The Negotiator

Negotiations

When I awoke there was sunlight streaming through a window to my right, it hurt my eyes. I blinked and wondered where I was. Then some memory of the past few days came to me and I gasped looking around for my persecutors. I was lying in bed with white sheets someone in white standing at its foot. ‘Good morning’ said a pleasant female voice, glad you’re awake at last.’

I sensed she was smiling at me, the friendly warmth of her voice comforted me, and I relaxed a little ‘what’s happened to me?’

‘You’re in Hospital Jack’ she said moving to my side and taking my hand, ‘you’ve had a pretty rough time, but you’re gonna be OK.’

She was a black woman in her mid twenties with a sweet gentle face, the kind of face that tells you instantly that here is a person you could trust, a person in the right job.

I relaxed a bit more then I said, ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’ Her huge luminous eyes smiled before the rest of her face did. That she cared for others radiated from her. I felt safe with her there, for the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

‘Nurse Tara Browne at your service Jack. I’m gonna be looking after you until you’re well again, which may take a little time, but you’re gonna be OK’ she reassured me again. Then she gave me a drink of water and checked my bandages, the one around my head felt huge. She took my temperature, pulse and blood pressure, made a note on a clip board and hung it on the end of my bed.

‘Your ear was almost burned off’ she said ‘but Mr Abrams, your surgeon, managed to save it. Your scrotum, too. He’s the finest surgeon we have.’

A twinge of fear passed through me, ‘what about, you know, what about my prospects?’ I said looking down.

‘Well,’ she said, looking serious, ‘we’ll have to do more tests, but I’ve seen men with worse injuries than yours make a full recovery and go on to become fathers.’

Her manner was not only reassuring, she had that calm, professional air that told you she would always tell the truth, that she would never bullshit you just to make you feel good. Maybe Florence Nightingale had those qualities, too. Oh, for a woman like her in my life I thought. Then my heart lurched, and reality set in. What was I thinking for f***s sake? A common soldier with bugger-all prospects, one who might be dead tomorrow. She belonged to that class of normal, decent people who didn’t, and would never, kill their fellow man. What the hell had I have to offer a woman like her, or any woman for that matter? Patricia had loved me and now she was dead because of it. What right had a bastard like me even to dream? The answer saddened me, and I pushed the thought away lest I started feeling sorry for myself.

I slept most of that day. In the evening I got a very pleasant surprise. Harriet called in, her face was serious with concern. ‘Hi, Jack, how are you feeling?’

‘Never better’ I lied ‘how are you?’

‘I’m fine Jack, now I know you’re over the worst.’ Her look was one of a woman with a worry on her mind.

‘How come you’re here?’ I asked, ‘surely you’ve not flown over just to visit me? I thought I was deniable?’

She looked like she was making up her mind about something wondering how much to tell me. Her face cleared as she came to her decision ‘Jack, you’ve been here over two days now. At first, we feared we would lose you. You’d been burned, electrocuted and beaten. You were in a state of advanced shock, your heart stopped three times.’

‘Yeah, Harriet, but I’m deniable so, I’ll ask you again, what the hell are you doing here?’

She looked me in the eye ‘the government say they don’t know who you are or where you’re from. But we’re Army Jack, we don’t dessert our own. You wouldn’t deny me, I know, and I’ll be damned if I’ll deny you.’

I was very touched this could end her career, even end in a prison sentence. ‘Harriet you’re risking your career, everything’ I told her.

She smiled, a little ruefully I thought, ‘I went to the Brigadier, good man that he is, and he gave me two weeks leave effective that day. He too is a soldier and won’t let his own down no matter what. He feels responsible for you Jack, it’s him who is personally picking up your hospital bill and he’s not a rich man.’

I was shocked, the government wouldn’t fund a penny of my treatment so if the brigadier hadn’t stepped in god alone knows what my fate would have been. I found myself feeling deeply grateful to this fine officer, what a gentleman.

She was talking again. ‘You’ve pissed off some pretty important people Jack, the local chief of the CIA for a start, he wants your hide.’

‘What the f**k have I done now?’ I asked irritated.

‘Well, for a start, Jack’ she said, ‘you came into the country on forged papers. You then commit burglary and proceed to kill three people, all foreign nationals, by torturing them to death in the most gruesome manner. One of those people was a senior military officer in his country’s administration. He was travelling on a diplomatic passport, Jack. He had immunity. The diplomatic types in Washington are deeply embarrassed, as I know only too well.’

‘Oh, poor bloody them’ I replied ‘my heart bleeds purple piss for them. What the f**k was I supposed to do? Let the bastards kill me?’

‘The thing is Jack, both the Irish and the Libyans want the bodies of their countrymen repatriated. If you’d just shot them that would have been one thing, but the bodies in the condition they are in? Good god man, that could start an international incident that would reverberate for years to come, branding the West as monsters.’

‘So, what’s the answer?’ I asked her.

