Carrick Roads

Trinity Club, London - Seven Years Later

Trinity Club, London - Seven Years Later“Trinity Club, Bayswater, please cabbie.”

“Yes, sir.”

Matt Jensen sank into the worn leather seat as the black cab pulled out of London’s Euston Station.

Matt, a shade under six feet, broad shouldered, dark wiry hair with greying sideburns, stubble beard, and hazel eyes. Aged 51 an Ex-Commander in the Naval Intelligence Service, later recruited, by the Defence Security Service (MI6) in the rank of Commander. He’d served in numerous dangerous parts of the world.

Following his tragic mission in Albania. Matt had walked away from MI6, spending the last few years as a private security consultant, carrying out occasional clandestine assignments for several international oil and gas companies and number of national government security services.

Gazing out through the side window, as the streets of London flashed by, why after all these years, has David contacted me, inviting me to lunch at his club today?

* * *

The steward at reception, smiled at him, “good morning sir, may I help you?”

“Yes, thank you, my name is Matt Jensen. I am meeting Mr David Pleshey.”

“Ah! Yes sir, may I take your hat and coat?”

“Thank you,” said Matt, handing the steward his camel overcoat, silk scarf and, brown trilby hat.

“Charming club, tell me, how long has it been here?”

“Been here for a 147 years, sir.” The steward turned pointing up to four large ornate, gilt and rosewood framed portraits hanging along the oak-panelled hall wall. “It was founded by those four retired admirals back in 1872.”

Matt gazed up at the distinguished looking naval officers.

“You’ll find Mr Pleshey in the Java Room; I believe he’s expecting you, sir, take the door to the right of the stairway.”

Matt, noticed the steward pointing down the cobalt blue carpeted hallway, toward an impressive looking carved oak door, with a gleaming polished brass plate, identifying it as the Java Room. “Okay, thank-you.”

Going in, Matt was amazed at its historical naval theme. It replicated a Captain’s cabin of a seventeenth-century Royal Navy ship-of-the-line warship. Paintings of famous naval battles hung along oak-panelled walls.

Deep red leather inlaid oak tables, with replica Captain’s chairs, were arranged in sets of four on the plush burgundy carpet. Brass replica ship lanterns hung above the tables. Even the oak framed windows replicated those fitted in the stern of a ship’s cabin, with small gold framed glass squares and, rich red velvet curtain pelmets draped across the top of each window.

Matt spotted David Pleshey sitting across the room, near the fireplace, in a rather large, but very comfortable looking antique style leather armchair.

Matt, had not seen David since the tragic end of his mission, seven years ago, when, his Polish field partner, Anna, had been brutally murdered.

“Ah! Matthew thanks for coming at such short notice.” David, stood and held out his hand.

“It’s Matt now,” he said, as he shook David’s hand.

“Sit down, great to see you again, Matt, must say you're looking fit and healthy.”

David was a short man, in his late fifties with immaculate greying hair thinned by excessive brushing.

“I expect you are wondering why, after all, these years, I asked you to meet with me today?”

“Well, yes, I am a little curious?”

David summoned the waiter over. “Can I get you a drink, Matt?”

“Yes thanks,” Matt look toward the waiter. “Remy XO brandy, please.”

The waiter nodded, glancing at David.

“I’ll have my usual please Tom.”

The waiter bowed and scurried away.

“How was your journey down from Rugby Matt?”

“No problems. Only takes an hour on the train to get into Euston Station.”

“Our drinks,” said David, “thank you, Tom.”

David lifted his glass and turned to Matt, “Cheers.”

“Good health,” said, Matt.

“Matt, I was sorry to hear you and Katherine had broken up after so many years together.”

How does he know that? Thought Matt. “Well that was over seven years ago now. Not the best time of my life.”

“Do you see your son often, sorry forgotten his name?” David asked.

“James, no, he took the view I was never there for him or his mother. I haven’t seen nor heard from him since the divorce.”

