Remember Remember (2 page)

“Where are the others,” moaned Johnson who seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness.

“All dead,” gasped Vernna who sat at the open door of the chopper watching the flat helipad roof for incoming until the helicopter took off and as they gained height, he heard the sound of a small explosion before they were gone.

Vernna, now knowing they were momentarily safe, turned to Johnson to speak but could see he had now lapsed into unconsciousness. One of his colleagues strapped Johnson’s arm and leg above his wounds in an attempt to stop the loss of blood, but could do little with Johnson’s chest wound.

Vernna, knowing that Johnson had little time to live shouted to the pilot to fly toward the military hospital at Latakia but shook his head in despair knowing the chances of Johnson living were slim as the helicopter headed towards Syrian airspace and safety.

Major Rock’s report proved chilling reading. He had lost both SAS men; Sergeant Impey to gunshot wounds to the head and Captain Smart killed by a boobytrap grenade, Major Rachid was dead along with five of his men. They had engaged and killed three terrorists but Alan Johnson had escaped by helicopter.

Rock had requested air support to track and even bring down the helicopter but with the death of Rachid communication with the Egyptian authorities had been difficult. However, the helicopter had been tracked flying across Egyptian airspace until it was lost entering Syria.

They had analysed blood samples taken from the lift in which only two men ascended and also taken samples from the twenty-first floor and the heliport and this had been confirmed to be the same blood type as Johnson’s. There was so much blood congealed in the lift and on the twenty-first floor, to make Rock believe that Johnson had been critically injured and without fast emergency treatment would die.

The report concluded that the operation was unsuccessful on three counts, those being that no terrorist cell had been observed or apprehended, Johnson was not in custody and finally there had been much loss of life. Furthermore the operation had been designed to apprehend and interrogate Johnson to discover his intentions, then minimise and contain risk; but without Johnson or any of his cell that too had failed. Rock’s final statement had been to offer his resignation from Special Branch Counter Terrorism and await a formal response.

September 10
th
, The Brown Cow, Hillgate, Stockport.

Jacky had returned to work a different woman. She had spent fifteen days in interrogation, firstly with the Egyptians in Cairo, then with both the Americans and British in the UK.

The fact she knew nothing and was not involved in any joint terrorist act became apparent within days. The change from love of Johnson to sadness, sorrow, then anger, hate and despair took longer. She was released when it was believed she was now “on side” and would be of no further help to Johnson. She had lost over a stone in weight, which had lined her face and her greying hair seemed to have aged her ten years.

Her cheery confidence, assertive style and self esteem seemed to have drained from her and her work behind the bar of the Brown Cow now seemed like that of a robot, capable but without character. She felt alone and abandoned having no idea of Johnson’s feelings as she had not read his letter which had been confiscated by ship’s security before her return. The mood in the snug of the Brown Cow was now dull, with most people in a state of shock but trying to support her as she worked through her disbelief and despair.

September 19th, Jacky James’ house, Stockport.

A black Jaguar S type pulled up outside Jacky’s house and out stepped one man from the rear door, who crossed the pavement, opened the small gate and pressed the bell on her front door. Jacky looking thin and haggard answered within a couple of minutes and looked at the man enquiringly but said nothing.

Commander Bagshaw opened his hand towards her, displayed his photo ID and said, “My name is Bagshaw, I’m from Special Branch, may I please come in for a few minutes. I have something to tell you which I know will interest you.”

“Special Branch,” she sneered, “what the hell do you want with me, I’ve told you all I know”

Bagshaw interrupted, “It’s some information about Alan Johnson.”

Her face softened, then hardened, then she smiled and waved him into the house, “Come in, come in and tell me the bastard’s dead or dying or critically injured, make my day.”

“I can’t tell you how he is but I can give you something that I believe he wanted you to have.” He opened his coat and pulled an envelope from his inside pocket, which he gave to her and said softly “He left this on the ship for you. It has only recently been given to me.”

She opened the envelope, sat down and read Alan’s letter:

“Dear Jacky, my darling Jacky;

The two rings you find enclosed are a gift from me; for you to do with as you wish. I had intended to ask you to marry me on this cruise but now realise how totally arrogant of me that would have been. Firstly because you might actually have said no at the moment of asking but secondly and more importantly because you would definitely have regretted a “yes” decision, as the true nature of my intentions were explained to you by others.

If you do care for me you will go through so many different emotions in the coming weeks as you are interrogated by those who want to find, arrest and imprison me. There will be anger, fear, sadness, bewilderment and despair, all in the belief I have used you and my country.

My truth is I have grown to love you and I want to marry you, to settle down and be just plain and ordinary. But I am not ordinary and therefore I have misled you, not with my emotional intentions but with what is my true goal in life today. I want to ask you to keep the rings and wait for me but I know how utterly ridiculous and selfish that is, because however you feel about me now, they who work on you after this day will distort your thinking and feelings about me.

I have existed, I still do exist and I hope one day we will meet again and you will say “yes” to my request for your hand in marriage. Because at this moment in time I truly, deeply love you and I cannot see that ever changing.

Please believe there is goodness in me, not evil.

I love you,

Alan Johnson.”

She seemed to take an age to read the letter, then looked at the Commander, then re-read the letter, then fingered the two rings. She looked at him, again tried to smile then burst into tears and screamed, “What have you done to him? What have you done with him? Where is he? Why hasn’t anybody told me about this before?”

Bagshaw sat in a chair, smiled a brief smile trying to placate her and replied, “We have done nothing to him, I can’t tell you any more than that now and I am sorry that you have had to wait so long for his letter.”