‘There isn’t one I’m afraid, the Americans have registered the cause of death as shooting by a person or persons unknown.’ She was silent for a while, she had always known that if the s**t hit the fan I was deniable. Well, the s**t had hit the fan and I was being officially denied. But then why was she here at all? I’d have to work out my own salvation. I changed the subject. ‘How did you get the CIA to intervene?’ I asked.

‘I told you I had a personal contact over here, she’s a girl I met at Oxford whilst we were students. You’ve met her before I believe? Her name is agent Samantha Gintz.’

‘Oh yeah, I remember. she was disguised as a tart, she really looked the part, too.’

Harriet smiled ‘Some people don’t have to try as hard as others.’

‘Oh meow’ I said, ‘I thought she was your friend?’

She laughed ‘just our little joke, we’re always slagging each other off. We go back a long way, she was acting on her own initiative when we raided O’Rourke’s place, she took a huge personal gamble for me.’

‘How did you know I was there?’ I asked, it had been puzzling me.

‘When MI5 told me that Anwar had cancelled two important engagements in London at the eleventh hour and had flown to Boston, I knew something was seriously wrong. Then you didn’t report in as usual, something you never do. I knew in my guts they had you.’

‘I’m glad you’re one clever woman, Harriet’ I told her ‘I owe my life to your quick action.’

She smiled demurely and went on ‘I contacted Samantha and told her what I thought had happened to you then I took off for Boston. The only trouble was I was twenty-four hours behind Anwar. I knew they wouldn’t just kill you, they’d want to wring every bit of information and propaganda value out of you. I was praying you could stand up to their torture long enough for us to find you and mount a rescue.’

‘And you did, too. I’m impressed.’

‘I didn’t. Samantha did. She knows Boston and the O’Rourke gang well. There were limited places they could take you where prolonged torture would go unheard. Folk tend to be a bit noisy when their feet are being burned. She knew of O’Rourke’s s*x habits and about his cellar. Like you Jack, Samantha has friends in low places.’ She reached down and patted my hand, ‘that girl is very special, she put her job on the line going in without a warrant.’

‘Will she be coming? I’d like to thank her’ I said. She told me she would, but it could take a few days.

She looked at me seriously ‘You did bloody well Jack. Most people would have cracked in the first two hours. If you had, you wouldn’t be here now. And how the hell did you manage to overcome the three of them? That Saeed bloke was built like a tank.’ She looked at me with something between incredulity and horror. I felt very uncomfortable.

‘They got cocky and careless’ I told her. ‘They got sloppy once they thought they’d won. I simply took advantage of the situation, that’s all. I scored in extra time.’

She laughed unconvincingly, well they certainly threw that game away.’ Then she became serious: ‘Look, Jack, they’ll be around to question you soon, I understand your make up and why you did what you did, but they don’t. They see you as a brutal executioner, a maniac. What are you going to tell them?’

‘Who?’

‘Please Jack, be serious. There are a lot of American top brass screaming for your head. They are clamouring to interview you, only the good doctor Abrams is keeping them at bay. Why do you think the police are guarding your room?’

‘I didn’t know they were’ I told her ‘I haven’t set foot through the door yet. You might have noticed the en-suite facilities?’

‘They told me,’ she said ‘that the O’Rourke gang are after you and it’s for your protection. That’s nonsense, of course, they’re scared you might escape, they think you’re some kind of James Bond.’

I looked her in the eye and saw concern there, she was genuinely worried for me. That made a very pleasant change from Frank’s attitude, he’d have thrown me to the wolves and moved on.

Anglo-American relations were rather delicate at the moment and this could easily make them much worse. ‘I was going to tell them the truth, Harriet’ I said, ‘or as near to it as it’s possible.’

She recoiled. ‘So, you’re going to say we sent you and that the forged passport was at our insistence?’ She looked grim.

‘What sort of f*****g i***t do you take me for?’ I snapped. ‘Do you think for one minute they’d believe me?’ Christ, for an educated woman she could be bloody thick at times.

‘Look, Harriet’ I said, ‘you’ve got to trust me on this one. It’s me who can pass for an American, me who did all the study of the country, its history, culture and politics. I know their sensitivities. At the moment they are embarrassed, looking for a scapegoat, a way out. I can give them one. His name was Hanrahan. The Irish American vote is a very important one here in Boston and nationally. What do you think would happen if it became known that the bodies of the dearly departed on their way to the Old Sod to rest in peace had been desecrated for years by international gun runners smuggling arms and explosives?’

I didn’t give her time to answer. ‘If it transpired that the CIA refused to intervene, and resisted all calls and warnings from a trusted ally, what the do you think that might do to the Irish vote? ‘

‘She smiled’ The brown stuff would hit the fan’ she said, ‘senior heads in the CIA would have to roll to appease the Irish lobby.’

‘You catch on fast Harriet now, please, just go back home, will you? Officers of your calibre are badly needed at the sharp end.’

She glared at me, ‘If that was an attempt to flatter me in your own half-arsed way Jack Belthorn, you insubordinate bastard, forget it. I’m staying.’

