A Choice of Evils (23 page)

We arrived to find ourselves now watching a cabaret act of dancing girls. Their flimsy Knickers and tops glittered with sequins which sparkled under the stage lights. They raised their legs to a painful height leaving little to the imagination. I winced when they did the splits, as Louise looked on humorously, and I sipped my scotch waiting for our orders to arrive. She chose a fish haddock with garlic sauce while I stayed traditionally loyal to a 16oz fillet steak with salad.

It was a hilarious half hour when Naughty Norman the resident comedian came on stage. He performed some light hearted acts of visual pornography like having sex in a bath of real custard. This brought forward some inebriated challengers. The mystery prize was a packet of ribbed and coloured condoms of enormous sizes that made the females giggle. Next, the audience were invited to throw rotten eggs at Norman if they thought his jokes were corny. A waitress walked around with a basket of them and there was no shortage of takers. It was all good fun as his acts became more daring as the night wore on. Now that our meals were finished we continued to finish off the wine and emerge onto the dance floor where the sensual mood of Louise’s body made it clear she enjoyed being held closely by her pleading lips. It was a great evening of fun and eventually we left for home sharing a mischievous mood between us.

That night, she teased me and I teased her. I did this and she did that. Imagination took over where reality could go no further. We heaved and humped, kissed and explored until all our bells rang for each other. Only our exhaustions prevented us hearing the carriage clock chime for 3.am. The warmth of our two perspiring bodies made a comfortable nest to fall asleep in. We may have shared the same dreams as the remaining hours passed into a new day.

The next morning was interrupted by mouse who I put back to sleep with a thump on the alarm button. It was Sunday. I stared at Louise not wanting to wake her up just yet. She looked so beautiful and peaceful exposing her smooth firm breasts. I crept out to the bathroom to refresh my swollen member containing the memories of hours gone by and then returned to our nest. Some three hours later I awoke to a stroking of my hair and looked into her delightful green eyes. Sometimes it’s inevitable that things happen again and again as it did then finally we shared the shower together.

For the remainder of Sunday, we spent it cosseted together until evening then went out for an Italian meal in Blackheath village nearby. Then as the meal and day came towards its end, we made the usual promises as I drove her back to the Elephant & Castle tube station with her flowers. ‘Don’t leave it to long this time,’ she told me. I assured her I wouldn’t with a long lingering kiss. It occurred to me then that I didn’t know where Louise lived!

When I returned home, I went straight to bed. I could smell the fragrance of Louise and a hint of L’air du Temp perfume on the pillows. It melted into my dreams as I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

It was a bright Monday morning when I awoke the next day. I wasn’t angry with mouse for waking me up this time. I let his laughter fill the house as I left my bed for the bathroom. Today was going to be a big contrast to yesterday’s peace of mind. My forthcoming meeting with Pandres at the bus stop surfaced in my mind. I was expecting a call from Marion about the bullet proof vest and briefcase, so I would need to wait indoors when returning from the paper shop. After my shower, I made my way there and back and decided to type some more of my novel. I wanted to finish chapter eleven.

The hours rolled by into late afternoon. At 5 o’clock the phone rang. It was Marion speaking. ‘Meet me at Burgher King, Surrey Quays for 8.pm.’ was all she said. There was no avoiding that. This was it. The meeting with Pandres and his accomplices was getting nearer. It was almost surreal that I was playing a part in this subversive plot. More so, that I was going to meet the very people who were planning to murder me. Equally horrific, was their plan to perpetuate genocide on the British people. It came home to me how very volatile the fabric of civilisation was, and then I remembered the words of Commander Bennit, ‘We all have a part to play in this operation.’ Somehow the world being a stage came to mind. Weren’t we all actors playing a part in the story of life? I told myself. This was one of the parts I had to play.

Three hours later saw me complete chapter eleven. Now I was ready for my walk to Surrey Quays shopping centre. It was already dark as I left home. An end of March wind whistled about my ears as I leisurely made my way there. It was raining too and I had not brought my umbrella.

