Staying Alive Page 3

  ‘Perhaps it was just to bury information, sir.’

  ‘Now that’s much more likely. This will be a tough one, Jake, and if you’re right, dangerous.’

  I knew with that statement that I had a goer.

  ‘There is, as far as we know, no evidence as to who killed Phillips. The trail is now cold but that has the advantage that nobody would expect an enquiry.’ He was thinking. He often just stared at whomever he was speaking to when he was thinking but he didn’t really see them. His vision was turned inwards. I had the impression that he was seeing things inside his head like an internal video. His eyes looked upwards and sometimes moved to the right and sometimes to the left as if he was looking at something in his memory files and using that information to construct an action plan or build a way forward.

  ‘It’s not clear yet how to proceed on this but my view is you’ll have to go back to the very beginning and build the picture from scratch.’

  ‘When you say the beginning, sir, where do you think the beginning is?’

  ‘Good question, Jake; let’s see what we can uncover from the police enquiry but you’re going to have to gather evidence and bring it from obscurity into the bright light of day. What’s your view?’

  ‘I think I’ll have to go into the prison and find out who did the killing. Then find out who in the prison or from outside of the prison gave that order and then work back up the chain. We know, or rather I believe, Mabry didn’t order the killing so the more we can eliminate the clearer those in the frame will become.’

  ‘That means you’ll need to be undercover in the same prison and same cell block Phillips was in.’ He again went into his internal viewing mode. ‘I think our friend Barrow can throw some light on what we need to do to get you incarcerated.’

  ‘Incarcerated’ – what a lovely word. However, it was the ‘getting free again’ that was my only concern.

  4

  Two days later, I was in Thames House waiting outside the office of Barrow Jones, my ex MI5 special section boss. He was now very senior and in common with all very senior people you have to wait to see them. It demonstrated their importance if you had to wait. It wasn’t like this in his old section. Barrow never gave a stuff about status, but from what I could observe here, his underlings did. Their status was dependent on his status so they were trying to make Barrow look important; therefore, a mere mortal or member of a sub species, such as me, had to wait. Just as I was running all this through my mind, Barrow came to the door of his office.

  ‘Have you been waiting long, Jake?’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘I do apologise. I spend more time waiting to see people who are waiting to see me than actually seeing them. The inefficiency is throttling me. Come in, come in! It’s great to see a member of the old team.’

  I find that all great leaders have this simple way with words – the old team, not my old team. And he was a great leader, always able to make things happen so that you could achieve. He had this way of giving you the information you needed while treating you with consideration and supporting your decisions, enabling you to take responsibility for what you achieved. That was the main thing about him. I always felt it was what I wanted to do not what he wanted me to do; although I knew he was the person directing my efforts.

  We shook hands and I followed him into his office. We settled into a right-angled corner settee with a round table set within the confines of the seating area. Then a stiff woman came in and asked, ‘Would you like coffee, sir?’

  ‘Hot, black and sweet for Jake please and my usual, Ms Sweet, and when Jake comes again can you get him in here as soon as possible. He’s a very important person; his time is extremely valuable.’

  She looked at me, and clearly didn’t think I could possibly be important, then back at Barrow. ‘Certainly, Sir Barrow,’ she answered and left.

  ‘Sir Barrow? What on earth is this about?’

  ‘The silly buggers knighted me, Jake.’

  ‘When?’ I hadn’t heard.

  ‘Must be a whole month now. I toyed with the idea of saying no but it was made clear to me that saying no wasn’t acceptable.’

  ‘Can I ask why you were knighted?’

  ‘That’s an extremely good question but I’ve absolutely no idea what the answer might be. It says services to the security of the United Kingdom, but in reality they get a certain number each year and somebody decides who to give them to. I think this year they gave them to people with odd forenames.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘You’ve done more for the security of this country than I ever have. I’ve never risked being killed; you have.’

  ‘No, Barrow, I just don’t have an odd first name.’

  He started to laugh as Ms Sweet came in with the coffee and from the look on her frosty face, laughing was an infringement of protocol.

  ‘Shall I pour, Sir Barrow?’

  ‘No, I think not, Ms Sweet. Jake here has a range of very technical skills including the ability to pour coffee and to kill people, so I think it would be much safer for all of us to let him pour.’

  Her eyes widened and she backed rapidly out of the room as if I was about to strike her dead and as soon as she’d gone, we were both laughing.

  ‘I don’t think I can put up with this much longer. I’m going to have to reorganise this lot and staff it with human beings and I want a replacement for the old team.’

  I knew he was weighing up whether I might re-join him. I felt honoured that he might consider me. I suppose that’s the measure of his leadership.

  ‘I know why you’re here, Jake. Nicolas told me. I can get you into the prison. In fact, I’ve already taken steps to position an experienced operative in the cellblock. He’s actually served time for real. By the time you’re trained he’ll be established. I’ll arrange for him to guide you but, and this is important, Jake, you’ve to be trained first and I’ll send you to the States to be trained. Secondly, you’ll have to be a member of MI5 Special Unit.’

  ‘MI5 Special Unit?’

  ‘Just a relabelling of what we had before but it now has a separate undisclosed budget.’

