PREFACE

Detective Chief Inspector Cox features in this book which he prompted me to write towards the end of his career before retirement. Readers may be aware of The Chief in other books including ‘Reluctant Mistake’. His forthright manner is very apparent once again, and though his appearances are somewhat spasmodic; his presence and direction prove to be important.

This story sees me finding a young love a little late in life, but fortune does not favour the circumstances as we battle to do the right thing when a dangerous world of espionage erupts around us.

I have to admit that the warnings were there from the start, but the cancerous nature of all things linked to spying apparently creep in before gathering pace. It was, however, my new found love who was already in the loop, yet she seemed innocent, if a bit naive. Would any of us have acted differently if confronted with such unimaginable threat that was to follow? Well you can judge for yourself.

Intervention comes from an unexpected quarter raising considerable difficulties far and wide for the Ukrainians as well as for Cox who is now with MI5; uncertainties are the constant consequences for us.

Hindsight would, in my mind, not have had me do it in any different way, even though I was completely out of my depth in the underworld of espionage, where telling lies are normal tools of the trade on both sides of the law. The only truths are violence and death that pursue us at every turn.

Endeavouring to keep out of harm’s way brings action, anxiety, and suspense throughout where the ending is as unlikely as the reason to relate the tale.

Chapter 1

I can clearly remember the time when it began to sink in that I was a millionaire. OK, pretty small-time as far as millionaires go, but I had been this rich for a straight seven years and in all that time it had never meant a darn thing. Perhaps it was because way back in the past I had scrambled over the line, so to speak, more than once – but had fallen back. It’s part of running your own company; one minute you’re winning, the next, the tide turns.

On this occasion however, I had sold the company and the comfortable realisation crept over me whilst I was leaning on the rails of a cruise liner as it left Southampton for the Red Sea. This time the money was safe and I wanted this holiday to spend time to enjoy planning the best way that I could make it last long enough to see me through for the rest of my life, and to do it all in style. At forty four I had the house of my dreams, a medium four wheel drive for daily use, a Bentley for special occasions, and a great classic car called a Jensen Interceptor – all paid for. Hell I had more than enough stashed away, tax paid and no ties.

“So what” You might think. Well, I can understand that, but it’s where this story kicks off. I was like a child let loose in the summer holidays with no one to tell me off. As you might guess, it was a recipe for trouble.

Being rich is not necessarily all what it’s cracked up to be for most millionaires. There’s the source of where the money comes from, the company, and the company demands an awful lot of time. Even so, most businesses behave like your own unpredictable teenager who is vulnerable to mood swings, but because you care and have high hopes, you never give up.

These same millionaires say that is the joy, their raison d’être. But that is only because they don’t have time to properly do anything else. I have to stop and qualify that declaration by saying that I am not including billionaires here, I really can’t speak for them – I don’t know any.

But for the majority of the very well off, they suffer with anything from bloated egos to ulcerated stomachs. Their playtime might be golf, where their need to win usually gets in the way of the enjoyment which it is supposed to be. It’s great when they’re winning, but on an off day, the overwhelming desire to win gnaws at the ulcer.

The family holidays are often crammed with things to do, trying to make good the time that they’ve miss- spent working too hard. Oh yes, and there’s the so called ‘higher life’ which includes higher costs in schooling, nannies, a country retreat, high- end restaurants and just about every other cost in daily living. Yet so many of us dream of becoming multi-millionaires, whether we be professionals, builders, salesmen, managers, factory workers and so on; we think it gets us out of the rat race. Believe you me, there’s not a lot of difference on the enjoy-ometer between the vast bulk of ordinary working people and the big earners, including the folk with million pound homes that mummy and daddy funded in their generous wills; why do these people cling on to their precious suburban castles? Flog it off and get a decent life.

This then, is the perfect place to return to the cruise. My cleaning contract and supplies company was well and truly behind me and I was about to practice what I have just been preaching.

