Carrick Roads: The Mission

patience

Prologue

Pogradec, Albania - August 2011

Matthew (Matt) Jensen paced about the room tugging his hair and muttering to himself. Stopping, he turned to Vasil Alin. We should have heard from Anna and Pashka by now?

Vasil raised his eyebrows, opened his arms and shrugged his shoulders.  Let’s hope she gets the photos, without being discovered.  I wouldn’t worry too much Matt, Pashka is with her, she’s very experienced and will look after her.

Matt stared back at Vasil, his eyes flicking from left to right.  Perhaps, but it’s been five hours since Anna should have reported in. I can’t help feeling it’s all gone wrong! I’ll give it another hour; then I am going out there.

That is not a good idea Matt.

I know, but they may be in serious trouble and need help?

* * *

Well!  We’ve heard nothing.  Are you coming out there with me?

Okay, but we’ll need to be careful, it’s difficult to approach the Villa without being seen.  Only cover is a from a forest on its eastern side.

They drove out of Pogradec and took the twisty hillside road up to the village of Trebinjë.

After going through the village, Vasil looked over at Matt. Go down that overgrown gravel track, ahead on the left, and turn your lights off, the track runs along the edge of the forest.

Turning his lights off, he drives slowly down the track.

Okay, pull into the trees here, we continue on foot.

Matt eases the car in between the bushes, stopping in a concealed clearing.

He takes out the interior light bulb.

What are you doing Matt?

Not a good idea for a light coming on as we open the doors, any guards patrolling in the forest could see it.  I’ll also lock the car with the key, using the remote will trigger the orange flashing lights, and alert any guards in the area to our presence.

Where did you learn those sneaky tricks?

You pick up a few life-saving tips in my line of business he sniggered. He reached over to the back seat and handed Vasil a set of night vision glasses.

Vasil looked at them puzzled, turning the glasses upside down.

Matt, laughed. Just put them on your head and adjust the straps.  Pull the lens down over your eyes–they’re on a hinged coupling.

Whoa!  I can see as if it's daylight.

Matt laughed. Just push the lens up, whenever you need to.

Which way Vasil?

Looking at his small pocket compass. Let’s see now. Pointing into the tree line. Okay, We go in this direction for the Villa’s perimeter security fence.

Is this fence electrified or have any motion sensors?

We are assured it doesn’t, apart from armed guards patrolling inside the perimeter fence, and sometimes they walk around in the forest.  So we need to be cautious.

Your assured it’s not electrified! Said Matt mockingly.

Vasil, shrugged, one way to find out for sure.

Wearing their night vision glasses, they crept silently into the forest, taking care not to step on and snap any twigs. The outer edge of the forest was about seventy metres away from the Villa’s security fence.  They worked their way stealthily through the trees.

Matt suddenly stopped and froze, he detected the tell-tale scent of burning tobacco wafting through the trees. Quickly turning to Vasil, he held his finger to his lips, signalling him to stay quiet.  He pointed to a small red glow and puffs of white smoke twisting upwards into the darkness, about twenty metres away.

Matt, lifted his night vision lens up and slid out his Glock G19 compact gun, retrieving his silencer from his inside pocket, he screwed it onto the threaded barrel.  Raising and extending his arms, he aimed the weapon at the guard through the trees and slid off the three safeties. Eyeing his target through the modular optic scope, he gradually squeezed the trigger.  He smirked as he saw the guard’s knees fold, sending him crumbling down onto the forest floor.

Hey! Vasil exclaimed that was some shot!

Matt lowered his night vision glasses back down and scanned through the trees again. He suddenly stiffened, another guard was ambling down a trail toward them.  Gesturing to Vasil, they crouched down behind a dense undergrowth of bushes.

Matt shot a glance at Vasil, who nodded back, nervously.

They could see him sauntering down a well-worn woodland trail carrying a Czech made CZ2000 light machine gun.  As he passed by, Matt stepped out from behind the bushes and deliberately rustled the leaves.

The guard halted and spun round to look behind.  Too late, Matt squeezed off a shot, seeing a crimson red hole appear on the guard’s forehead, as he fell backwards collapsing across the gnarled roots of an old beech tree.

Matt, beckoned to Vasil, let’s go, he whispered.

This is risky Matt; there’s likely to be more guards in the grounds.  Let’s wait, I’ll call my people for backup.

No time, we must find Anna and Pashka. He lifted his night vision glasses up and rummaged around in his rucksack for his Zeiss 10x25 Victory binoculars.  He raised them up to his eyes and scanned the grounds for signs of guards or roaming dogs.  Seeing nothing, He zoomed in toward the Villa. That’s strange, he whispered!

Vasil, rubbed the back of his neck, what’s strange?

Well, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. Villa’s in darkness, no sign of life there either?

We’re going in, lets cut through this fence.

Vasil puffed out his cheeks and sighed. Well, I imagine we all have to die sometime, why wait!

They moved warily across the lawn, staying alert for any signs of movement or noise, half-expecting shots to ring out at any moment. However, nothing happened.

Puzzling eh! Vasil, looks like no one is home.  No security guards around, no lights on, no dogs barking, no cars on the drive, nothing, just an eerie baffling silence?

Maybe they’re hiding somewhere just waiting for idiots like us to come to the rescue.