  ‘Will it give you any problems to reinstall me?’

  ‘I talked with the personnel people or HR or business partners or whatever they call themselves these days and that’s fixed. Is that okay, Jake?’

  ‘I’m happy if Sir Nicolas is happy.’

  ‘He said as long as you come back to him after this job’s done. A key issue will be your cover.’

  ‘Yes, well, I think I could go in as me. That means they’ll soon find out that I’m an ex-military copper. So I’ll be as popular as a pork chop in a synagogue. It also means I can’t possibly be undercover and it’ll also give rise to the information that I put Jase away and confusion will reign.’

  ‘Jake, that’s a very high-risk strategy. Somebody might just kill you for being a copper.’

  ‘Very true but if a false identity’s uncovered then I’ll definitely be killed.’

  ‘True and there’ll be ex-soldiers and probably Family links in there. What will be your crime?’

  ‘Murder.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the States. I reckon that if you can get me transferred from a nice notorious prison in say Oklahoma it may create an impression.’

  ‘So you’re an ex-military policeman, imprisoned in, I suggest Mississippi State Penitentiary, for murder of, let us say, an FBI Special Agent.’

  ‘Why Mississippi?’

  ‘Yes, well, I know somebody. Hold on a minute.’ Barrow went to his computer and banged a few keys. ‘Right. The prison’s Parchman Farm. It’s the only maximum-security prison in Mississippi and one of the roughest toughest in the States. Well, that’s a reputation I’m sure it doesn’t deserve.’ He came back and sat down again. He thought for a few moments. ‘An appeal court hears your appeal and you’re given leave to be transferred to the UK. I’ll get that fixed with Sir Nicolas.’

  ‘What about the court c
ase?’

  ‘No problem there; I’ll talk to somebody from the embassy. Let me see, the Home Office decides where you go. I’ll get Mabry onto getting you sent to Peasmarsh. He wants this job done. You were sentenced to fifteen to twenty-five years in the States on a plea bargain and here it’s life. Okay, Jake?’

  ‘Sounds good to me, Barrow.’ I knew it would go as smooth as silk. It’s the network scratching each other’s backs and Barrow must have been owed more favours than the rest of them put together.

  ‘One small thing that I know will be all right, you’ll have to go through a psychological assessment.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll fix that. Assuming everything goes as I expect, you can do something for me while you’re in there. Peasmarsh is new. It’s a high security prison run on experimental lines that have resurrected some historical ideas. I want your views of it as an incarceration centre for spies and terrorists. I think it would be useful to have an inmate’s view.’

  ‘Do I get a consultancy fee for that?’

  ‘I see the private sector has already warped your view of the world. Let me see, the consultancy fee will just pay for your fares, accommodation and training in the States.’

  ‘Touché!’ We did a high five just as Barrow’s administrator walk in. Consequently, we had a deal and a very shocked administrator. I wonder if they think people turn into something else when they become very senior or get knighted.

  5

  I left Thames House and walked over Lambeth Bridge, along Millbank into Whitehall and on to the Strand. By the time I arrived there I had my head in order. I would go back into MI5 and sort the Jase thing out. I just knew I was heading for another fine mess. As I walked in, the beautiful Samantha was her normal smiling self.

  ‘Hi, Sam, you glorious vision of womanhood.’

  ‘It’s Samantha and Sir Nicolas isn’t here.’

  ‘Yes, I thought I’d talk to you about that.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About coming to lunch with me.’

  ‘I see. Well, it can’t be today because I’m going to a conference this afternoon.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Some place called Frimley Hall.’

  ‘In Surrey.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know it. If we leave here now we’ll be there in time to get lunch in the best Italian restaurant in Surrey and it’s just down the road from Frimley Hall Hotel.’

  ‘Ha ha, you will have your little jokes.’

  ‘No, I’m serious. I’ll drive you down there, buy you the bestest lunch you’ve had in years and deliver you to your hotel. I’ll even come and collect you after you’ve been conferenced or whatever they’re going to do to you.’

  ‘And what do you expect in exchange for your largesse?’

  ‘O cynical woman! I offer you the delight of a lifetime and you believe I’ve some ulterior motive.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t have an ulterior motive I’ll not bother to come to lunch with you.’

  ‘I see, well, I’ll have to think of one.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll just grab my bag.’

  The trip was on. We nipped back to my flat and collected my car from the basement garage. We were quickly on the A4 heading west towards the M4, then we crossed the M25 link to the M3 and headed southwest.

  ‘What CDs have you got?’ she said as she flicked through the CD controller. ‘Oh you’ve got Dean Martin, Sammy Davis and Frank Sinatra.’

  ‘Yes, I got them from my Gran.’ She punched me on the arm.

  ‘No you didn’t.’

  ‘I did, honest.’ She pressed the button and she started singing, Come Fly With Me, and she could sing so I joined in. We worked through about five songs before she found the Beatles and we had a go at those. She did stop me weaving the car in time to the music.

