CHOGM Pt. 01

"I guess you can be trusted, but if we find that you have done the dirty on us we will not be too pleased and when we are not pleased we have a nasty way of showing it. The car we saw, the silver Rover stopped on the road outside Jane's place and the driver was watching the house through some binocular things, he stayed there for about five minutes and then drove back towards London. Jim here thought he heard something around two in the morning, or at least his dogs heard something, because they were growling at something."

"How far does Jim live from Jane's place?"

"Just over the hill, not more than a couple of hundred yards."

"It wouldn't have been a fox or something like that would it?"

"No. At foxes they bark, at men they growl."

"You didn't investigate?"

"No. I don't get out of bed unless I hears someone comin' through the window."

"Did you hear anything else?"

"I thought I heard a car drive past my house."

"About what time was this?"

"I'd say it was about three in the morning."

"But you're not sure."

"Well, I looked at my alarm clock and the hand was pointing to the four so I knew that it was about three."

"The hand pointed to four so you knew it was about three?"

"Yes. You see the clock was broken and I fixed it, but I lost the minute hand and when I pushed the hour hand back on it was in the wrong place. I just haven't got around to changing it."

"So, a car drove away about three. What was the next thing you remember?"

"I was out in the fields caring for my sheep when I heard a loud bang coming from over the hill so I dropped everything and raced over. I saw the house on fire and the hole in the ground where the car once was."

"I understand that you two were talking to Jane and Jamieson the night before, was there anything about them that struck you as unusual?"

"No. They just seemed like any other young couple in love."

"In love?"

"Oooh yes. They looked at each other all the time. And she was holding his hand every chance she got. We were all happy for her because he looked like a nice enough chap and he was obviously as much in love with her as she was with him."

"But they only met the day before yesterday."

"It doesn't take long to fall in love. Why me and my Beryl knew the moment our eyes met that we would be wed one day."

"Did they do anything yesterday that could be seen as unusual?"

"The only thing they did was to buy some provisions and post a couple of letters."

"Did you mention that to the policeman that was here earlier?"

"No I did not. I knows when to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't going to mention that to someone who could have been involved in it all along."

"So you feel that this person had something to do with it?"

"Yes. And you sound as if you're not too surprised about that. I bet you have a good idea who's involved."

"I suppose you could say that I have a fair idea who is calling the shots and who is jumping to the call. I can't say too much, but I don't like it at all."

"What can we do down here to help?"

"Just keep out of it but if you would let me know if anyone else is snooping around, you can ring me on this number," He took a card from his pocket on which he wrote his home number, "If I'm not at home you can leave a message with my wife. Remember, don't do anything that will get you hurt, these chaps are playing for keeps."

Roberts left the hotel and drove back to London. As he pulled onto the motorway he noticed a car behind him that he was sure had been following him ever since he had left the village. He accelerated until he was speeding along at 80mph but still the car was trailing about a hundred yards behind. He slowed down to a more respectable 60mph only to see the other car slow down as well. He took the papers from his jacket pocket and, reaching under his seat he jammed them into the seat webbing where he was sure that a cursory search would not find them.

The motorway was winding through some deserted countryside when he noticed the other car start to move up on him. He put his foot down hoping to outrun the other car but realised as soon as his car was at full stretch that the other car was more powerful. After a mile or so it loomed up along side of him and he glanced over to see if he could get a glimpse of the driver, but the other car had a dark tinting on the side windows that effectively shielded the driver or any passengers from view.

The car was a black Mark 10 Jaguar, low and powerful. As Roberts watched the driver adjusted his speed to match the Morris. The cars entered a long sweeping bend and Roberts took his eyes away from the Jaguar to concentrate on the road ahead. As the two cars reached the apex of the corner the Jaguar swerved onto the Morris sending it careening off the road and down the embankment.

Roberts fought the wheel with all his strength but realised that his efforts were going to be of no avail. The Morris rolled several times and came to rest on its roof at the bottom of the embankment, Roberts, unconscious and lying on the inside of the roof, one shattered arm hanging out the driver's door.

Two men walked up to the wreck and dragged him free. While one of them went through the motions of checking to see if he was alive, the other went through his pockets. "Not a bloody thing worthwhile here. I was sure that he took something out of the house."

They both started to search the car and would have been more thorough had not another car pulled up. "Everything all right here?" The driver asked.

"This chap is unconscious, could you go down the road and call for the police and ambulance?"

"I am a doctor, I think I should have a look at him. I suggest that you should ring for the police while I take care of him."

"All right." Said the larger of the two men. They walked back to the Jaguar and drove off.

Roberts started to come round just after they left. "Just lay still. I'll splint that arm of yours while we're waiting for the ambulance. Then I'll give you an injection to kill the pain."

"Was there anyone here when you arrived?"

"Yes, there were two men here."

"Were they in a black Mark 10 Jaguar?"

"Why yes they were, why?"

"I think you had better flag down the next car and get them to fetch the ambulance, you see those men ran me off the road. Before you go could you do something for me?"

"Yes."

"I am a police officer working on a case, you can check my ID if you like, inside the car, under the driver's seat are some papers, would you get them for me?"