I sighed, ‘Look, Harriet, ma’am, by taking such a close personal interest in me you are demonstrating that we, that is the British government, are in this up to their necks. You are putting your whole career on the line. If you walk away, leaving a humble None Commissioned Officer to deal with the situation you are demonstrating that the matter is not considered important to us. The American’s aren’t stupid, they’ll read the signals.’

I briefed her on my idea of how to handle the situation and she agreed it was the best way forward. Before she left she surprised me by bending down and brushing my cheek with her lips ‘Take care of yourself Jack. OK?’ Oh yes! that felt so great.

Samantha Gintz came to see me next evening. ‘I had hell getting past your guards, there’s three of ‘em out there’ she said scowling. ‘One in the lobby and two in the corridor here, they searched my bag. I told ‘em I was off duty and wasn’t carrying. I said I’d promised my friend Harriet I’d drop by and cheer you up. They think Harriet is your girlfriend.’ She grinned a wide toothy grin then produced a bottle ‘they took some convincing this that was solely for my own use’ she held up the Bushmills ‘Harriet tells me it’s your favourite?’

I smiled at her ‘God bless all good women’ I said and reached for my water glass ‘There’s a tooth glass in the bathroom’ I told her.

When she was sitting sipping she turned serious ‘Jack, I came to warn you that the scuttlebutt is that some heavyweight guy from Washington is coming to grill you. He wants your head. I think that he’s trying to quell the squawking from Tripoli about how Gadaffi’s envoy, sent on a peace mission to the USA, was murdered while under the protection of the CIA. It doesn’t look good for you Jack.’

I smiled at her. Was this an attempt to open me up? To reveal secrets? She was an extremely good looking girl, nothing like the tart she’d appeared to be when we first met. Now, she looked like a clean-cut cheerleader type, all white toothy smiles and charm. I took a sip of my Bushmills, God, it tasted great. ‘Thanks for this Samantha’ I said ‘as for the warning, thanks for that, too, and everything else you’ve done for me. Tell me, how did you meet Harriet?’ I was keen to steer away from the case and its possible consequences. I certainly didn’t want to discuss my thoughts on it with a CIA agent.

She smiled ‘Call me Sam, will ya? Her ladyship and I go back a long way. We met in a pub in Oxford as first-year students, she was doing psychology, I was studying criminology under Professor Sir Michael Coombs, he’s one of the world’s best, in case you didn’t know?’

I shook my head ‘No, I didn’t know.’

‘Her ladyship was a wild child, full of a great lust for life and as bright as hell. God, did we have some wild times. If Harriet wanted a man, she got him, including a couple of the younger, more desirable professors.’ She looked down and blushed then glanced up through her long lashes ‘She laid some of us girls, too. No one could say no to the Lady.’

‘This doesn’t sound like the Major Harriet Balance I know, she’s rather straight-laced.’ I said, then something puzzled me ‘why do you call her lady?’ I asked, was that her nickname?’

Sam looked shocked ‘you mean you don’t know? I know she’s known as plain Harriet Balance these days, but she is rightfully Lady Harriet Charlotte Margaret Bowes-Monksby-Balance.’

The penny dropped, I’d never associated her name with that family before ‘Oh Christ’ I said, ‘her father was a top judge, keen on being a peacemaker in Northern Ireland. The IRA blew him up.’

Sam nodded, ‘yes, and she changed overnight. She became the most driven student in Oxford, she came top of her year with a brilliant first then surprised everyone in her social set by joining the army. She got top recruit at Sandhurst Military Academy and went into Intelligence.’

I sat back, propped on my pillows, trying to absorb this information.

Sam finished her drink then got up. ’Hey’ she said, ‘I gotta be going Jack, I’ll drop by tomorrow if I get the chance.’ She turned at the door, winked and blew me a kiss.

Sam didn’t come the next night but the night after. Was this part of a ploy to reel me in? I couldn’t make up my mind, so I erred on the side of caution. ‘Bushmills Sam?’ I asked her, pulling the bottle from its hiding place.

‘Sure’, she said ‘I could use one’

We made small talk for a while then she said, ‘Listen, Jack, Dr Abrams can’t keep the bully boys at bay much longer, they are pressuring him and the hospital administration to get at you. The doc’s been telling them that you’re in danger of infection setting in and that your mental state is delicate due to the ordeal you’ve been through.’

I said ‘well, I’ll tell him not to hold them off any longer, it’s time I told them the score anyway.’

She told me of the international media interest, too. Deprived of first-hand facts, there had been all sorts of wild speculative stories circulating, even the Whitehouse had been drawn into the fray. The pressure was mounting.

He came next day later from Washington. Mr Silas G Molesworth the third was a lawyer and a high-ranking government officer. I was told by nurse Browne as she fussed about tidying my room that he looked important and severe. She scolded me in her gentle way for being a ‘scruffy boy’ as she put it. She was about to say something else when her call buzzer went off and she hurried away. A minute after that another nurse came in with a needle on a tray. I’d had that many needles since I’d been there I didn’t notice anything unusual.