“James, yes, I remember now,” said David. “Perhaps I should take some blame for the frequent and prolonged periods you were away from home.”

David put his glass down and smiled at Matt. “What I wanted to talk to you about Matt is a matter of strict confidentiality, so I would be grateful if you would keep this to yourself.”

Matt, tilted his head to one side and nodded acknowledging his understanding.

“Do you remember years ago when we set up the security arrangements for the Prime Minister’s visit to India, to attend Mrs Gandhi's funeral?”

Matt’s eyes widened, “yes, real security headache that was, all those heads of state in one place, terrorist dream come true that was!”

“Yes, gave us sleepless nights didn’t it Matt.”

“You’re damn right it did!”

“Matt, they’ve assigned me the task of organising the security cover for attendance at a notable event by the Prime Minister, together with another head of state. One of my responsibilities is forming a trustworthy elite team. That’s where you come in Matt, what about joining me to head up the team? Be like old times!”

Matt’s spine shivered as his mind flashed back seven years to Albania, when he’d found Anna’s lifeless tortured body lashed in her death chair.

“Well, I’m very flattered David, but, to tell the truth I don’t know about that cloak and dagger stuff again?”

“Nonsense, with your specialist skills and military background, you’re the ideal choice,. Not to mention a generous salary and substantial expense account.”

Stroking his chin, Matt, thought it strange that David had not even mentioned his failed mission in Albania and, death of his partner, Anna, seven years ago. He lowered his glass, cupping it in his hands. Puffing out his cheeks, he said “ok, there’s no harm in listening to this assignment of yours.”

“The job is the grand opening of the new Channel Freight Tunnel, by the British Prime Minister and French President. The ceremony will take place at mid-point inside this new tunnel. Prime Minister enters from Folkestone end and French President comes from Calais end. They meet halfway and symbolically cut a ribbon to declare the new tunnel officially open.”

David leaned back in his chair, sipping his drink and raised his eyebrows. “What do you think? Piece of cake. Only two points of entry to cover, after all, it’s a tunnel old boy. Just the usual restricted entry, body searches, and scans for explosives, etc., and Bob’s your uncle!”

Matt smiled wryly, “David if this assignment is such a piece of cake, why are you so keen for me to join you? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

David leant forward in his chair and smiled; “you were always too bloody smart for your own good. We have Intel that may not be reliable. It claims there will be an attempt to disrupt the ceremony, what form it may take is unknown, but we’re working on that.”

Matt glanced at David, “where’s this information originated?”

“You mean geographically or where the source came from?”

“Is there a difference?,” said Matt.

“Well, yes and no, fact is we don’t know where the information has originated from. All we know is the Directorate-General for Internal Security (DGIS), the French intelligence service, received anonymous information that an attempt is to be made to disrupt the ceremony, by whom or how, we don’t know. Not even sure this information is dependable. I mean for all we know, it could be irate French farmers upset by British lamb imports, or some fanatical crank who wants to stir up trouble between the UK and French governments. Point is we cannot take chances on this one.”

Matt places his glass down and looks over at David. “Okay, let’s assume for the moment the information is accurate, what is the worst scenario that may happen?”

David sat back and looked about the room, as if searching for inspiration.

“Well! it would have to be some form of an explosive device, I suppose?”

“Right,” said Matt. “So what vulnerable situations would need to be present to allow someone to plant explosive devices. Then remain undetected by scanners and periodic searches? I assume you are planning to put scanners in place, both on the English and French side?”

“Oh! Yes, well that goes without saying, old boy. We intend to install them at each portal of the new tunnel works, inside the tunnel, and close to the site of the opening ceremony. CCTV cameras will also be installed several days before the opening ceremony.”

Matt finished his drink and put his glass back on the table and sank back into his chair. “So, what do you need me to do?”

David grinned, he knew Matt couldn’t resist the challenge. This is the Matt I knew of old, thought David. He’ll already be considering potential vulnerability scenarios, preventative solutions and controls. “To do what you do best, find out if the Intel is credible, if so, stop them!”