The doctor walked over to the Morris and felt around until he found the papers. He pulled them free of the seat and looked quickly at them before putting them inside his own jacket. "What are you doing with them?" Roberts asked.

"Don't worry about things, I'm on your side. Jamieson rang me yesterday before he came down and said that if anything happened to him you had instructions as to what to do, and that I was to follow you to make sure that you weren't prevented from doing what he asked. Apart from being a member of MI6 I really am a doctor. The name's Carrington, Jeremy Carrington." He took out his wallet and showed Roberts his driver's license, "We seem to be in the middle of something big."

"I can't say that I'm all that pleased to meet you but I am glad you came along when you did."

"Excuse me a moment will you," Carrington ran down to the edge of the road and hailed a car that was passing. He arranged for the driver to contact the police and ambulance.

When he came back he sat down on the grass beside Roberts, "Do you know what is happening here?"

"From what I can work out there is an organised network of people working at the US Embassy who are bringing drugs into this country in diplomatic luggage. This seems to be one of several countries in which they are operating and they are making an awful lot of money doing it. I don't know why, and I'm not about to ask."

"In simple terms you are right. What is in these papers is a breakdown of the whole network from the time the drug crop is harvested in Cambodia and Laos to the time it reaches England. This is political dynamite on an international level and the repercussions for both our government and that of the US are enormous."

"Don't our people know about this?"

"Yes they do but they are under instructions not to ask too many questions."

"It all seems too sordid for my Constable Plod brain to absorb. How can two supposedly civilized governments sit back and allow this to happen? Don't they have any conscience?"

"When you're talking the kind of money that we are here you find that the powers that be suddenly lose any conscience that they once had."

An ambulance arrived and Roberts was placed onto a stretcher and lifted into the back. "Can you make sure that my car is taken care of? It means a lot to me."

"Leave it all to me, I'll get in touch with you and let you know what happens to it." The ambulance drove off as a police car and tow truck arrived on the scene. Carrington arranged for the car to be taken to the local garage and asked the driver to store it until he was given further instructions.

"Can you tell me what happened here?" The policeman asked.

"Well not exactly. I came along and found this car on its roof and the driver crawling out of it, he didn't seem to know what had happened."

"There was no other car in the vicinity?"

"No, at least not that I saw."

"And you say the driver didn't seem to know what happened, he didn't mention another car at all?"

"No. I had a look down by the road and it seemed as if he ran off the side of the road and just rolled over when he swerved to get back on to it."

"I think we'll get some experts out to have a look to see if we can piece this together. It doesn't seem possible for a car to roll over on this stretch of road."

"Maybe he had been driving for some time and went to sleep."

"It's a possibility that we can't discount yet. Where can I contact you in case we need more information?"

"My name is Cartwright and I work for Major Preston as his stable manager, you can contact me at Manor Farm any time. Here is my phone number." He took from his wallet a business card that identified him as a racehorse trainer at Manor Farm.

"Very good. How is the Major? I heard that he had been out to visit his businesses in Hong Kong and had been taken ill with one of those oriental diseases."

"He's alright now but it was touch and go for a while. I'll let him know you asked about him when he gets back next month, what did you say your name was?"

"Smithson, PC Smithson."

"I really must be getting on. Don't forget, if you need anything just call me."

"Very good Sir."

Carrington/Cartwright got into his car and drove off in the direction of London. Just around the corner from the scene he turned into a secondary road that skirted a small wood and, by taking a series of small lanes he soon found himself driving up a long driveway to a large house set well back and shielded by trees from the road.

As his car pulled up in front of the house a tall, thin man wearing the tweed jacket and corduroy trousers of the country squire came out of the front door. "Well?"

"All taken care of. We won't have any trouble from that quarter again. I can't believe the trouble that Symonds caused when he alerted his sister to those papers, but here they are now. "He took the papers from his jacket and passed them to the other man."

"Damn!"

"What's wrong now?"

"These are not the originals. A good copy yes, but definitely not the originals."

"What do we do now?"

"We retrace the movements of everyone connected to this until we find out what has happened to the originals. Now, we know that Symonds' girlfriend sent the papers to his sister and that she had them stashed in the cottage somewhere. We searched the place from top to bottom without success but when she appeared on the scene with the copper we knew that she was probably going to show them to him. They went into the village for supplies and a drink before returning to an evening that neither of them would have forgotten for some time if we hadn't had them disposed of. We again searched the cottage without success but were sure that he had made some contact with an associate who would lead us to them."

"We intercepted that person on his way back to London and relieved him of the papers before he could deliver them. At no time did he have the opportunity to copy them so there must have been another copy somewhere else, but where?"

"I wonder if she has them stored in a bank vault somewhere."

"A strong possibility. I want you to check around and see if you can find out if she had a Safe Deposit box at any bank, and if she or anyone else has accessed it over the last few days."

"OK. What has happened to that other policeman?"

"I have arranged for him to be dead on arrival at the hospital. It seems that he suffered a severe neck injury that didn't show up in the initial examination by the ambulance men."

"Won't someone get suspicious about two policemen, and partners at that, both dying within a day of each other in separate `incidents'."

