A Woman Involved (11 page)

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Authors: John Gordon Davis

BOOK: A Woman Involved
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The Guam lay huge and grey, her decks stacked with aircraft. The helicopter came chopping down, down, the steel decks loomed up; then she touched down and applause broke out from the passengers. The doors opened and out they scrambled, and sailors hustled them across the deck. Morgan began to crouch towards the door, but the pilot twisted in his seat and beckoned to him. He handed him a headset and said over the intercom: ‘You’re the guy from Delta Force guarding Mrs Hapsburg?’

‘Right.’

‘Then hold tight.’

The helicopter roared, then it rose up rockily off the deck again. It wheeled and went chopping away. Morgan looked back at Anna. She tried to shout something to him, but he could only see her lips moving. He rasped to the pilot: ‘
Where the hell are we going?


To Trinidad. Don’t ask me why, buddy, I just do as I’m told in this game.


On whose orders?


The Admiral himself.

Anna came scrambling angrily across the fuselage. She grabbed Morgan’s shoulders and shouted: ‘
Where’re we going?


What’s her problem?
’ the pilot said.


She wants to know why the hell we’re going to Trinidad.


Tell her I ain’t much good at arguing with admirals. Commanders, sure, lieutenant-commanders, a piece of cake, but admirals? – forget it.

Anna shouted something furiously. Morgan took off the headset and grabbed her hand. He crouched down to the rear of the aircraft with her. He cupped his hands to her ear and shouted: ‘
Calm down! We’re going to Trinidad. I don’t know why but we have no goddam option! You’re subject to American martial law! When we get to Trinidad, leave it to me – don’t make a fuss until I’ve found out what’s happening! Right now I’m responsible for your safety. If you make ă fuss they’ll put somebody else onto looking after you!

He glared at her, then squeezed her hand hard and he scrambled back to the pilot. He rammed on the headset, and tried to think.

Trinidad …  Were they going to try to debrief her there? …  Who? Brink-Ford himself? … 

He looked back at Anna. She had her eyes closed, trying hard to control her fury and her nerves.

He put his hand in his pouch, and felt the gun. The gun with which she had killed the Russian, the gun he was supposed to drop in the sea.

The helicopter came chopping over the airport, towards the far corner. Down there a car was waiting. When the helicopter settled on the ground, two men got out of the car.

Morgan scrambled out of the helicopter and held out his hand for Anna. She came clambering out, hair flying. They hurried under the downblast towards the car. A third man was getting out, his hand clutching his hat. One man held open the back door for them. Before they reached it, the helicopter was taking off again. Morgan stopped at the car door. ‘
Who are you?
’ he shouted.

The man indicated the open door and pointed at the helicopter. Then the noise abated as it rose away. ‘Who are you?’ Morgan repeated.

‘Thompson, Security, British Consulate, and that’s Edwards. Get in please, sir.’

‘Identification, please. For all I know you’re KGB.’

The man pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. ‘This’ – he indicated the man with the hat – ‘is Mr Gillespie, the British consul.’

‘How do you do?’ the consul called. ‘Do let’s go.’

Anna held back angrily. ‘May I ask where?’

The consul said, ‘Can we discuss that en route?’

‘No, we cannot!’ She turned to Morgan. ‘Can I have a word?’

She walked away angrily. Morgan followed equally angrily. She turned to him: ‘
So it’s the bloody British who want me!

He gripped her arm and whispered:

‘Anna, at least we’re not on the aircraft carrier! You couldn’t have swum off! Now those two security guys aren’t stage props! We’ve got to go with them and figure it out from there!’ He seized her elbow and led her back to the car.

She got in, furiously. Morgan got in beside her, Thompson beside him.

The consul started the car. He said airily: ‘We’re going to my residence.’ He drove off across the grass. ‘I dare say you could use a hot bath and a decent meal?’

They drove out of the airport, through security gates without stopping, onto the highway. Anna seethed, her hand clammy in Morgan’s, her face averted. They drove through tropical island countryside. Then through seashore suburbs. The car swung into a gateway.

A Union Jack hung from a pole. The iron gates opened electronically. They drove through, and stopped outside the
front door. The garden was beautiful. The consul’s wife opened the door, beaming.

She bustled out, and took charge of Anna. The consul led Morgan straight into his study. He closed the door and faced him. He was a nice, bookish man.