He then stood and approached her, taking the letter and envelope, which he returned to his inside jacket pocket. He looked at her, his usually stern face warming into a smile and whispered, “I must have the letter back for security reasons but you can keep the rings; will you wear them and wait for him?”

“God knows,” she sobbed, “God bloody knows.” She then jumped to her feet and screamed, “What’s going on, what the hell’s going on?”

He gently took her by the shoulders to calm her and replied, “I don’t know, therefore I can’t tell you, but I do know one thing Jacky,” he smiled again and looked at her, “I think Alan Johnson loves you.”

She sobbed back, “You said ‘loves’ not ‘loved’. That means you think he’s still alive.”

“We don’t know, we do believe that he sustained some injuries from ricocheting bullets while trying to escape but we do not yet know if they fatally injured him or if he was taken to hospital and survived. We do know that he boarded a helicopter on the roof of the hotel which eventually landed at a military hospital in Syria, but there our information ends,” he responded.

She slumped down into a chair, put her head into her hands and rocked herself back and forth, her tears running down her face and through her fingers onto the carpet. Bagshaw said nothing, but again gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

At this she raised her head and sobbed, “Please tell me what this is all about,” then angrily pulled away from him and continued “nobody tells me any bloody thing, you’ve known since August about this letter, you must know what I’ve been going through yet you and your bloody friends wait until now to show me this letter and then tell me he may be dead. Why,” she sobbed “why have you done this to me, why can’t you just leave me alone. I was getting my life back, beginning to think I was normal again, after weeks and weeks of agony and despair I could actually hold a conversation with someone without bursting into tears. And now” she screamed, “you’ve brought it all back. All the fucking issues back, why,” she snarled at him, “why do this to me, what do I do now, just sit and ache and cry and slowly, slowly die again?”

He wrinkled his forehead as he chewed at his bottom lip then replied softly, “I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought you would want to know how Johnson felt about you but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am; I’m so very sorry.”

She jumped to her feet and again snarled at him, “You’re sorry, you’re fucking sorry? Then if you are tell me whether he’s dead or alive and if he is alive where he is.”

She stopped talking for a few seconds as her whole body began to tremble and she again sat down trying to hold herself together, then mumbled, “You can’t just leave me like this, I need to know, I need to know.”

He smiled at her and softly replied, “I will try to find out if he is still alive.”

She looked up hopefully and whimpered, “And if he is, can I go and see him?”

He shook his head and replied, “If he is alive I am sure he will have changed his name and probably his looks and will be a fugitive for a very long time. Therefore to search for him would be futile, it may also endanger your life and possibly Alan’s and finally the Syrians, if he is still in that country, would not give you access; therefore trying to find him is not an option,” he pursed his lips, looked at her and said softly, “I’m so very sorry.”

He paused for a few seconds then turned to go saying, “I must leave now, but I will do as I have said. He smiled at her and sighed, “I do hope that one day you will be happy.” At this he opened the door, shouted, “Goodbye,” closed it behind him and entered the Jaguar.

YEAR ONE

May 20
th
, Year 1, The Cellar Bar, The White House Hotel, London, England.

“Why choose this place?”

“Quite a few reasons really, just look around you, it’s empty, it’s also underground and lit by candles, very cosy but quite dark, with no CCTV. The staff are busy preparing food for this evening and because it’s a holiday hotel they’re used to many different faces. We fit in here, we’re nothing out of the ordinary and even if we were, another reason is that somebody has plans for this place. A total renovation will begin in 3 months and this bar won’t even exist after that. The staff will have disappeared and therefore anybody wanting to check on whether this meeting took place will have an impossible task.”

Alan was an average guy, average age, average height, some hair, white, dressed to go anywhere, he could blend into any surroundings from 5 star hotels, local pubs, shops, restaurants, railway stations and even the theatre, he was average, just “Mr Average, Mr Grey,” instantly forgettable.

Shan was different, although born in England he still had roots in the Middle East and was a practising Muslim. He was well dressed, tall, and dark with a Roman nose and striking cheek bones. Alan knew Shan would be instantly recognisable and knew there could be only one or two more meetings in England with him at most. Shan had the business links; he was part of the money chain. The one item Alan needed in spades to achieve his plans.

“You see what I mean about the waiters being busy? We’ve been here 10 minutes now and no service. What do you want to drink?”

“Get me a large orange juice please,” replied Shan.

Both waiters were foreign; Alan guessed Albanian and their command of English proved slight. However, trade was made; change given and another reason for picking this place had been confirmed to Alan; because in the unlikely event the staff would want to listen, the possibility of them fully understanding was remote.

He returned with the drinks and placed them on the table, Shan took a drink of the orange juice, replaced his glass on the table, leant toward Alan and said, “I’m here; I was intrigued with your letter. Why all these complex instructions, walk some distance, get a taxi, don’t use the tube and leave the taxi down Euston Road?”

He smiled and replied, “The underground has more cameras than you can imagine. Walking and taxis, it’s not perfect but it helps keep you anonymous.” He looked around to confirm they were not being overheard, then continued, “now, down to business; I have been reading with interest Phase three of your plans and assume the events from 2000 to date were all part of Phase two therefore Phase three is to be the one.”

Shan shrugged and smiled then said, “Maybe it is, maybe not, I think there will be many phases, our business is long term. There is no end to it; future generations of supporters have not yet been born.”

Alan continued, “I have an idea, it’s extremely simple, it will be very effective, it will create havoc, chaos and death on a scale that will be mind blowing.”