Marion was sitting at table in Burgher King when I arrived. Two cups of coffee were already there upon it and a black bag was held tightly in her hands. ‘The briefcase and vest are inside it,’ she told me. I should slip into the public toilet and put it on, she suggested. Did I have any questions to ask her? No. It was all perfectly clear what I had to do, I answered. ‘Good. I shall be on the bus too. Your black taxi is waiting for you outside at the entrance,’ she replied and continued, ‘Your timing must be precise. You will arrive at the bus stop at 5 minutes to 9.pm. Good Luck.’ She left me without any further words. I followed shortly after putting on the bullet proof vest and located the taxi outside.

Again it was two chins waiting with a grin on his face as I got inside the cab and he drove away. At ten minutes to nine he delivered me to a corner nearby the Florence Nightingale pub. The first thing I noticed was a red single decker bus parked nearby. I muttered my thanks to two chins and made my way to the bus stop as arranged.

At 5 to 9pm I arrived there to be fourth in the queue holding the black briefcase firmly with my hand. I surveyed the two men and a woman in front of me as I blew my nose. It looked quite a normal scene. Behind me in 5
^th
and 6
^th
place were two men in overalls. Then in 7
^th
, 8
^th
and 9
^th
place was Pandres and the three others seen in the Tesco store when I met Pandres there. Also behind them were some city dressed types and a female or two. I avoided those and made quick eye contact with Pandres. He returned me a short expressionless nod then I turned away to look at the passing traffic.

I felt a cold feeling of fear go through me. It all seemed so unreal. Here I was trying to appear oblivious that these cold bloody fanatics were planning to murder me yet all around me were government executioners anticipating their demise. Who will miss them? I wondered then asked myself the same question. It was dam scary thinking about it as my right hand fumbled with my bullet proof vest. I knew it was a gesture of reassurance then at two minutes past nine the 159 bus arrived. I had seen it drive slowly around the corner. In turn we all boarded as I paid scant attention to the other eight passengers already seated inside. The designated double seat I was to sit in was vacant at the front of the bus as I casually made for it to sit by the window. Pandres came to sit beside me as all the other passengers sat down. For a moment neither of us said a word then a familiar sound broke the silence.

‘Fares please! Anymore fares please?’ the bus conductor called to the passengers in turn. I could hear his ticket machine clicking away from behind me until he arrived at my seat. Pandres looked to me for the fare. ‘Two to Lambeth Bridge,’ I told him. He was a big man who gave no clues of his purpose or identity. After he was gone, I opened the black briefcase to reveal the red bound file. Pandres eyes focussed upon it. ‘Let me see the money?’ I asked.

‘Very well, as you wish,’ he answered calmly. The holdall was passed to me. ‘I need to check it while you inspect the formula,’ I told him. A reticent smile passed over his face as his eyes began to scan through the pages of it and nodded as the bus drove on.

With my hands inside the holdall I made great play at counting the money as the bus came to its first stop. My ears heard the exchange of passengers and snatches of polite conversations. It all seemed quite normal. Two minutes later the bus pulled away again as I continued to count the money and Pandres continued to turn the pages. I knew that every eye in that bus was secretly and carefully watching both of us and the other three terrorists.

I was now aware of the approaching second stop. ‘I’m nearly finished,’ I told him. ‘I understand,’ he replied briskly. We exchanged glances and just for a fleeting second I thought I saw a burning hatred in his eyes. I masked my observation by appearing intent on counting the remaining money. The bastard, I thought, he’s on a countdown to killing me. He’s sitting there calculating it. I wanted to smash my fist right into his face. Control yourself, I thought. There’s no room for mistakes and thirty pairs of eyes are upon you!

Somebody rang the bell for the second stop and the bus came to a halt. Then I heard the movements of passengers alighting and boarding and finally the sound of the conductor’s bell signalled the driver to pull away. Pandres looked enquiringly at me the question was on his lips. ‘The money is correct,’ I told him so I shall be getting off at the next stop. Let me go first.’ He nodded in agreement.