‘Now we can speak. Thompson and Edwards are utterly reliable, of course, but we don’t know much about the cloak-and-dagger business here. Now, then, you’ll be perfectly safe, the house is well secured. And comfortable, I hope. Please make yourselves at home. You needn’t worry about being seen, because I was given strict instructions to give the servants the day off –’

‘How long are we here for?’

Mr Gillespie said busily, ‘An RAF plane is coming to fetch you. It arrives after midnight, for reasons of secrecy.’

‘To take us where?’

The consul lifted a white hand. ‘One of your people will be coming here shortly and he’ll answer –’

‘Who?’

‘One of your people. I’ve no idea where the plane’s coming from or going to. Mine not to reason why. All I know is that I am to look after you till then.’

‘I’d like some civilian kit.’

‘Indeed. I have already bought some for you, they knew your size. I was authorized to buy Mrs Hapsburg a change of dress and – er …  underwear, but if it doesn’t fit my daughter’s clothing may do so. Oh, and you’re to stay indoors, please. And you’re not to use the telephone.’ He added: ‘All calls go through our central switchboard.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Now, then, business over, what can I get you to drink?’

‘I’m allowed to drink, am I? A beer, please. But I’ll take it upstairs and drink it while I bath.’

‘Of course. My wife will serve luncheon shortly.’

Morgan said firmly: ‘Thank you, but we’ll skip lunch. We’re both exhausted. I think we’ll just have a bath, a drink and a sleep.’

‘Of
course
,’ Mr Gillespie said, apparently relieved. ‘Would you like my wife to bring a tray to your respective rooms?’

‘That would be a better idea, thank you.’ He added firmly: ‘Mr Gillespie, I don’t know how much head office has told you,
but Mrs Hapsburg and I will be sleeping in the same room.’

Mr Gillespie blinked. ‘You mean, for security reasons? …’

‘Both.’

‘Oh …’ Mr Gillespie touched his spectacles. ‘Well, of course.’ He added with a rush of joviality: ‘Beer …’ He bustled for the door. Then stopped. ‘Oh, I’m told to relieve you of your weapons. Evidently they’re not Her Majesty’s.’

Morgan would have liked to toss the gun at the man, like they do in the movies, except it would have alarmed Mr Gillespie. He placed his machine gun on the desk. Just then there was a smart knock, and the door opened:

‘Ah …’ the consul said, even more relieved.

‘Good morning,’ Christopher Carrington said, with his crooked grin. He was carrying a briefcase.

Morgan stared at him.

Carrington propped himself against the bookshelves, pipe in hand, a picture of masculine elegance. In civilian clothes. ‘Arrived yesterday,’ he said – ‘thought the Yanks might spring you from jolly old G.H. yesterday, but no such luck. They made a bit of a mess of it, if you ask me. All that sweat just to’ disperse a few fuzzy-wuzzies? After all, they’re not exactly Zulus, are they? We could have done it with one hand tied behind our backs. Still, I must congratulate you, most sincerely, Jack.’

‘What the hell are you here for, Carrington?’

Carrington lit his pipe.

‘Officially, I’m a naval observer of what the Yanks are up to. Officially Maggie Thatcher’s as sore as a gumboil with Ronnie. Unofficially, I’m here to hold your hand.’

‘You, of all people?’

‘Why not? We’re old shipmates.’

Jesus.
‘Well, I don’t need you to hold my hand. Or Anna’s.’

‘Delighted to hear it. As I say, congratulations, Jack.’ He wagged his eyebrows, gave his jolly smirk: ‘I hope it wasn’t all work and no play?’

Jesus, he could hit the bastard. ‘Meaning?’

Carrington took his pipe from his mouth, and examined it.

‘Meaning how are you and Mrs Hapsburg getting along, Jack?’

‘Mind your own bloody business!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Carrington said. He meant it. ‘I’ve offended you, I’m truly sorry, but what I really mean is, it
is
my business you see. How Mrs Hapsburg has taken to you coming back into her life is most important to us. That’s why we sent you. May I ask – are you two – er – close?’

Morgan glared at him. ‘Very. Now go to hell.’

‘Excellent. I will presently, but excellent. And? What has she told you, Jack?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Carrington moved to the consul’s desk, and sat down. He opened his briefcase. ‘Sit down, we’ll start the debriefing.’