‘Antibiotic’ she announced briskly then expertly jabbed me in the arm. She then gave me an icy smile and left.

He came in a few seconds later. He was short, plump and pompous, in his mid fifties if his greying hair was anything to go by. His designer suit, silk shirt and tie and highly polished shoes said I am powerful, don’t mess with me. He brought an assistant too, a nondescript little man who looked like a clerk, he was carrying the lawyer’s expensive leather attaché case. Molesworth glowered at me.

Suddenly my vision became blurred and I must have passed out for a minute or so because the next thing I remember was the brisk nurse standing over me. She looked into my eyes with a torch then announced, ‘he’ll be OK in a minute, sir’ then she left.

He was vague about the exact department he belonged to. Full of pomp, piss and self-importance, I could tell from his demeanour he was not at all happy at being sent in person to interview a mere Non-Commissioned Officer of a foreign army. Not that I cared I was floating for some reason. He was an officious, overbearing bastard who started in at me straight away, warning me that if I didn’t want to spend the next ninety-nine years in jail I’d better co-operate fully.

I was finding it hard to understand him, my head was all over the place, so I looked for a way to slow things down until my wits returned.

‘You got any I.D. sir? I asked as politely as I could manage.

‘I.D.?’ he spluttered ‘don’t you know just who the f**k I am, mister?’

‘No sir, that’s why I asked for ID.’

‘Are you being facetious?’ If I were an army officer I’d be ranked a two-star general you cheeky bastard.’

‘ Two-star generals carry I.D. sir’ I managed, but I was finding it difficult to remember why I’d asked the question in the first place. I was feeling mellow now, like nothing mattered.

He stared at me his mouth agape, he was clearly a man too used to getting his own way, then he fished around in his pocket and came up with a card. It could have been the pope’s gymnasium membership card for all I could see, or care. ‘fine I heard myself say ‘just fine mate.’

He calmed down a little then and became all business ‘I’m surprised your people didn’t have a senior official here to represent you.’

‘Not really important enough I suppose’ I told him.

His eyebrows shot into his hairline ‘Not important enough? Not important enough? Let me lighten your darkness mister. You entered the United States on a forged passport on a spying mission, you have burgled business premises, tortured and killed three non-US citizens one of which was a diplomat for Christ’s sake.’ He took a deep sighing breath ‘Do you realise the enormity of that? Have you any inkling of the embarrassment you caused us? Gadaffi is playing this to the hilt in the Arab world. The repercussions are huge.’

I didn’t give a toss about his embarrassment or his bloody repercussions either, I was floating now, nothing seemed important.

‘Had you simply shot them, you might have been able to claim self-defence, but to torture them first? To mutilate them in the horrible way that you did? I’ve seen the photographs, they were the worst I’ve ever seen. That puts the matter in an entirely different light, mister.’

He looked at me closely and sneered ‘not that you care, do you?’ He smirked and turned to his clerk ‘I think he’s ready now Feingold, give me the papers, I’ll get him to sign and we’re done here.’ He reached out his hand to the clerk. Turning back to me he said, ‘I am here to help you’ he changed tack now as his voice took on a smarmy note. ‘As you know, you could go to prison for life for what you did’ he paused and gave his insincere smile again. ‘If you co-operate and give me a full confession I can guarantee your sentence will be light in the circumstances.’

Even in my strange state of mind I didn’t trust this bastard, what the hell did “in the circumstances” mean? I’d do sixty years instead of ninety-nine? I couldn’t figure it out or what to do about it. Maybe it was best to go with the flow and be rid of him.

He put the papers in my hand. ‘I’ve drawn up a precis of the facts’ he told me ‘I’ll let you look them over now, then, if you will just initial each page and sign the last one?’

He handed them to me. I glanced at them briefly taking in some of the words. “willfully did murder, did apply torture contrary to their human rights” blah blah. Precis my arse, this was a full-blown confession, but what the hell, they had me didn’t they? What did it matter? I reached for the pen he was handing me and was about to sign when Nurse Browne burst into the room.

‘Stop Jack, do not sign anything.’

I looked at her amazed ‘Hi Tara baby, whassup?’

‘You’ve been drugged Jack, I saw Nurse Janek leaving here with a used needle on a tray, so I followed her. She wouldn’t tell me what she’d given you, so I snatched the hypodermic and gave it to security.’

Molesworth jumped in ‘really nurse, this is preposterous. You are holding up state business. Please leave at once.’

‘Like hell I will mister’ she said, a determined look on her gentle face ‘I ain’t moving.’

Molesworth changed tactics, trying to seem reasonable ‘I can appreciate your concern nurse and, indeed, if someone has administered a drug that would be a most serious matter. It would make any papers he signed invalid. If it sets your mind at rest, I will take this supposed drugged hypodermic with me and I’ll have it analysed.’

Tara scoffed, and ignoring him, turned to the door ‘Have you heard enough ladies?’

