He suddenly noticed the images distorting; it had started again. Not now, he thought to himself. Reaching into his jacket, he retrieved the small pot of prescribed pills, popped the cap and threw two into his mouth. Then, lifting himself from the chair and following his doctor’s instructions, he eased over to the bed and laid down for a rest.
Within minutes of closing his eyes, allowing his breathing to perform in rhythm to the pulsing of the engines, the medicine had started to kick in and Murphy had fallen asleep.
Chapter 11
David Reynolds climbed out of a London taxi and handed the fare to the driver. Weary from his early flight from Marrakech, he took in his surroundings. Assorted traffic, from red Routemaster double-decker buses to commercial vans and black taxis, caused him to pause until it was safe to cross. On the other side, he spied his destination.
Inside Simpson’s in the Strand restaurant, Nick Everard sat at a table near the window, and on seeing the ex-SAS soldier standing at the reception desk, waved at him.
The maître d’hôtel, approached to assist, but Reynolds raised his hand and gestured at Everard, explaining that he was here to see this man for a lunch meeting. The smartly-dressed host allowed the big man through to the tables.
Everard got up from his chair and they shook hands. ‘How was the flight?’
‘So, so,’ Reynolds replied. He looked around at the other customers as they tucked into their meals. ‘So, why drag me all the way to London? We could have easily done all this in Morocco.’
Everard explained about his encounter with the secret police and how he was abducted and taken away for interrogation. ‘So you see, I don’t really want to run into that son of a bitch again, as long as I live!’
Reynolds sniggered. ‘Ah, it sounds like you ran into my old friend, Mo Kasur. Yeah, he can be a bit of a bastard. You were lucky. Normally, the people he takes off the streets just disappear. So, what did he ask you? I lay odds on it being all about me.’
‘Actually, it was. He knew that I just had a meeting with you and wanted to know why.’
‘And you told him?’
‘No, I just said that it was a job offer overseas and on behalf of the people I work for.’
Reynolds stared down at the table. ‘Kasur can be a right evil git. He wants nothing more than to view me through a cage, give me a regular beating, until finally he gets fed up and lops my head off with a machete.’
A waiter appeared, and the two men ordered lunch. During their meal, they spoke more about the operation.
‘So, you managed to get everything on the list?’ Reynolds enquired.
Everard dabbed his mouth with a napkin. ‘Everything. It’s all waiting for you in Limassol; storage house three.’ The American leaned over, reached into his briefcase and pulled out a large manila envelope, placing it in front of Reynolds. ‘It’s all in there: docking passes, cargo records and company ID cards for all your men. There is also a key to the storage house.’
Reynolds tapped the envelope. ‘And the rest of the fee?’
‘We’ll be doing all that as soon as we leave here.’
Reynolds leant back, sipping his coffee. ‘Great! We’re all set then. This time on Monday, we’ll be docking in Cyprus.’ Reynolds a worried look on the American’s face. ‘Problem?’
‘Actually, Dave, we are going to need to bring the operation forward by three days. Our intel has it that the current ceasefire won’t last for long. In fact, we have reports there are already small exchanges going on around Nicosia between the Greek and Turkish armies. If we leave it any later, you and your men could find yourselves in the middle of a combat zone.’
Reynolds gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. He had not expected this.
‘Jesus! That means that the next time I see my men, will be at the dock in Limassol on Friday.’ He thought about this for a few moments. Was there enough time for a final briefing, even if it was over the phone? Would Jamal and his friend still be alright with this sudden change to the original schedule?
He looked up from his temporary reverie to see two men, one in a dark suit, the other in a grey pinstripe, being shown their seats at a table behind Everard.
Reynolds suddenly began to see why the tables were set far apart from each other, and why Everard had chosen this location for their meeting. Discretion was the order of the day and as the two men shuffled in their chairs, he wondered what the topic of their particular conversation could be.
‘Is everything okay?’ Everard asked, although he had expected a reaction to these changes. ‘Are we still a go?’
Reynolds snapped back into his situation. ‘Yes, it will be fine,’ he said with a platitude.
Everard called over the waiter and asked for the bill.
As the two men rose and began to walk out, Everard suddenly felt his sleeve being tugged. He looked down into a face he instantly recognised.
Giving him a beaming smile, the dark-suited figure stood up and grabbed his hand. ‘Well, well, Nick Everard. Jeez, how long has it been?’ He glanced over at the man in the grey pinstripe suit sitting opposite him. ‘Alex, this is Nick Everard, he used to be an attaché at the embassy. Nick, this is Alex Swan from the ministry of defence.’
Swan shook hands.
Everard smiled, turning to Reynolds. ‘Please to meet you, Alex. This is Dave Reynolds, an old friend of mine,’ he lied. ‘Dave, this is Clinton Sanger — he’s in charge of archives at the US Embassy, here in London — and his friend, Alex Swan, of your defence ministry.’
Shaking his hand, Swan looked the big man up and down, taking in his rugged, tanned and unshaven appearance.
‘So, what’s your line of work then, David?’
‘I’m in exports, Mr Swan. Mainly from the Middle East; handmade carpets, jewellery, that sort of thing.’
Swan nodded, as Sanger cut in. ‘So Nick, what gives? Last time I heard, you were right hand man to a senator, what’s his name? Oh yeah, Tremaine of South Carolina.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I’m kind of moving in different offices in Congress at the moment. I do sometimes work for him, and also do a lot of stuff for others as well.’
Everard hustled Reynolds to make a move towards the exit, ‘Well, it’s been sure good to see you again, Clinton. Nice to meet you too, Alex.’
Swan nodded, curiously observing them as they walked out of the restaurant.
Sanger then interrupted his thoughts. ‘You got that look again, pal. Don’t worry, Nick Everard is a good guy.’
Swan glared at him. ‘It wasn’t him I was concerned about. It was Reynolds. Looks as though he just got off a very early plane.’
‘You got a theory?’
‘He looked ex-military to me. Seems a bit strange he should know someone like your friend. I have come across chaps like that before, and they have usually turned out be soldiers of fortune.’
‘You mean you think this guy could be a mercenary?’
Swan picked up his coffee cup. ‘Precisely.’
‘So, if this guy is, then what the hell is Nick doing with him?’
‘More to the point, dear boy, is why?’
As the two men sat contemplating this, Everard and Reynolds walked slowly along the Strand, towards Charing Cross Station, and then headed up St Martin’s Lane towards the Bank of Switzerland, situated inside the Swiss Centre in Leicester Square. ‘That was a bit close back there, meeting Sanger again. That guy he was with…’
‘Swan, Alex Swan,’ said Reynolds.
‘Yeah, Alex Swan, Ministry of Defence. Sounds like a middle-aged James Bond, if you ask me.’