You may be right Vasil, but, we are now only a few metres from the Villa, and no one has opened fire?

I’ll check the Villa. You go and look in those outbuildings over there.  Any problems fire a shot.

Oh! And what if the shot is not from me, but someone shooting at me!

Matt smiled, rolling his eyes, go on, but, keep alert.

Vasil looked down at his Glock compact gun clutched in his left hand. Biting his lip, he started walking cautiously toward the first outbuilding.

Matt, placed his ear against the front door listening for any sounds within. Hearing nothing he tried the door handle, to his surprise found it unlocked.  With his night vision glasses still down, he scanned the hallway, seeing several doors leading off into other rooms.  Holding his breath, he ventured down the hall. Pausing often, listening for any sounds. Hearing nothing, he moved toward a large room on the left. It turned out to be a spacious lounge filled with antique furniture and exquisite fine art pictures.  Checking through the other rooms, they were all in darkness and deserted.  He pushed his night vision glasses back up and started making his way back along the hallway when he was abruptly startled by Vasil shouting out his name.

Finding Vasil standing outside, on the driveway, he noticed tears streaming down his face.

What is it Vasil?  What’s wrong?

I’ve found Anna! He said tearfully, struggling to find his breath. She’s in that old wooden outbuilding over there.  Matt, she’s dead!

Matt’s hands tightened into fists. His breath quickened as he ran over and pushed the heavy wooden door open. He gasped, not believing what his eyes were seeing.  No!  No!  Please God, No!

There in the semi-darkness, Anna’s lifeless body lay slumped. Her arms and legs lashed to a large black metal chair bolted to the floor.  His heart plunged into an abyss with an aching constriction inside his chest. With tears running down his cheeks he stared in horror at Anna’s half-naked body covered in blood. There were multiple burn mark all across her chest and abdomen, open gashes on her legs and arms with congealed blood oozing out.  The burn marks looked like a blowtorch had inflicted them.

Matt was about to take the straps off Anna’s arms and legs when he noticed a heavy red cable connected to the back of the metal chair legs.  On seeing the thick black rubber pads inserted between the base of each metal chair leg and concrete floor, he stiffened, what’s this?

He followed the cable as it snaked across the concrete floor toward a darkened area at the back of the outbuilding.  Hidden behind a folded screen, he found it was attached to a 415-volt high voltage electrical supply.  The bastards, he muttered to himself. They’ve set a lethal booby trap. He now realised why the rubber pads were there. They were insulating the chair preventing the high-voltage electrical current from making an earth circuit with the concrete floor. He blew out his cheeks, realising, if he’d touched that bloody metal chair or, Anna, he would have earthed the electrical current and now been toast. He thrust the main power switch off to isolate the supply and, wrenched the cable away from the switchgear unit.

Hearing a noise behind him, Matt promptly spun round, with gun in hand, only to see Vasil standing in the doorway, with tears still running down his cheeks.

Where’s Pashka? He whimpered.

Matt strode back toward the chair to untie Anna; I don’t know Vasil - she wasn’t in the Villa, it's empty. As he bent down to release Anna from her death chair, he spotted a thin copper wire embedded deep into her neck!  My God!  The bastards garrotted her as well, he said out loud.

They cautiously searched through the other outbuildings and surrounding grounds, but, Pashka was nowhere to be found.

Let’s get out of here Vasil.

Matt lifted Anna’s broken body onto his shoulder and they made their way back through the forest to their car.

* * *

I’m sorry Matt, but they have recalled you back to London.

John. I need more time to find these bastards who tortured and killed Anna, I should have protected her! We never found Pashka either. Vasil needs our help to find out what’s happened to her?

We understand how you must feel.  No one here is blaming you for what happened. As far as Pashka is concerned. Vasil has his own people to help him. Sorry Matt, but David Pleshey wants you back in London tomorrow. You’re booked on the 11:20 BA flight to London Gatwick, pick up your ticket from the British Airways Check-in area, in Tirana International Airport.  Our driver will meet you at Gatwick and drive you here to Millbank for your meeting with David, at 4 pm.

John, listen to me! However, John had already hung up.

After collecting his air ticket, checking in, and passing through immigration and security, he headed for the business lounge. Getting a double espresso from the self-service coffee machine, he sank down into one of the plush leather armchairs and keyed a text to his wife, Katherine.

Hi, darling just to let you know I’ll be back in England tomorrow and expect to get home early evening.  I’ll get the train from Euston up to Rugby and then take a taxi home.  Lu x.

*  *  *

Matt pushed open his front door, turned on the hall light and dropped his laptop bag and suitcase down on the floor.

Hi darling, he called out, I’m home. But, no one answered!  Odd? Thought Matt, no lights on either?

Matt strolled into his lounge, flicked on the light switch and spotted a note, with his name on, propped up on the mantelpiece.

Matt, I have moved out, and James has come with me.  My solicitor will be in touch as I am divorcing you.

Matt flopped down into his favourite burnt red leather armchair, running his hand through his hair, staring down at her note, shocked, his world spinning. Despair swept over him. what a failure! Got my field partner tortured and killed, now my wife and son have left me.  He screwed up the note, tossed it across the room and reached for his bottle of Remy Martin XO brandy.  Bollocks to it.

Chapter 1

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.