Sam and Harriet came in looking serious. Sam spoke first ‘Hi Mr Molesworth, I’m agent Samantha Gintz CIA and I believe you are attempting to pervert the course of justice.’ She produced her badge. ‘You’re in a lot of trouble mister.’

‘Nonsense agent, I am merely doing my job and interviewing a suspect prior to establishing if he has a case to answer or not.’

Harriet could contain herself no longer ‘Bollocks’ the word exploded from her mouth.

‘And who might you be?’ Molesworth asked.

‘I’m Major Harriet Balance of the British Army Intelligence Corps.’

‘Then you have no official status here madam, so why don’t you leave?’

‘She’s going nowhere mister and I suggest you listen carefully to what she has to say’ Sam said.

‘I’ll do no such thing’ he practically shouted, his face now crimson. Feingold stood shuffling his feet, his face was turned to the floor.

Harriet adopted a voice I’d only heard her use once before when she questioned me about Frank’s death. She stepped sharply forward, her face inches from his ‘Sit down and shut up’ she barked, her voice crackling with authority. The effect was amazing. His jaw dropped to the floor and he shook visibly as he plopped down in the chair, his face white.

‘What do you want? Why are you here?’ He stuttered.

‘I’m here to look after the interests of my colleague and to prevent the likes of you railroading him into jail just to save the faces of a few Washington types.’

‘You have no status here’ he said again, but without conviction.

‘OK, Mr Molesworth’ Harriet said ignoring him ‘It goes like this: Yes, our man came here on his own volition on a passport that was forged. He was officially on leave at the time. He came because arms and ammunition are pouring into our country from yours and none of you gives a damn. You have persistently refused to act, even after years of us asking. My own government is too spineless to put any real pressure on you and in the meantime soldiers, policemen and innocent civilians are dying every day on the streets of Northern Ireland.’

‘That’s not a legal argument’ he began.

‘I told you to shut up and listen’ she snapped.

His face flushed ‘I think I should leave now’ he said nervously.

‘If you do my version of this will be all over the world’s media this time tomorrow.’ she said. ‘and it will not look good for you or your government.’

He perked up a bit then, thinking he’d grab back the initiative ‘and just how do you propose to do that from here? Do you think we’d allow you a press conference?’ He was feeling more confident now. ‘And who would believe you, a foreigner against a well respected Whitehouse lawyer? I have the media contacts and the ear of important people in the Whitehouse, far more influence than you can imagine.’

Sam stepped forward and reached into her satchel. She produced a small tape recording machine and pressed the play button. The voice of Molesworth was heard clearly saying: “I think he’s ready now.” ‘We were in the next room mister, we have got the lot.’ She walked over the shelf above my bed and moved a book retrieving a small microphone. ‘We had an idea they’d send an asshole like you.’

‘That would never be admissible as evidence lady, and you know it. It was taken covertly whilst you were conniving with an agent of a foreign power, I’ll have your badge for this….’

Sam smiled at him ‘Allow me, to use your own words, Molesworth, to lighten your darkness. My friend Harriet here is not an agent of anyone. She is Lady Harriet Charlotte Margaret Bowes-Monksby-Balance, the favourite niece of the British Ambassador in Washington DC’ she smiled at him sweetly ‘As you are aware he’s a very popular man, just about the best-loved ambassador in the country. Not exactly without influence, I think you’ll find.’

Molesworth paled, his brow knit in a deep frown while he absorbed the implications of this, then he said to Harriet ‘Surely, as a military officer this would put you in trouble with your own people? Wouldn’t such information be covered by your own Official Secrets Act?’

‘Probably, but in England, the worst that could happen to me is a court-martial, a suspended sentence and a dishonourable discharge, loss of pension etc. More likely though, is that I’d be asked to resign my commission and go quietly. No fuss, no publicity. That’s infinitely better than Jack here rotting in one of your hell hole prisons for the rest of his life.’

‘But….’ he started.

‘No buts General, the tape is the property of myself and it will go nowhere near a courtroom. It is destined for the international press corps unless, of course, you want to listen to reason?

He looked at her horrified ‘you wouldn’t do that surely? The trouble caused would be immeasurable.’

Harriet didn’t answer him, instead, she said; This is the way it goes Molesworth: If done correctly, we both come out winners.’

He was listening now as he realised the full implications of what he’d been told. ‘Your CIA have been investigating connections between the Libyan government and international terrorism. You came upon a link between Gadaffi and organised crime right here in Boston. You had wind that of one of Gadaffi’s most notorious henchmen and fixers, one general Anwar, was unofficially visiting to conspire with O’Rourke’s criminal organisation to smuggle illegal arms. To use the bodies of dearly departed Irish Americans, wishing to be buried in the Old Country to smuggle these arms to terrorists. A terrible desecration and an insult to every Irish American in the land. The criminals subsequently fell out over missing payments. O’Rourke’s men then tortured and killed these men.

‘That sounds like a pretty tall story’ he said, ‘the media wouldn’t buy it.’

