The Phoenix Series Books 10-12 (The Phoenix Series Box Set)

by Ted Tayler

  Hope giggled as he left the room.

  No, thought Phoenix, it had to be Giles and another funny face. No way could she be finding my discomfort a laughing matter at her age.

  Phoenix began the long walk along the corridors, down the elegant staircase to the ground floor and then outside to battle his way against the freshening winds. No chance of a repeat of a foggy night tonight.

  He reminisced about the days following Boxing Day. Across the country, few families ever complained when Christmas Day fell on a Thursday. It meant a free weekend tacked onto the seasonal celebrations. The gap to New Year that followed was so brief that many had kept holiday entitlements in reserve to avoid returning to work until today.

  Phoenix made his way along the path past the orangery and headed towards the stable block. He recalled reading reports supplied by Minos and Alastor on events around the country. The only people hard at work were the emergency services and the criminal fraternity.

  When New Year’s Eve had arrived, there was the usual anticipation of a fresh start. As if the time between eleven fifty-nine and midnight was more significant on the final day of the year than any other. Phoenix had suffered over forty-five disappointments in his lifetime. It was just another day; until last year when Athena went into labour earlier than predicted.

  Phoenix had heard Hope’s first cry when the crowds in London counted from ten towards midnight. He first set eyes on Athena with their daughter in her arms as the chimes of Big Ben boomed out across the Thames, and the firework display began.

  Hope was unaware of last Wednesday night’s importance. As soon as she was born, Athena had told him she wanted to celebrate the birth of their daughter at the same time. First thing Wednesday morning was wrong; as was first thing New Year’s Day. Phoenix had been so keen to get to sleep after a week of night feeds he agreed without protest.

  So, Maria Elena and Athena contrived to tinker with Hope’s routine to have her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in her party dress at eleven-thirty at night. Hope attacked the wrapping paper on her presents with gusto. She devoured her jelly and ice-cream. Maria Elena carried the birthday cake and its one candle through from the kitchen and set it on the table in front of the birthday girl.

  Rusty, Artemis, Henry, Sarah and Giles had joined the proud parents to celebrate both a birthday and another fresh start. Geoffrey Fox elected not to come. He was suffering from a heavy cold — one which he blamed on the Boxing Day walk along the promenade. Hope stopped looking at her presents when she heard her mother sing.

  Everyone joined in with her singing, ‘Happy Birthday’ and Maria Elena lit the candle. When they stopped, Hope clapped and then she paused. All eyes turned towards her wondering what she would do next.

  Her nose twitched, and a tremendous sneeze extinguished the burning candle.

  “I think someone has caught Grandad’s cold, don’t you?” said Athena, as everyone collapsed in fits of laughter.

  While Maria Elena cut the cake, Phoenix wiped Hope’s nose and dabbed at her party dress. Athena switched on the television, and the scenes from the Thames embankment and Trafalgar Square echoed the events of twelve months earlier. As Hope dug into her slice of cake, the others raised a glass to 2015.

  The following four days had seen little activity in the UK, but at Larcombe Manor, there had been sleepless nights for Phoenix and Athena. Hope’s cold saw to that. She was on the mend now, thank goodness, Phoenix thought, as he reached the entrance to the ice-house.

  He descended to Level Three. Henry Case was in Interrogation Room Two; Phoenix entered the observation room next door. Athena sat in a chair, alone, her hands steepled under her chin as she rested on the window ledge. Their prisoner looked to be mid-twenties, possibly from a Mediterranean or South American origin.

  “You got up at last, then?” Athena asked.

  “It was a tiring journey after a long day,” Phoenix replied, taking a seat beside her, “who have we got here and what has he told Henry so far?”

  “This is Miguel Fernando, twenty-five, currently living in London. He moved south from Sheffield.”

  “Have we learned anything important?”

  Athena sat back in her chair.