If you have managed to stop and reflect on my sermon, perhaps to ponder what you might do in the same circumstances, you would at some point realise that I have not managed to mention a business partner – tried it twice; it held me back until I resolved the issue. Also there’s nothing said about a wife or lover; that’s because I haven’t had one of the former for twenty two years, and I haven’t entertained the latter for more than six years, and then I more or less paid for it. Perhaps you are now feeling just a little bit sorry for me. You may well think that being alone would be boring and how much nicer to share the good times with someone you can love, or at least an occasional lover to enjoy a fling. Well, somewhere at the back of my mind I had half thought that maybe the cruise might just afford that opportunity. I will be totally honest and say that it even crossed my stupid, if not greedy, mind, that the ‘someone’ might be quite well-off and love me simply for what I was as a person, and not for my money, but that is sadly what folk with a few quid do.

An equal amount of people might just shout, “No! Don’t spoil it, for goodness sake stay free.”

I had no idea at this stage how things would turn out, but then again, I don’t think anyone in their wildest dreams could; for I was about to start a real roller coaster of highs and lows that would include life threatening situations beyond my control.

Southampton is probably at its best looking at it from the sea. I had been fortunate to get aboard the night before and so was already adjusting to the perspective that the ship offered her guests. Now that the last eager holiday makers were aboard, the enormous vessel, that would be our home for twenty one days, gently glided out to sea as majestically as a royal barge carrying her royal passengers. The disappearing coast line was dotted with some very wealthy looking homes, it was the last time that I would think deeply into what the super rich were up to; I was determined to stay different from them. I turned to take a look at my surroundings of where I was standing on deck nine, and was not disappointed one bit; the care bestowed upon the Cruise Ship was clearly evident, and my excitement grew. Three weeks seemed a good start to practice at having time to myself. I would be able to flit in and out of the other passenger’s lives. Also, ahead of me, there were a number of trips ashore including Petra and the Dead Sea.

I stepped towards one of the swimming pools on offer and looked across to the bar at the far end. Stewards were already politely smiling in expectant enthusiasm to ensure that everyone would be happy. These people were very special, they acted out their role so well that it was part of their true self, and wealth certainly had nothing to do with it. What they were like when they eventually got home was any ones guess, but I bet they were still smiling cos they didn’t stop once all the way through the cruise.

It was too early for a ‘drink’ drink, if you get my meaning, so I went for a second breakfast. The earlier mixture of cereals and some fruit had been digested, and some bacon seemed like a good idea. I got the feeling that the elastic waist banded trousers would be tested by the end of this holiday.

OK, I am not going to turn this book into a travel guide on cruising, but I can say that the cruise didn’t disappoint. Getting to know your way round the ship is best done as early on as possible because once alcohol is involved you could spend most of your three weeks trying to find your cabin. The ship is full of folk attempting to look nonchalant doing just that. They may as well have a sign hung round their necks saying “lost – please return me to …” Elderly ladies, it seems, do not need to imbibe in order to get lost, and are not afraid to ask directions right up to the very end, even as Southampton welcomes us back.

The first couple of days offered loads of time to get stuck into a good book, wander about, and generally relax. We were headed towards the Canaries for our first port of call, so it was pretty well ocean views all the way; glimpses of the Continent were only occasionally on the horizon.

It was on the fourth night that I decided to go for the ‘shared’ dining option where you are offered a table number and where other, usually couples, share the table with you. There is a menu and waiter service. For the first two nights I had used the self service option where there is an incredible choice of first class international cuisine; the third night I paid a small supplement and ate in high class themed restaurant, but I realised, whilst sitting on my own, that it was more for ‘special occasion’ couples.

I must have been a bit shy to begin with, I hadn’t felt like sitting with complete strangers and being quizzed about why I was there, let alone why I was by myself. I didn’t want to talk of my circumstances. I had done it just once at lunchtime and it must have come across as though I was bragging because it was counteracted with “how sad it must be to be on your own.” I managed to stop myself from saying “It’s far nicer than being in your company.” I had just one plate and went to another area and watched other people, who I must admit, all plainly showed that they were having a great time.

Learning from this, I went for the communal restaurant on the fourth night; no supplement is required; you choose your wine, and they store the bottle for when you are ready to continue with it, which for most folk would be over two nights.

