Later, in their Bayswater flat, Janet showed Swan some of the outfits she had purchased in Oxford Street and as she packed them into a suitcase, listened to her husband as he briefed her on what they would do when they got to Portugal. They were to meet with an Inspector Ferreira of the Portuguese judicial police, who would be waiting to meet them at the airport.
Janet was excited. She would not just be getting out of the office for a few days, but also for the first time since their wedding, would have her husband all to herself. She hoped that despite the importance of the trip, he would have time to relax with her. It was a man’s world in Portugal, and Janet knew she would be treated differently by the men with whom her husband would be liaising. Despite this, she promised herself to be not only the perfect wife, but also the perfect secretary, to Swan’s official capacity as a representative of her majesty’s ministry of defence.
Locking the suitcase, she turned to him. ‘This Sapphira Menendez, she must be quite attractive, to lure all these men to their deaths so easily.’
Swan shrugged. ‘I think a lot of it comes down to how she acted with them.’
The statement from her husband prompted Janet to do something she had done during her time in the security service. She sat on the end of the bed.
Swan noticed her sudden silence. ‘Something wrong?’
She sighed. ‘Not really, it’s just shortly after you left Leconfield House, I put in for some fieldwork for A-section, and it wasn’t too long before something came up. A South African arms dealer by the name of Fran Viljeon, needed keeping a close eye on. He was suspected of selling arms to the rebels in Kenya. I was sent over to MI6 for a couple of days, for training for this assignment, which was to plant a radio tracker on him.’
Swan smiled at her. ‘You mean that you went for a couple of days to the Irene Adler charm school?’
Janet scowled. ‘Her name is Irene Finlayson.’
‘I know, but she was always known cynically to us at Five, as Irene Adler, you know, after the only woman ever to outwit Sherlock Holmes and she did it so well, that he was forever infatuated with her.’
Janet ignored him. ‘Anyway, after being trained in the ways of attraction and seduction, I was set up in his hotel.’
Swan signalled for her to pause. He poured some wine for them both and handed over her glass. ‘Do go on, my love. This is all beginning to sound most exciting.’
Janet explained that, for a few evenings, she would sit alone at the bar. Her cover story being that she needed a few days away from her husband, who was a stock trader in the city; she was thinking of divorcing him, having suspicions he was involved in an affair.
‘Eventually, Viljeon came over to speak to me. We had a drink together and then he invited me to have dinner with him.’ She noticed her husband had raised a cynical brow. ‘No Alex, it was not what you think. I met him the next evening as he sat in the bar, talking to two other men — they were Africans, and he introduced me to them. I think they were his rebel contacts. He left them and he took me out for dinner again. This was going to be the night. After dinner, he ordered champagne and invited me to his room. We kissed, and then he retired to the bathroom. I saw my chance to place the tracker in the lining of his wallet, wrote a quick apology note to say that I had decided to give my husband another chance, and quietly left the room. I checked out that night, got into a cab and met with Stratton at Leconfield House for my debriefing.’
Swan placed his hand on her knee. ‘So, how did you feel afterwards?’
‘I was called into see the DG the next morning and he asked if I wanted to become a field operative, permanently! They were obviously very pleased with what I had done.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I said that I would prefer to remain a researcher, as I had never been so scared in all my life.’
Swan took a sip of wine. ‘That’s a shame. Sounds like you would have done well.’ He then reminded her of the time when they had lured Fleischer’s assassin, getting him to follow them along Victoria Embankment. ‘You did well there, too.’
‘Sorry Alex, that was different. There were things I was doing at the time in my job. It made me think of Christopher and how brave he had been destroying that German railgun. When you phoned to brief me about Baumann, I just saw it as a way of trying to be like my brother. I think that’s why I agreed to do it, despite we both easily could’ve been killed that day.’
Swan walked over, leant down and kissed her forehead. ‘You did well, on both accounts. I love you Janet.’ He sat down on the bed beside her and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. ‘Now, how about showing me some of Irene Adler’s training?’
Chapter 9
The local net repair man, in Hope Bay on the tropical island of Bermuda, accidentally cut himself with his knife. He had been struck suddenly by an amazing sight, a few miles out to sea.
In the bright blue water was an old grey tug, and behind it at, the end of a tight cable, was an old submarine.
The net repair man dropped the web of tangled rope at his bare feet, stood up and placed his finger in his mouth. As he sucked away the blood, he was transfixed by the long sleek object, passing in front of him through the bay.
Other locals also began to gather to look at this most unusual visitor to their shores, mutterings enquiring of its sudden presence beginning to flow among them.
On the top of the rusting sail, Murphy spied them through his binoculars, then checked his watch. Around the bay was his expected destination, a small boatyard with a long boathouse to accommodate the 311ft vessel. It was here that the essential conversion work would be carried out, away from the prying, curious eyes of the local population, who might ponder the reasons for the hammering and grinding from the cutting tools that would be used. The submarine was to be here for the next four days, with materials for this transformation already delivered. The crew were to do the work themselves, under their captain’s expert guidance.
Murphy descended into the submarine and appearing on the bridge, surveyed his surroundings and the loyal crew at their designated stations. All were hardened submariners, who had seen plenty of action in various conflicts over the years. Among them, were a couple of World War II veterans. Tempted by both the big bucks and one last chance to see combat, they had jumped at the chance when Murphy approached them. However, only he knew the real target of their operation, and it had to remain that way. The other crew members were all in it for the money, and Murphy had presented them with an offer which suited them handsomely.
The submarine cruised into the small harbour and moved silently under the roof of the boathouse. A few crewmen had climbed out onto the deck to throw the mooring ropes to other men waiting on the quayside, along one side of the hastily erected wooden structure.
Murphy gave the order to cut engines, and the shark-like beast was allowed to drift into position.
Twenty minutes later, after a series of shutdown procedures, the crew emerged from hatches fore and aft along the slim hull. On a gantry above him, Murphy noticed a tall, heavy-looking man, wearing a red baseball cap. Underneath it, a sun-bleached face beamed a smile, and raised a hand to greet him.
Senator Donovan Tremaine then called out: ‘She’s a beauty, Mickey. How was the voyage?’
Murphy stepped off the deck and made his way up the gantry. Taking out a packet of Camel cigarettes, he lit one and offered the packet to Tremaine, who waved a hand to decline. Murphy turned to also look down at the submarine. ‘Swell, Don. She was no problem at all. While she was being towed, I got the guys to overhaul the engines, then for the last ten miles or so, we fired them up, and she ran in on her own from Hope Bay, right here. She’s all good, Don.’