‘We will not! I’m going to sleep. And so is Anna.’

‘She has told you nothing at all? I don’t believe you.’

‘Gee, that’s tough, Carrington. What I want to know is what you plan for Anna Hapsburg.’

Carrington put a match to his pipe. He puffed out smoke.

‘We fly tonight in an RAF jet to England. You and Anna will be comfortably accommodated in a safe house. She’ll be debriefed. And you.’ He shrugged. ‘After that, she’s free to do what she likes.’

Morgan resisted saying: She’s free to do what she likes right now! Carrington went on: ‘What we need to know is, is she going to give trouble?’

‘Trouble?’ Morgan said dangerously.

‘Is she going to cooperate?’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

Carrington sighed. ‘That’s the tricky part.’

Oh Jesus … He had to bite his tongue.

‘She’ll cooperate. She’s glad to be off the island. She very much wants to go to England with me.’


Good
,’ Carrington said with relief ‘– we’re
so
pleased. We’re relying on you to reassure her – that’s why we sent you, and jolly well done, too, Jack.’

Morgan jabbed an angry finger at the man: ‘Then get off my back! Don’t you
dare
burst in here like a bull in a china shop with your big tactless mouth and your supercilious smirk and start demanding answers! Or in addition to getting your nose flattened you’ll frighten her off, you big prick! You’ll make her
suspicious! So leave us severely alone until we get to England! And then if you try any tricks on her …’ He held up his finger. ‘I’ll break your neck.’ He jabbed his finger at the ceiling. ‘Now I’m going upstairs to sleep! Don’t you
dare
come near us until it’s time to leave!’

He glared at the man, then strode out of the room.

Carrington smiled and raised his hands in peace.

Morgan strode up the stairs with four bottles of beer and the civilian clothes the consul had given him. Mrs Gillespie was coming down, clutching a bundle of Anna’s clothing. She shook the bundle gaily as she darted past him: ‘Just going to stick these in the washing machine – do give me anything of yours, they’ll be dry in a jiffy! Just leave them outside your door …’

‘Thank you.’

He climbed the stairs, and opened the door to the first bedroom. It had a private bathroom and there was the sound of the shower. He closed the bedroom door behind him. There was a key. He locked the door.

He went to the window. The air conditioner was humming. He twisted the catch and slid the window open. He looked out.

The room was on the side of the house. It was a straight-forward drop from the window, onto lawn. And the window immediately below was the consul’s study. Beyond the lawn were flowerbeds, tropical trees, then a garden wall. About eight feet high. Beyond a road led down to the beach. The other way was the suburban road. Heavily treed. Lampposts.

He turned to the bathroom door. The shower suddenly stopped; the curtain swept back. The door opened and Anna came out.

She was wearing Mrs Gillespie’s bathrobe. Water was still running off her. Her washed hair hung in long tresses. She looked at him angrily.

‘You lied to me.’

He held up a finger, then pointed at the door. He walked into the bathroom, and switched on the shower again. He beckoned her back into the bathroom. She came. He said softly:

‘Anna, this is your last opportunity to think about this. Now, at midnight they’re flying us to England on an RAF plane. The
British intend to interrogate you about this evidence. If you cooperate, I believe you’ll be safe. They’ll protect you from the Russians. Now, do you want to do so?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘You lied to me! And I’m telling you loud and clear that I’m
not
going! They have no legal right to make me go anywhere – I’m an American citizen and I demand to see the American consul!’

He closed the door.

‘Yes, I lied to you! But it’ll do you no good screaming for the American consul because the American government is in on this! How do you think the British got me into an American uniform in an American war? Why did the American admiral have you flown to the British authorities in Trinidad?’

‘Why
indeed?
I think you better start telling me the
truth
!’

‘The truth is yes, I was sent by the British to find you and get you to England! Because yes, the British and Americans want to find this information of Max’s! Just like the Russians want to!’

She hissed, ‘And what are the noble British going to do with it?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘You’re lying to me again!’

He closed his eyes angrily. ‘I am not lying now, Anna. I don’t know what the information is, so I don’t know what they’ll do with it. They’ll exploit it, yes! Now, you’ve got two options –’


Why did you lie to me?’

‘Goddammit, because you were overwrought! You didn’t trust me! I had to figure out what this was about and what to do about it!’

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