  We sang and laughed all the way to junction 3 and into downtown Bagshot, where the all-night café shuts at six o’clock. It was only one o’clock so Bel Vedere was still open for lunch and we parked round the back. Mario, the owner, was still there. He clearly didn’t remember me but I wasn’t surprised. He gave us a table in the front corner that looked out onto the High Street. Sam looked fantastic. She always looked fantastic, but today, she looked especially fantastic.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she asked.

  ‘You.’

  ‘Is there something wrong? Have I got lipstick on my teeth?’

  ‘I don’t know. Let me see.’

  ‘Stop pissing about.’

  ‘No, you’ve a little black smudge on your nose. Hold on.’ I took out my handkerchief, made a big deal of unfolding it and shaking it out, got up, walked round the table, put my hand under her chin, lifted and turned her head and kissed her on the lips.

  ‘You bugger,’ she said. ‘Do it again.’ So I did and she responded. Nobody in the restaurant seemed to mind.

  ‘What would you like?’ I asked, moving back to my seat.

  ‘For lunch?’ she asked with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Um, yes, for lunch.’

  Mario came back and told us the specials. As usual he told us the Italian names. As had always been the case, his specials were very special. After he had gone Sam looked at me and said, ‘I’m not sure what he said.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m going to have the Tagliatelle con funghi di staglione.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘I don’t know, it just sounds good.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, I’m going to have the third one he said.’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It was the chef.’

  ‘I’ll have the chef then.’

  ‘Not wise.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘His wife is behind the bar.’ Sam laughed.

  ‘Tell me what you like.’

  ‘Give me a clue.’

  ‘Lobster tail or asparagus with a cheese sauce. They’re the best two starters.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And the main course specials are grilled chicken breast, crispy pancetta, sun-dried cranberries and apricots, in Madeira sauce or veal scaloppine, asparagus and seasonal mushroom confit, white wine sauce flavoured with tarragon or duck with the usual stuff.’

  ‘The usual stuff?’

  ‘Yes, the usual stuff.’

  ‘You can’t remember.’

  ‘Right, it’s my age, you know.’ Sam was laughing.

  ‘Okay, I’ll have the lobster tail and the duck. What are you having?’

  ‘I’m having the tagliatelle, mushrooms, olive oil, fresh oregano, garlic and for the main course I’m having the sole, with, um, stuff. Now, you have to pick the wine.’

  ‘Good, are you rich?’

  ‘Yes, for you I am very rich.’

  ‘Okay, we will have a white wine, um, Gavi La Lancellotta.’

  ‘My word! I said I was rich but not that rich.’

  ‘Oh, I’m…’ She looked concerned. I laughed.

  ‘You bastard.’

  We’d been chatting all through the lunch when Sam said, ‘How on earth did you find this place?’

  ‘Sandhurst is just down the road.’ This clearly didn’t mean anything to her. ‘The military academy.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Suddenly she fell in. ‘Of course, you went there. I’d never really thought about it. Tell me about the army.’

  So I did. What surprised me was that she really wanted to know. We finished with sweets from the trolley. Sam had the torta di fragole and I had the tiramisu and as we had coffee Sam said, ‘A village like this would be a great place to live.’ So we talked about places to live. Time went on.

  ‘I’ll have to get you to your hotel.’

  She agreed. So I paid.

  As we left she said to Mario, ‘We’ll be back.’ I registered the ‘we’ll’ and that, I suppose, was the highlight of my day, the first inkling of an on-going relationship.

  ‘I thought you might,’ he said in his lovely Italia
n accent and kissed her on the cheek, the way Italians do. And I felt like a million dollars.

  We walked into the car park and I opened the passenger door and Sam got in. Mario was watching, he smiled and nodded to me. Clearly he approved.

  I drove Sam round to the hotel, took her bag in. This was an old building. Fear and loneliness engulfed me. It was like I was seven again on the first day at prep school where I knew my mother was going to leave me. I watched Sam go to reception as I had watched my mother all those years before. She talked and laughed with the woman behind the desk and I felt excluded, lonely, I wanted to run. ‘Bloody get a grip, Jake Robinson.’ Sam came back. She put her arms around me and we kissed goodbye. I couldn’t speak.

  Sam said, ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days then, Jake.’ We kissed again.

  ‘Okay my lovely, four o’clock on Friday.’ I think I sounded okay.

  Sam picked up her bag and headed for the stairs. She turned and waved and then started up them.

  I was already missing her. I got back to my car, put on the same CD and sang to it on my way home but it wasn’t the same without Sam.

  6

  On Friday, I went to collect Sam from her hotel at about four. She was in the lounge waiting.

  ‘I was thinking, perhaps you’d like to go to dinner tonight,’ she said to me as I approached.

  ‘Sounds good to me. Where?’

  ‘How about a little Italian place a friend showed me near here.’

  ‘Friday? You must be joking; we’d have to have booked this morning at the very latest.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘I see. Means one of us can’t drink if we’re to drive back to London tonight.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fixed; I’ve got a room here.’ The message was clear or I hoped it was.

  ‘What time’s dinner?’

  ‘I booked for eight.’

  ‘So what are we going to do now then?’ I’d something in mind but was unsure whether Sam had the same idea.

  ‘We could go and look at the room,’ she said.