‘Oh, but they will’ she told him ‘you see there is proof a-plenty, or there will be later today. The Irish authorities have been informed of a shipment of arms due to be landed in the port of Limerick. In that ship, they will find the coffins of eight deceased Irish Americans due to be interred in Eire. Those corpses will be exercising the right of all American citizens to bear arms.’

His jaw dropped again ‘how the hell do you know all this? He queried.

‘I’m a spy General, remember?’ She went on ‘surely the CIA will have a lot of dirt on Anwar? The man has been torturing and thieving for years. As for Hanrahan, the Irish Guarda have been after him for ages, you could dig up the dirt on him, too. I know for a fact he murdered his wife.’

‘What about O’Rourke? He’s disappeared, no one knows where he is.’

‘Well, he’s a man with many enemies as well as friends. If you put a sufficient reward on him for information leading to his arrest, he’ll surface quick enough. He can be put on trial for Murder, illegal arms dealing, and anything else you dig up. His testimony of a lone British intelligence officer killing his co-conspirators will be ridiculed as the last throw of the dice of a desperate criminal. Like you said yourself Mr Molesworth, who the hell would believe a tale like that? The people at the Final Sunset Peace Parlour will be falling over their themselves to cop a plea, as you call it. They’ll say anything you damn well put to them.’

‘And where do you come into the equation?’ he wanted to know.

‘I don’t’ she said. ‘I have never been here. I could fly back tomorrow. Jack here could fly to RAF Mildenhall on one of your military transport planes as soon as he’s better and no one will be any the wiser. The CIA in the form of agent Gintz here will get the credit for her brilliant detective work, Gadaffi is shown up to be a supporter of international terrorism and everyone is happy, except Gadaffi of course. You, Molesworth, can claim the credit among your circle for coming up with this solution.’

And what about the info on that tape? Surely you’ll not go to press with such a story?’

‘Not if you stick to the script and don’t try any of your smart-arsed lawyer tricks.’ she told him.

Molesworth stared at her for a long time, he was working on the pro’s and con’s ‘OK, Lady Harriet, you gotta deal’ he said at last. He left then without another word. Feingold gathered up the papers and, stuffing them in the attaché case, trotted after his boss.

‘How come you are all here?’ I asked, beginning to feel just a little better.

‘Simple’ said Sam ‘I was deeply suspicious when I heard from Tara here that a man was coming from Washington today to interview you and that no arrangements had been made to get you a lawyer, Jack. That you were also drugged beggar’s belief’ she said looking angry ‘I should have arrested that bastard Molesworth for attempting to pervert the course of justice.’

I looked at Sam with deep respect as I realised in my slow moving brain that she had again taken an enormous risk by working unofficially on this. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart and asked her ‘why take such a huge risk with your career just for me?’

She blushed, ‘because I hate these slimy political types bending the law for their own convenience. My job is to uphold the law not to let anyone, no matter how important, to think they can get away with s**t like that.’ She smiled warmly at me ‘and because I like you, because Harriet likes you, and I’d do anything for her.’

Before they left Harriet bent over me and said, ‘dear Jack, you’ve had it rough today, get some rest now and leave thing’s to us.’

Her closeness was like sweet torture, an electric field seemed to flow from her and then she smiled and brushed my cheek again with her luscious lips. It may have been the drugs in my system, but a huge jolt passed through me, head, heart, balls and down to my toes like a bolt of enlightenment. I knew then that I was deeply, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.

They left me then, and the strain of trying to keep up with things whilst full of barbiturates finally took its toll and I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke many hours later with Sam at my bedside, it was dark outside and it took me a moment to remember where I was and what had happened. ‘Hi, Sam, what are you doing here?’

‘Hi yourself’ she smiled, ‘Dr Abrams will say you’re not fit to fly for at least a couple of days, or at least he will when I ask him.’ She stroked my crotch ‘You’ll need to see if this still works’ she cooed.

As she fondled me I already knew the answer to that.

Then she stopped teasing and said, ‘There’s something on the news you might like to see Jack.’ She switched the TV on and was just in time to catch dramatic footage of a ship being stopped and boarded by the Irish Coastguard.

The Irish government wanted desperately to show the world they were hard on terrorism. The RTE news crew aboard the Coastguard vessel filmed the arrest from start to finish and from several angles. The freighter duly added to the drama by refusing to stop when ordered. The Coastguard fired their Oerlikon, sending up a great curtain of water as her shells ripped into the sea yards from the freighter’s bow. She then pointed the weapon at the bridge and repeated the order to stop and be boarded. It was all over. The ship put her engines full astern and stopped. Pictures of the coffins in her hold were followed by them being landed and treated reverentially. Then came the pictures of the captured weapons and explosives. It made quite a story. Sam stroked my hair ‘Let’s see O’Rourke wriggle his way out of that’ she beamed, ‘you should get a medal.’

‘The last thing I want is a bloody medal’ I told her ‘medals have citations. Citations need explaining.’