  “Henry has only just started, Phoenix, don’t be so impatient. After our security patrol discovered him, they brought him below and left him in darkness for two hours. Henry treated him to occasional periods of your favourite music at excruciatingly high volume for an hour. Now, he’s peeling back each layer of the onion. They need me in the administration offices. If you wish to stay here to watch, you can. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

  With that, Athena stood and headed for the door.

  “I’m sorry,” said Phoenix.

  “I know you are,” said Athena. She stepped away from the door and planted a kiss on her husband’s forehead, “these first few days of 2015 have left us on edge. Something momentous is looming on the horizon, and I don’t know whether Olympus can counter it.”

  “We must take each day as it comes, Athena. Our cause is. Our intentions are pure. Whatever the Grid throws at us, we must respond to in equal measure for as long as we are able. If the terror threat grows, then that too will need us to oppose it with as much vigour as we can muster.”

  The door closed behind his wife, and in the next room, Henry Case continued to interrogate Miguel Fernando.

  Phoenix wondered whether this young man was to be another resident in the pet cemetery.

  CHAPTER 2

  Tuesday, 6th January 2015

  After the false start yesterday, things got back to normal for the Larcombe Manor senior staff today. Athena chaired the morning meeting, and everyone arrived by nine o’clock. The main items on the agenda were Miguel Fernando, the Olympus meeting in Birmingham tomorrow and Phoenix’s report on his fact-finding mission.

  “Can you bring us up to speed on your progress with our guest, Henry?” asked Athena.

  “Fernando wasn’t the hardest nut I’ve had to crack,” replied Henry. “Giles found his juvenile records in South Yorkshire with ease; a frequent truant from the various schools he attended before they excluded him. When he wasn’t in class, he often appeared in court on burglary charges. When he left home and moved to London, they held a street party.”

  “A typical teenager, based on the latest news reports,” said Alastor, with a wry grin.

  “Fernando found employment soon enough,” Henry continued, “he preferred two wheels to four to get around the city. He worked for Domino’s pizzas for a while, did courier work and flirted with the first moped gangs. Before long he reverted to type. He’s been helping dismantle stolen, used cars for parts. The gang Miguel works for creates bogus hire companies and then loans prestige cars. The parts are exported in container loads heading for Africa and the Far East. I convinced him he should tell me about this organisation. Perhaps we could visit them?”

  “Give me everything you have, Henry,” said Rusty, “I’ll put together a proposal for direct action.”

  “This is minor stuff, Henry,” said Phoenix, “okay, this gang has to belong to the Grid. There are no independent operators since their last cull, but why did Fernando carry out surveillance on Olympus? Surely, they didn’t plan to steal our vehicles?”

  “That’s unlikely,” said Henry, “but this young man has had his eyes on you for a while.”

  Phoenix sat up, straighter in his chair at that piece of information.

  “He photographed you in October when you were in St John’s Wood. You were outside the police station. You dropped off the rider and pillion passenger of the gang that attacked those Japanese tourists.”

  “I get it now,” said Rusty. “Tyrone O’Riordan put the word out, looking to identify the people disrupting Grid affairs across the country.”

  “That’s it,” Henry continued. “There was a reward for information offered by the Grid’s leaders that spread like wildfire around the boroughs. Young Fernando moonlighted with a spot of courier work that
evening. He spotted you on the M25, tailed you to the station on his moped, and then lost track of you. He got his reward, but once he had his hooks in him, Tyrone O’Riordan wanted much more than the photographs. Fernando came here to replace Simon Gonzalez. He’s been snapping away taking shots of people and vehicle movements since the middle of November.”

  “We should be thankful his time with us coincided with so many non-Olympus related matters,” said Minos. “Apart from weddings and the holiday season, there won’t have been anything critical to our operations.”

  “If you discount the contribution those photos make in establishing our strength in personnel and transportation, then I would agree,” said Athena. “Any scrap of knowledge that falls into the hands of our enemies is one scrap too much.”

  “Fair comment,” said Minos.

  “How often did Fernando report back to O’Riordan,” asked Phoenix.