So, having been guided across the restaurant by an extremely polite waiter, I found that I was to share a table with two other couples who had only just that minute met, yet they all smiled in a welcoming way. One couple were two ladies; they acted in almost an apologetic fashion as they politely introduced themselves. They were a mother and daughter who seemed pleasant enough, not gushing; a little shy in fact. However, I didn’t have time to worry about how I would fit in, bearing in mind that I was also a little shy standing there on my own, because two very outward going chaps made their grand introduction by blowing kisses to us all, individually. The round portly one threw in “Oh, so how come we’ve been thrown together for our meal? Don’t worry, it’s going to be just fine, it says so in the stars.” Adding, whilst pointing to his friend, “this is my partner Gary, he tells fortunes you know and he is very accurate – I’m Paul, by the way”

Well, the forecast was right; it was fine, even if it was all down to the pair of them providing the lively edge to the conversation. The slimmer Gary went on to qualify his trust in astronomy stating that the mother, who incidentally was initially looking a little taken aback, was on the cruise to help her daughter recover from some very recent relationship problems. For a second I thought we might well be off to a dodgy start, but somehow his outspoken manner was not offensive. He rapidly added that the cruise was perfect in bringing about a new direction that was going to be “Big, big, big.”
The last ‘big’ had hardly been uttered when he looked at me. It caused a laugh which he received like a professional entertainer. Then he paused and dropped his smile for a second; he gave me a second look and nodded in a kind of knowing way. “Yes indeed.”

He did a fleeting look back at the daughter and then back to me adding, “How lovely.”

By the time the cruise had finished I came to realise that this guy knew his stuff, but not at the time; the daughter was a good eighteen to twenty years younger than me. Any thoughts of love in the air might have possibly been anticipated regarding the mother and me, who was more my age. However, the hint of the early prediction went unnoticed by the daughter, but my heart skipped a beat for she had a beautiful demure countenance.

As I’ve already stated, this book is not going to be a travelogue. We stopped off at some great places, but they were for a day and whilst it’s great to get the flavour of a town or resort, it is only that; the point of a cruise is for most people – to cruise. The evening meals saw us five people enjoying each other’s company at the table. We chose to do this and it was certainly a highlight for me. The ‘boys’ entertained us with their take on life and bit by bit we each drip fed a certain amount of information about ourselves. The mother‘s name was Sonia, and her daughter was Katie who was born when her mum was just seventeen. They lived somewhere near Staines. Sonia’s husband had buggered off after eight years of marriage and Gary’s insight to the stars proved correct in that Katie was getting through a difficult time in a relationship. That subject, quite reasonably, was taboo. By our third night all together, I deducted from various titbits that Sonia was in fact forty one, a full three years younger than me. Katie was therefore either twenty three or twenty four – and possibly without a future partner. She must have taken after her father in that her highlighted, but natural blond hair was some contrast to her mother’s dark brown colouring, although both had deep caring brown eyes.

I introduced myself as Ben – “But everyone calls me Cookie. I’m from Stondon Massey”. I didn’t clarify where it was; I hadn’t intended to say where I lived to anybody on this holiday.
“You like cookies, Cookie.” Gary was making one of his outspoken jokes, and he pointed to my waistline.

I rubbed it, looking slightly concerned; yes it was clearly expanding from the consumption of so many treats on offer. But whilst I was deciding to come up with the right answer, or find something funny to say; Paul fired in with “No, I bet you’re called Cookie from the seventies American TV series Sunset Strip.”
I nodded. “Yes, the guy who was always combing his hair.”
Gary must have thought he had gone a bit too far with his comment, “I was only joking, you look fine, but surely you’re too young to remember that.”
Paul pulled a ‘pretend ‘sullen look. “Stop flirting Gary.”
“That’s kind of you Gary – no offence taken. Actually it was my dad who christened me Cookie, but let him flirt, Paul.” I made a motion waving my hand in the air, as if to brush Paul away.
Little did I know that my throw away remark did nothing to enhance my chances with the ladies, particularly Kate who was definitely having an effect on me.

Overall I had continued in not revealing my personal status, or why I was here, it was irrelevant and hadn’t stood me in good stead with the other people at that first lunch time. However I didn’t want to give the wrong impression, and so I went on to say that I was a busy chap running my business that was involved in various ways with industrial cleaning. I said that I had been too busy to settle down with a girl, which unbeknown to me added more weight to the fact that I was probably homosexual, once again, as far as Katie was concerned. I added “I’m here to relax – that’s all.”

There was no prying into who and what we were, which made them my kind of people. It all worked so well when we dined together and the boys and Sonia chatted away which suited me fine to just listen, as did the slightly sad looking Katie. It came as a surprise when Sonia invited me to join her and her daughter on a trip to Petra.