“Oh! Just like that eh!” Matt said, as he leaned forward in his chair. “When do we start?”

David smiled, raising and bending his arm, he looks at his watch. “Let's see now? What about Monday old chap”?

“That’s only two days from now!” Exclaimed Matt.

David laughed! “What else have you got to do?”

Matt, sighed and gazed up at a large painting hanging, over the Adams style mantelpiece. “Isn’t that HMS Java?”

David didn’t even turn his head. “Yes, it’s Montague Dawson’s painting of her 1812 engagement with the USS Constitution, nicknamed ‘Old Ironsides’.

“She was a Royal Navy 38-gun Frigate. Originally a 40-gun Pallas-class French Frigate. The British captured her in 1811. She’s famously known for her battle, on 29 December 1812, with the American heavy frigate, USS Constitution. In the course of battle, she was rendered a wrecked ship and not worth taking as a prize. On New Year’s Day 1813, two days after the engagement, they set Java ablaze, and blew her up. As you have worked out already, this room is named after HMS Java,” said David. Raising his glass, “to HMS Java and to all those who had the good fortune of sailing on her. Right Matt, what about some lunch?”

Matt paused, as he strolled into the Nelson Restaurant, sensing a calming atmosphere. He noted a number of antique world maps, in ornate brass frames, hanging along the cream and burgundy striped walls.

“Let’s sit over by the window shall we?” Said David.

They walked over to a mahogany dining table, set out with matching cutlery, crystal wine glasses, and cream linen napkins.

“Good Afternoon Gentlemen,” said the waiter. “May I offer you an apéritif?”

“Yes, thank you, Giles,” said, David.

“What will you have Matt?”

“I’ll have a glass of vermouth over ice, please.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Giles, jotting it on his pad. Gazing over at David “and for you sir?”

“Glass of chilled Chablis, for me, and some sparkling mineral water, please Giles.”

Giles jotted it down and passed David and Matt a lunch menu and wine list, bowed and strolled back toward the bar.

“David, this is an inspiring setting and, with such an impressive lunch menu.”

David beamed, “I thought you would enjoy meeting here instead of Starbucks or Costa coffee.”

“Your Vermouth sir,” turning to David. “Your Chablis and mineral water sir.”

“Thank you, Giles.”

“Do you wish to order now, sir?”

David glanced at Matt, who nodded confirming he was ready to order.

Matt, glanced back at the menu, “I’ll have the asparagus with grilled artichoke starter, followed by the pan seared cod fillet, with minted new potatoes, please.”

“Good choice,” said David. “I’ll go for the Ardennes pate, with onion chutney and, baked Keralan styled chicken breast with basmati rice. A bottle of Maison Drouin 2014, please Giles.”

Giles inclined his head and jotted down their lunch choices. “Thank you, gentlemen.” He turned and scurried away to a booth, next to the bar, to enter their lunch choices into the computerised ordering system.

David and Matt relaxed into their chairs and sipped their aperitifs.

While sipping his chilled vermouth, Matt, pursed his lips and tried to read David’s body language.

Giles returned with the wine and poured a small amount into David’s glass. David passed the glass under his nose and then tasted the wine. He looked up and smiled, “superb wine Giles.”

“Thank you, sir,” he moved the bottle to Matt’s glass and, then topped David’s glass up.

“The asparagus sir and, your Pate sir.”

“Thank you, Giles.”

“Well, that was an excellent meal David, thank you.”

“Perks of being employed by the British Secret Service,” chortled David. “Oh! Let me give you my card for my office address and contact numbers; I’ll call down to the Steward to arrange a cab for you.”

“Excuse me, sir; your cab is here.”

“Ok thanks,” said, Matt. “See you Monday then David.”

Matt shook David’s hand and climbed into the cab. “Euston Station, please.”

Chapter 2