  “Every twenty-four hours,” said Henry.

  “So, Tyrone will know the surveillance was compromised,” said Rusty.

  “I bought us time,” said Henry, “O’Riordan doesn’t sit by the phone waiting for Fernando to call. He picks up his messages at the Glencairn Bank at lunchtimes when he arrives for work on a weekday. At weekends he has been known to answer, but he’s often not in his penthouse apartment. He enjoys the social whirl of the nightclubs and casinos.”

  “Did Fernando agree to send a message to his boss?” asked Athena.

  “After a little persuasion,” said Henry. “I required him to say, ‘It’s quiet here’, and he managed it perfectly. The loss of a little finger has little or no effect on the vocal chords.”

  “Well, it has been quiet here, as Minos suggested,” said Artemis.

  “I thought it an appropriate comment, given the circumstance,” said Henry.

  Phoenix looked up from the tabletop where he had been gazing. He now knew the answer to his question from yesterday. Miguel Fernando lay in the pet cemetery. Hidden deep in the woods at the bottom of the gardens, it was a quiet spot.

  “I take it, we can move on, Henry?” asked Athena.

  “We shall have no further problem from Fernando,” said Henry, “as for the Grid who knows what their response will be? The extra security patrols and technical initiatives will stay in place until they reduce the threat level.”

  “Or it’s eliminated,” said Rusty.

  “Minos will be in the chair tomorrow morning,” said Athena. “Phoenix and I are attending the Olympus meeting in Birmingham.”

  “A different venue?” asked Alastor.

  “Zeus wished to reduce the distances Gods travel,” said Athena. “He selected a suitable place near the heart of the country.”

  “Zeus had no idea Heracles and Aphrodite might be absent for different reasons,” said Phoenix.

  The room fell silent for a moment. There would be no forgiveness for Heracles and his betrayal. Aphrodite though was a firm favourite. She may have been a member of the aristocracy, but she was a warm-hearted, generous person, both of her time and her enormous wealth.

  “Do you have the agenda for tomorrow?” asked Henry Case.

  “We make the final decision on appointing two new members,” said Athena. “I shall tell Zeus that we eliminated two spies working on behalf of the Grid. Other items to be addressed concern the Irregulars. How many can we get into the field? Where should they target?”

  “Which brings us to my contribution for today,” said Phoenix, shaking himself awake.

  Rusty allowed himself a grin. He hadn’t seen much of his best friend over the holiday season, but he knew Phoenix hated sitting and waiting. He was a man of action. Meetings were a chore to be endured, not enjoyed.

  “On Sunday afternoon, I drove to Northamptonshire,” said Phoenix, “on a fact-finding mission.”

  “Was this trip driven by any perceived threat from the Grid to target Olympus?” asked Alastor.

  “No,” said Athena, “we stuck a pin in a map covered with a sheet of greaseproof paper. If we asked a member of the public whether they believed crime levels were rising or falling in their locality, many would say it was rising. As for the national picture, they would say it’s definitely on the increase.”

  “My first contact was with a shop owner on a retail park outside Northampton,” said Phoenix. “He had been in business in the town for twenty years. In the past three months, a woman held at gunpoint in a jewellery shop in the town centre. A female drug addict threatened to throw acid at a young assistant if he didn’t hand over cash. He knew of numerous cases of anti-social behaviour on the estate where he lived.”

  “Anecdotal evidence flies in the face of the official statistics,” said Athena. “According to the Office of National Statistics, crime has been in a steady decline for two decades.”

  “It was a pure chance the pin found this rural county,” Phoenix continued. “The county’s official drop of one fifth is the sharpest fall across the country. We thought it worthwhile to see if we could understand why the perception and the statistics differed so much.”

  “This is something Alastor, and I have analysed,” said Minos. “In part, it’s related to the way crimes feature in the media. After the recession hit hard, there were cuts in public spending, unemployment rose, and incomes squeezed. The natural response might have been for crime figures to rise, but they didn’t. The number of recorded offences fell.”