She switched off the TV and kissed me, pushing her long lecherous tongue deep into my mouth ‘You need some R&R my boy’ she said, ‘I will ask Dr Abrams to release you into my custody for a couple of days.’

The American media made the most of the coup, heaping praise on the CIA for brilliant detective work, Sam got high praise for following her instinct to raid O’Rourke’s house. The vilifying of Gadaffi seemed to go on forever. Dirt on Anwar and Saeed was easily come by. There were interviews with exiled Libyans who told tales of torture and r**e. That Anwar had lived under Gadaffi’s protection further damned him.

O’Rourke gave himself up when he heard of the reward put out for him. He feared bounty hunters chasing him down, some of those people were none-too-gentle types who held a grudge against him. He had been hiding in the Caribbean under an assumed name, he’d fled the country when Anwar took over his house. He had no stomach for torture and pleaded ignorance of the whole affair.

Now the CIA had probable cause, they were able to obtain search warrants to go over his businesses with a fine tooth comb. It wasn’t long before they found secret bank accounts and other incriminating material linking him to drug smuggling, extortion, prostitution and illegal gambling. O’Rourke was royally stuffed. Although it would be many months before he was sentenced, I was satisfied he’d do a very long stretch indeed.

A thing that had puzzled me for a while was just what the hell the bill would come to for all the skin grafts to my feet and the rest of the care I’d received? I asked nurse Tara who was paying my bill. She told me that some guy called Brigadier McCormack in the UK, and Major Harriet Balance were paying half each, everything from the time Sam had called an ambulance for me until now had been met by them.

My heart sank. It would have cost thousands. Harriet hadn’t mentioned she was paying half. Typical of her. I now knew she came from a wealthy family, but I got the impression she wasn’t personally rich. Maybe she would be one day when she inherited, but for now, she relied on her army pay. Brigadier McCormack wasn’t wealthy either, according to Harriet. The UK Government wouldn’t help to pay as they had denied me. The Army certainly wouldn’t. Those Civil Service bean counters in Whitehall would never part with a penny on my behalf.

I determined to leave the hospital as soon as possible, I couldn’t countenance malingering here whilst the Brigadier and Harriet suffered financially. I rang Sam ‘Is the offer to stay at yours for a few days still open Sam?

‘You bet’ came her enthusiastic answer. She rang Dr Abram to let him know I’d be looked after. I nagged him, too, and he reluctantly agreed. The skin grafts on my feet were healing well now, but I was given a dire warning of what would happen if I didn’t change the dressings when told and I had to use elbow crutches to keep the weight off my feet as much as possible.’ Don’t worry doctor’ Sam had told him with a wink ‘I’ll make sure he gets plenty of bed rest.’

As Sam and I were leaving the hospital we had to walk past the almoner’s office. A sudden idea had come to me. I asked to see her and was shown into her office once I said there was an anomaly on my bill.

Mrs Elenore Sanchez was a plump, pleasant woman in her late thirties with an air of efficiency about her. ‘How can I help you, sir?’ She asked.

‘There’s an item on my bill I’d like to query’ I said politely. The bill was promptly produced and handed to me.

I looked at it and was speechless for a few seconds, twenty-five thousand dollars. Ye gods, this would break McCormack and would doubtless stretch Harriet, too. I looked up at Sanchez ‘Ah, I was right’ I said.

She looked puzzled ‘Can you point it out please?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I was given an injection of the barbiturate Thiopental, I believe, and it isn’t listed here.’

She flushed ‘That was a mistake by one of our staff sir, you should not have been given it so there’s no charge, anyway, your bill has been paid in full so what’s the problem?’

Nice try, I thought but I wasn’t about to let her off the hook, after all, I was now an experienced negotiator.

‘The problem is that I was given that drug deliberately by a member of your staff who was not assigned to look after me. That my nurse, Tara Browne, was sent on a wild goose chase so that nurse Janek could gain access to me causes me great consternation.’

She looked worried now ‘What do you propose to do about it? she asked, ‘If you could prove it, that is?’ She wasn’t being nasty; the woman was simply doing her job.

‘I’ve retained the needle used’ I said, ‘traces of the drug will be found when analysed, along with that nurse’s fingerprints. I also have witnesses.’

She looked down at her desk for a long time then asked, ‘Is it your intention to sue? We will defend vigorously you know, and I think you’ll find that suing is very expensive.’

I produced the untraceable credit card I was issued ‘There is a twenty-thousand-dollar limit on this card and it’s intact. Your bill is twenty-five thousand. If you give me a five grand discount for my suffering and distress I will pay the rest with this, you can then refund Brigadier McCormack and Major Balance in full.’

She looked puzzled, but relief was beginning to show on her face ‘is that all you want?’ She asked uncertainly.

‘Not quite’ I said, ‘I want that nurse fired.’

Sanchez nodded ‘she’s already gone, resigned without notice to avoid criminal charges. Do you want to prosecute her?’ She looked worried. ‘She’s a simple girl, Mr Salt, and a raving patriot. She didn’t do it for gain but out of a sense of patriotic duty once she’d been told you were an enemy of the USA by that lawyer.’

