Swan was now even more pleased for the absent Reynolds. Despite the mercenary’s earlier claim that he had been the only survivor, it was now clear that despite injury, at least two had got through it. ‘David would indeed be delighted right now to hear this news.’
Daffaut explained how, after telling his team leader to go on without him, he had given him some covering fire to aid Reynolds’ escape. Daffaut had been shot in the shoulder, so had ceased firing. The Greek soldiers had then taken him, and had also found Sami Ahmed. After patching them up, they were in the middle of being interrogated when a British army medical unit appeared on the scene in a Saracen APV. Under the terms of an agreement signed by Greek representatives in Geneva, the Greek commander had been asked to hand over the ‘British prisoners’. ‘When we were placed inside the Saracen, I remember the face of one of the medics, I think his name was Harry, as he said to his colleague, “I don’t think these guys are British, Joe”.’
Daffaut then laughed, but soon regretted it, wincing in pain for laughing too much. Swan shook his head. ‘So, what will happen with you and Ahmed, once you recover?’
‘The British redcaps are investigating us.’ He then lent forward to whisper into Swan’s ear. ‘We are planning not to be here much longer. We have a ship waiting at Limassol to take us back to Morocco.’
Swan smiled. Why not? he thought. After all they had been involved in, they deserved to escape and fight for another pay packet.
Jack Rowse looked at his watch. ‘We need to be off back to the base, Alex. Our VC-10 leaves in forty-five minutes.’
Swan shook hands with both Daffaut and Hornsby, wishing them both a speedy recovery. Daffaut raised a hand. ‘If you see David, again, Alex, make sure that you tell him about us,’ said the Frenchman.
‘I can’t say that I will see him, Jacques. You see, your operation was a set-up for something a lot bigger. The last thing David said to me before I jumped was that he had a score to settle, and something tells me, from the way he has vanished, that he is still determined to settle it.’
The two men left the two patients to talk about Reynolds as they headed back to the air base.
Almost an hour later, as the RAF VC-10 left the Akrotiri runway bound for Brize Norton, Swan recounted his thoughts concerning the events that had managed to deceive everyone.
Jack Rowse had similar issues in his head, still suffering from the shock of how his boss had been involved. He suddenly thought of the body count. Why did so many people have to die over this?
By coincidence, Swan had been asking himself the same question. Some of these victims had been innocent. Even the Praying Mantis, in a way, had been caught like a trapped fly in this viscous web of deceit. She had failed to see she was also being played.
Rowse sighed. ‘I just don’t get it, Alex. What did this Senator Tremaine hope to gain from all this? Turkey was always going to invade the island, anyway. They’ve been threatening to, since 1964.’
Rowse explained how the situation had deteriorated so much. With Cyprus being granted its independence, the Turkish government had considered how badly their people were being treated and how the Cypriot president, pushing for enosis with Greece, had forced them to press for partition.
The Americans also favoured this as a solution to the problem. The president thought this would solve a lot of things, it would also increase the probability that Britain give up the SBAs.
‘If we were to pull out of Cyprus, a partition of the island would sustain the NATO eastern flank. Turkey is a major ally to the United States. The massive supply of arms to the country proves that it is, or at least it was, until the recent embargo.’
Swan now had all the pieces in place, all that he needed for his next move.
Rowse stared out of the window and looked at the southern section of the island, as their plane rose higher over the sea. ‘So, what do I do now? Do I take this to the Foreign Secretary? Inform him of Allenby’s part in the Danvers murder and the Ankara Agreement deception? His collusion with Tremaine?’
Swan interrupted him. ‘Which raises another question — Donovan Tremaine. Does the American administration know what he’s been doing, I wonder?’
Rowse shifted in his seat. ‘Right now, Alex, I reckon they are a bit preoccupied with Nixon’s sudden resignation to be concerned with foreign affairs.’
Swan caught Rowes’ gaze.
‘Precisely, Jack! A perfect shroud for Tremaine to achieve what he needed to with Cyprus. The Turks even helped him, by timing their invasion on the same day as the start of these events, the incident in London.’
Rowse suddenly became excited. ‘We are the only ones who really know everything. Apart from Reynolds, of course.’
Swan agreed. ‘Which means that we must use this knowledge, take it back to its source and make sure that justice is done.’
‘What will you do?’
Swan knew what he had to do. ‘Well, first I am going to spend some time with my wife, then I’m going to go to Washington and confront our Mr Tremaine and have it out with him, face to face.’
Chapter 37
After a long early flight to Washington DC, Swan sat outside Tremaine’s office on the first floor of the Capitol building.
On the wall was a plaque commemorating the burning down of the White House by the British in 1812. Swan smiled to himself, realising how significant this was, given his own reasons for arranging to see the senator.
Still bleary-eyed, Swan was recalling the events of the last few day when suddenly, a buzz sounded on the secretary’s phone and her long slender hand reached for the receiver. As she listened, her eyes moved to the Englishman in front of her. She put the receiver back down again and smiled at him.
‘The senator will see you now, Mr Swan. Please go straight in.’
With a polite acknowledgement, Swan raised himself, collected his briefcase and walked towards the door, noticing two men already standing in the doorway. The bigger of the two men studied him and nodded. ‘Mr Swan, Donovan Tremaine.’ The other man turned as Tremaine introduced him. ‘This is my aide, Nick Everard.’
Swan’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the outstretched hand. ‘I believe we have already met, a few weeks ago in London. Simpson’s in the Strand restaurant, to be precise. I was with an old acquaintance of yours, Clinton Sanger, and you were with David Reynolds, a former SAS soldier, finalising an operation against EOKA B terrorists in Cyprus. At least, that’s what he was led to believe.’
Tremaine ushered both men in to his office and closed the door behind them. He then walked over to his desk and retrieved a box of cigars, lit a fresh one and offered one to the others. He was irritated when Swan declined.
‘I trust you had a pleasant flight. Can’t stand early travel myself though, much prefer a bit later in the morning.’ He offered Swan some refreshments and was taken aback by another refusal.
‘I don’t think this meeting should take very long, senator,’ Swan stated.
Swan ignored Tremaine’s outstretched hand and sat down opposite him at the desk.
‘So, you said that you want to talk to me about Cyprus?’
Swan nodded. ‘That’s right, indeed I do, but before we go into that, I would just like to ask you both a question. Why did a good and innocent man have to die?’
Tremaine pretended to look at Swan in bewilderment at what he had just been asked.
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr Swan. Who died?’
Everard interrupted, ‘Yeah, and how the hell do you know so much about Reynolds?’