  “In rural counties such as Northamptonshire, criminals target the border areas because they assume they will not have as much of a police presence as large towns and cities,” said Giles Burke. “In the ice-house, we can see that police teams in the affected counties have gained access to automatic number plate recognition. The ANPR cameras allow them to spot known criminals as they drive into their patch. These roaming organised crime gangs have thrived in recent years.”

  “Northampton, Kettering, and Wellingborough have issues with gangs,” said Phoenix, “it didn’t take long to spot them. The expensive cars and the bling mark them. Locals didn’t want to describe the make-up of the gangs in any specifics. Still, it’s easy to hear whispers of sexual exploitation, drug dealers setting up in homes of vulnerable people, guns and ammunition, machetes and swords. Extreme violence is only a street away from anywhere you wish to visit.”

  “Did your fact-finding trip encourage you to mount a direct action against any outfit in particular?” asked Henry Case.

  “The intimidation suffered by students at the university spiked my interest,” replied Phoenix. “Gang members dealing drugs have ramped-up their efforts to target the twelve thousand students on the two campus sites. I suggest we get Hugh Fraser to identify Irregulars capable of mingling with the students and highlighting these vermin. Then, Rusty and I can lead a team to remove the problem.”

  “Isn’t there a danger the Grid will merely replace these drug dealers with people from another nearby county,” asked Alastor, “if these roaming gangs are everywhere?”

  “Doing nothing is not an option,” said Athena. “We must keep delivering a blow to the Grid’s operations wherever and whenever we can. We know it’s likely to force them to make reciprocal strikes against Olympus, but we’ve increased our security levels, and every agent knows it’s vital to be on the alert.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” said Minos, “but what we hope for is a sea-change in the government’s strategy on crime. If the police and the judiciary swung into action to take our place, they could decimate the numbers of criminals on our streets. At present, that help is light-years away.”

  “Certainly, it won’t happen in our lifetime,” said Rusty. “I look forward to visiting Northampton and its environs, Phoenix. Is there a priority attached to this proposed mission as yet?”

  Phoenix shook his head.

  “We may sort out Miguel Fernando’s car gang first. Athena and I will let Zeus and the others attribute priority tomorrow.”

  “Thanks to Minos and Alastor’s background checks, we have the informat
ion to figure which two people to recommend to Zeus and the others tomorrow,” said Athena. “Byron Paterson, the forty-year-old Californian has the skills and the financial clout to help Olympus, and there were no red flags to discount him. However, he’s not enough of a people person to match the new dynamic in the Olympus hierarchy. Raymond Ferreira, the thirty-two-year-old Irishman, passed every check, and his charity work with disaster emergency makes him stand out.”

  “He offers far less in financial terms than Patterson,” said Artemis.

  “True,” said Athena, “but we believe his empathy will resonate with more of the other senior Olympians. Patterson’s abrasive American approach might have been too strident.”

  “Another Donald Trump, you mean?” said Rusty.

  “At least Trump’s never shown much inclination to go into politics,” laughed Minos.

  Athena wanted to keep things moving.

  “Lily Chan, our lone female candidate, is a thirty-six-year-old married mother of two. Everything checked out in her past, and we desperately need another female at the top table. Two great assets and those two will become our new Olympians, Chronos and Hebe. Is there anything anyone has to contribute this morning?”

  “We noted two statements from government sources in recent days,” said Minos. “It’s clear the panic in the ranks after the no-confidence motion inspired them. One spokesperson wanted the public to know tackling terrorism was a national priority. That provoked an announcement that extra resources would be in place following the Charlie Hebdo attack in Paris. Another leaked document reported that they thwarted three terror plots in the recent past.”

  “More, if you include those that Olympus had a hand in,” said Rusty.

  “You’re on good form today,” said Phoenix, “married life suits you.”

  “It suits us both,” said Artemis.

  “Especially, when you get unexpected free time?” asked Phoenix, raising an eyebrow.