"People are being paid very good money to discourage such thoughts."

Carrington/Cartwright left and drove, again by a circuitous route back towards the motorway and London.

4

Paris March 20th 1969:

"Gentlemen, I must apologise for the haste in calling this meeting but happenings over the last couple of days have brought the matter to a head. We have had four drug related murders in England in the last week."

"Nothing new about that." The speaker was an American with all the trappings of a Hollywood spy, dark suit, snap brimmed hat, dark rimmed glasses and a cynical attitude.

"As you observe nothing unusual about that." The Director of Interpol was a small man with close cropped grey hair and a permanently sad face. "Except, except that two of the victims were policemen who were investigating the first. They were killed in separate incidents using different methods and an attempt has been made to conceal the facts."

"What has that to do with Interpol?"

"When taken in context of similar happenings in Holland, France and Australia, a lot. It appears as if a batch of adulterated hashish was shipped around the world and this has caused several marijuana users to find themselves dead. When police have managed to get too close, they have been either bought off or eliminated. So you see gentlemen, it has become a matter for Interpol and the various intelligence agencies throughout the World."

"Do we know who is behind the movement of these drugs?"

"Yes. The drugs have originated in South East Asia. They have been processed in plants run by this organisation, transported to a central warehousing facility in planes flown by the same organisation and distributed by a network of couriers employed by the government of the country that has set up this organisation."

"Who is this amazing organisation?" The American asked.

"It seems amusing that that question should come from you. It is the CIA."

There was a general buzz of amazement around the room as the representatives of the various Police and security forces from around the world digested the statement.

"We have been aware for some time that US troops have been used to transfer drugs around the world but have always been led to believe that it was a small scale operation that was earning a few unscrupulous people some extra money." The speaker's accent identified him as Australian.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing!" The American exclaimed.

A quiet clerk moved around the room distributing folders to each of them. "In the file that you have just had placed before you, you will find a complete, as far as we are aware, breakdown of the operation, how it is being financed, who is growing and supplying the drugs, who processes them and how they are distributed. Our task is to locate the most effective point in this operation at which we can strike to achieve the maximum impact with the minimum risk."

"Hey fellas, count me out. I could be had up for treason if my people in Washington ever found out that I was involved in an operation against my own people."

"So be it. In fact I was just about to ask you to withdraw from this meeting for just such a reason."

"Suits me fine."

"Before you go I am going to ask you to communicate with no-one, no mention will be made of any information that you have seen or heard here today. You can leave the files here when you leave if you don't mind."

As the American left the room one of the British representatives spoke up. "Where did this information come from?"

"One of our men who went 'missing in action' in Hong Kong apparently got wind of what was about to happen and had prepared a report to send back to London when he disappeared. It appears, after all these years that he had managed to get a copy to his sister in England who had it stored away for safe keeping in the fear that if she went to the authorities with it any chance she had of seeing her brother alive would vanish. She gave that information to a friend of hers in the Drug Squad who somehow managed, before both of them were blown to Kingdom come, to alert his partner who sent us the original before he was himself killed retrieving the copy."

"How and when do we act?"

"The 'how' we are about to make a major dent in the supply chain, the 'when' will that it's happening as we speak before our American friend has a chance to alert his superiors and have the pipeline closed down. Now let me explain the 'how' in more detail."

5

London, February 1st 1978:

The beauty of a white Christmas had degenerated into a grey and miserable January which in turn would be followed by what promised to be an equally grey and miserable February. London's grey pigeons huddled on grey ledges to escape the icy blast that brought with it the driving sleet that added to the grey slush on the streets. No-one in their right mind ventured abroad on such a day unless it was imperative.

A black beetle of a taxi sidled into the kerb and discharged a grey figure onto the footpath. Rugged up against the chill the figure dashed into the nearest doorway. The building was anonymous. It squatted like so many other anonymous buildings, shoulders hunched against the weather, protecting the few occupants that needed to be inside its cold confines.

"Jerry's here." The voice belonged to an anonymous man standing at an open window feeding a rather too well fed pigeon. The bird cooed its anger as the window clattered shut leaving it and the arctic atmosphere outside.

"About bloody time. Why don't you get central heating and double glazing in this refrigerator?"

"Because heating ducts are perfect places to conceal listening devices."

"God you're paranoid."

The door opened to admit Jerry into the room. He brushed the drops of rain from his coat onto the dark brown linoleum floor. "What's the panic?"

"Hello John, how are you? I'm fine thank you Jerry and how are you keeping?"

"All right, I was coming to the pleasantries just as soon as I got the blood moving in my fingers."

"Are you all finished?" The pigeon feeder sat down in a large leather chair behind a large leather topped desk on which was a pristine blotter, a desk set complete with gold pen and pencil and a leather bound daily and weekly planner. His chair was in stark contrast to the straight backed wooden chairs in which the other three men were forced to sit. These chairs served to accentuate the discomfort that they already felt.

There was a heater of sorts in the corner behind the desk. It was ancient and inefficient and for all the heat it put out it may just as well not be there. "I have brought you three here today because I have a job for you that requires your special talents."