Through the window, I stared at the passing traffic. As the bus drove a few hundred yards onwards, I heard the distinct signal of a passenger coughing. It was time to leave my seat. My hands tightly gripped the holdall. This is it, I told myself. I nodded to Pandres and stepped away from the seat moving casually down the centre of the bus towards the exit. The bus was slowing down as we approached the third stop near the roundabout by Lambeth Bridge. I reached the exit platform and faced all the passengers as I had been asked to do. Then the conductor rang the bell three times.

All hell was let loose as bodies sprang from their seats. An arsenal of guns pointed menacingly at the terrorists as a blond haired female shouted ‘FREEZE! Don’t move!’ Her outstretched hand held a gun as looks of startled surprise screamed from the terrorist’s faces and an atmosphere of raw tension gripped the air. Frantic movements from two of the terrorists were stopped short as bullets blew holes in their chests while a female screamed out loudly, ‘Allah Akbar!’ then the terror in her eyes disappeared as two cracks of a pistol sent her reeling back onto her seat. Pandres looked frozen with his hands up high in surrender looking into the barrel of an Uzi machine pistol. His face was starched pale as sheer terror lit up his eyes with shock and surprise. It was all over and done within a minute. The agents on the bus chatted amongst themselves as an air of calmness returned.

‘Carry on driver,’ shouted the conductor as he rang the bell. Two large men slowly edged closer to Pandres to handcuff his hands behind his back. His eyes flashed over at the slumped bodies lying across their seats then darted towards me with a blank comprehension. Our eyes met as I returned his stare and the bus pulled away. Blood was splattered everywhere. A blob of bloodied membrane slid slowly down a window nearby where the bodies lay. It was a horrific sight.

The bus turned left at the roundabout and drove up to the fortress like Lambeth dispersal and holding centre. I stood on the exit platform as the knuckles of my hand showed white on the handle of the holdall. Pandres was now sandwiched between two burly MI5 agents. I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind? Just then the blond haired female who shouted out the order to ‘Freeze’ came to stand beside me. She pulled of a wig. It was Marion! A faint smile passed over her face. My god, she looked so ordinary and almost angelic. Who would ever believe she was one of them, I thought.

A pair of huge iron doors opened as the driver honked his horn and the bus drove slowly up a ramp and along a concrete corridor to the holding entrance. It was an oppressive looking place as I remembered passing through it myself in a prison bus. It was like an underground concrete fortress and very claustrophobic like a carefully constructed maze designed to provide confusion to any aspiring escapees.

The bus came to a halt at the entrance to the internal building. Marion led me from it and ushered me inside. My mind didn’t register surprise when I saw the faces of Commander Bennit, Inspector Marsh and Sergeant Morton waiting at the entrance.

‘Welcome home Jack,’ said Inspector Marsh. ‘We are sorry you had to witness this messy conclusion but we had to deal with the situation as the facts took place.’ I stood looking at them unsure what I wanted to say. My feelings were to say the least somewhat traumatised. After all, it’s not every day that you see holes blown in peoples bodies even if they were terrorists. I remained silent.

‘You’ll forget about it all in time,’ said Commander Bennit. ‘There are some preliminary statements to be made, so if we can get those done now I’m sure you’d like to get home and have a drink?’

Yes, I needed a drink, I thought. A bloody great large one would do! Their casual response to the killings just reinforced the previous opinions I held of them. But then, what the hell did I expect them to behave like? And how would I have felt if the terrorists were able to carry out their plans and potentially kill half of the UK people? Was I looking for justification? What will happen to Pandres? I heard myself asking.

Four faces stared back at me as the Commander answered. ‘He will be charged under the terrorism act and brought to trial. You will be required to give evidence. The other three deceased will be sent back to Iran after we have deactivated their explosives.’

‘Explosives! What explosives?’ I asked.

He continued. ‘The woman was their suicide bomber. She had a Semtex made bomb strapped around her waist. All these religious nuts are prepared to sacrifice themselves for a belief in the hereafter. They always call upon Allah before detonation. It’s a standard practice for them to take as many infidels like us with them if they have to do it. Make no mistake; a few seconds delay in removing them on the bus then you and our colleagues would not be here to tell the story. These people are religious fanatics who believe their suicide missions are inspired by Allah and there is only one way to stop their intentions and that is to take them down first.’