‘No, that’s fine’ I said, ‘let her go. Now, if you agree to my proposal I’ll sign a waiver, if not, I’ll use this credit card to instruct a lawyer.’ I looked as mean as I could manage, then I shut up to let the silence and tension build.

It didn’t take long. She rang the credit card company to confirm the limit and that it would be paid, then she typed out a waiver. I signed the credit card slip and then the waiver, the reduced bill was then given to me. The full amount would be refunded to the Brigadier and to Harriet.

‘I’ll get right on with the refund’ she said, sounding relieved. She locked the waiver away in her safe and said, ‘This is very reasonable of you sir, you could have sued and gotten possibly half a million dollars.’

‘I have my reasons’ I told her. I winked at her and left, my heart rejoicing. Those penny pinching, bean counting, bastards in Whitehall would have to pay up and there was f**k-all they could do about it. Their piss would be boiled big time.

Sam had waited for me in the foyer ‘Gee Jack, what have you been up to? You look like the cat that got the canary.’ When I told her, she laughed with joy for me, her beautiful eyes radiating her pleasure. ‘Hell Jack, it doesn’t pay to f**k with you. God, I’m glad you’re on our side.’

I laughed, for once enjoying the flattery.

She drove us to her place cussing the traffic with choice expletives all the way. I asked her if cussing helped and she said it relieved her stress.

Her apartment was small, neat and very modern and overlooked a park with dogs and kids frolicking in the late afternoon sunlight. There was a young couple sitting under a shady tree, oblivious to everything and everyone except each other. Sam came up behind me handing a Bushmills with loads of ice. ‘She looked out over the park at the young couple and smiled ‘sweet’ she said then took a sip of her drink running her tongue provocatively around the rim of her glass, whilst gazing into my eyes. I smiled and placed my free hand on the back of her neck kneading gently. Her head swung from side to side ‘Oh, that feels so good baby, c’mon’ she crooned ‘let’s do this properly’ she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We set upon one another almost immediately, kissing and grabbing, frenziedly dragging each other’s clothes off. Her body was magnificent, her ebony skin was silky smooth, her breasts large and firm. She Oh’d and ah’d as I stroked them lightly. She raked my buttocks teasingly with her fingernails, sending shivers of delight through me.

Her neck was her main erogenous zone. I sucked, nibbled, stroked and kneaded. She went wild reaching for me, whispering my name and groaning. Her legs spread of their own accord and she ran wet, her loins gyrating sensuously.

She was biting my bottom lip now and dragging me on to satisfy her hunger. She was like a wild thing emitting little yelps that gradually built in volume as she thrust upwards to meet me.

It didn’t take long for either of us, two hungry souls with but one aim. My legs were wobbling when she finally let me out of bed and into the shower. I sat in the tray with my feet outside covered in plastic bags at her insistence to keep my bandages dry while she soaped me up and rubbed me down.

As the days passed Sam told me more about her and Harriet’s days in Oxford. ‘There was one young professor playing hard to get, bless him. Harriet found him a real challenge. I think he’s the only man she has been totally besotted with. Well, the guy was supermodel standard for looks and sun bright for brains. His lectures were always well attended. It took her almost a year of laying subtle traps before she bedded him.’

‘Blimey,’ I said, ‘was he gay?’

She laughed ‘no, but every red-blooded woman on campus was practically was throwing her drawers at him. He’d just been dumped by an up and coming actress who thought she could do better without him. He was devastated.’ Then Sam turned serious ‘You’re in love with Harriet, aren’t you?’

‘God, does it show then?’ I asked surprised ‘I’ve no chance with her anyway, there are too many barriers between us so there’s no point in hoping.’ I said wondering how this preceptive girl figured out my secret.

Sam laughed, ‘I’ve been watching you when she’s around’ she said, ‘your eyes follow her everywhere she goes, and your face looks as gentle as it’s possible for a guy like you to look.’

I was devastated ‘Oh, god Sam, do you think she knows?’ I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

Sam smiled and rubbed my hair then sprayed it clear of shampoo, ‘silly man, of course she knows, but she’d never embarrass you by mentioning it.’ I wanted to curl up and die.

‘So, what happened when you’d finished at Uni?’ I asked, desperate to change the subject, ‘have you been in touch ever since?’

‘Apart from her gap year when she dropped out of sight for the whole year. Sam said 'I came back to the States and she stayed in Oxford bonking Peter the professor’s brains out. She moved in with him after graduating but it didn’t work out. The actress turned up again and Harriet got dumped for the first time in her life.’

I stayed silent absorbing this information. On the one hand, Harriet was studying hard as a result of her father’s murder but on the other Cupid had shot her and she was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Then I became aware that Sam was talking again ‘Anyway, enough about Harriet, here I am, sexy Sam, at your service.’ She reached out and started stroking me, boy did I get serviced!