Rats2012 pdf x by StephenLoweFinland

Foreword R.A.T.S Revenge Against Territorial Sequestration With apologies to Walt Disney. This is not a Mickey Mouse story. This is a true story of a Jewish family who escaped the wrath of Nazi Germany, found their way into the war torn England. When they thought that they had now settled into a quiet peaceful English life in rural countryside, terror strikes. Future wiped out of the family, the Jewish father instructs the twin sons to avenge the perpetrators. During a meeting with another Russian Jew, the twins hear of how to motivate Rats to decimate Rats! After exacting the avenge, the twins leave England on a adventure holiday to Amazon Rain Forests leaving the Rodents to fend for themselves.. The Rodents now multiplied exponentially, with a taste for blood, burrow out of their containers to terrorise British population. All original names have been changed to maintain anonymity and confidentiality. However names and details of some original locations remain same to maintain a degree of authenticity This book is dedicated to Israel, to the Israelites the World over, suffering from terrorism, and to the Palestinians who are seeking the security of their own State. May they both find mutual peace and learn to live alongside. 3

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CHAPTER ONE THE YOM KIPPUR WAR 1973 & THE OIL CRISIS

The Festival of Yom Kippur is an important religious event in the Jewish calendar and is celebrated by the Jews world wide. Similarly the Muslims celebrate the festival of Ramadan, during which the Muslims observe their annual fast of Swam. It was coincidental that both these two important religious events occurred simultaneously during October 1973. The volatile situation between the Jews and the Arabs are well documented in the annals of history, dating back to the times of Moses. Although the greed for the new found wealth in oil, precipitated the conflict between these two historical ethnic groups, where the colonial Britain did more harm than good to make the situation even worse. It was remarked in jest that, had Moses, who led the Jews from the Curse of the Pharaohs, taken a turning to the right, instead of going head-on, Moses would have hit oil. The tiny Jewish State of Israel would not only be larger than the small patch of desert today but would have been one of the wealthiest states in the world. But then the Curse on Jews from the days of Herod lives on, and may go on till either the end of the World or the total annihilation of Jews from the face of the Earth. The Arabs who lost territory in preceding wars, in 1947-49, 1956, and especially in the last, the Six-Day War of 1967 were boiling in the desert heat. With no political solution in sight in solving the crisis the Six-Day War had created, frustration motivated several countries to resort to drastic action. The 1967 Six-Day War which started under the leadership of General Gamal Abdul Nasser brought about a humiliating defeat on the Arabs. 4

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During the holy period of Ramadan, every Muslim is expected to participate in the ritual of an absolute fast, from sunrise to sunset. Usually the Middle Eastern business life grinds to a slow low gear. Due to this condition, the Israelis did not expect the Arabs to be engaged on a war footing. The successor to Nasser, President Anwar Al-Sadat was awaiting his moment not only to avenge the humiliation but also to take over the prestigious position of the Pan-Arab leadership. Secretively planned, under the leadership of Egypt, Israel was attacked by Egypt and Syria from one side, with Iraq and Jordan backing from the other. The war which started on the 6th of October 1973 ended on the 22nd October on the Syrian front, and on the 26th October on the Egyptian front. The total cost of the war was estimated to be over US$7 billion and much of the costs of the Arab operation was funded by Saudi Arabia. Once again defeated and humiliated, the Arabs embarked on an oil embargo on the Western nations that supported Israel. At about the same time the Arab nations, under the leadership of the Arab League, created a new weapon by the name of The Arab Boycott List which placed any company, which collaborated with Israel in any form to assist with its economy, on an Arab Blacklist supervised by Palestinian Liberation Organization, also known as PLO. In due course, under the command and leadership of Yasser Arafat, the PLO became the global Face of Terror.

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CHAPTER TWO THE OIL CRISIS & THE UK MINERS STRIKE

A demand for an increase in wages was refuted by the then Conservative government of Prime Minister Edward Heath in 1973 and the coal miners began their long industrial strike. Since most of the power stations which provided electricity were run on coal, as the coal stocks began to dwindle, a three day working week was introduced. In countries like Germany, cars with number plates ending with an odd number, were allowed to run on odd days, and similar with even letters ran on even days. There were hilarious scenes of the typical Germanic dry humour, with Volkswagens with the engine turned-off, being pulled by horses. The autumn and winter of 1973 ended with more gloom than a usual wintry night. The coal miners who were trying to crucify the government led by the organ grinding Edward Richard George Heath eventually succeeded in getting Heath to resign the leadership of the Conservative Party in 1975. Ted Heath, as he was known, the organ playing, choir conductor, jovial sailor, a confirmed bachelor, was and still is, a true English gentleman. In the 1960’s he gained the leadership of the Conservative Party after a three-way struggle between Reginald Maudling and the right wing candidate Enoch Powell. Upon Heath’s defeat in 1975, the mantle of leadership was handed over to Margaret Thatcher, a lawyer by training, and took a firm grip against the Trade Unions. Her ultimate objective was to destroy the power of the Trade Union movement over industry and the government. One way to trim the power of the Trade Union was to increase the unemployment base. An increase in unemployment to curtail the power of the Trade Unions through redundancies and 6

labour cut backs were beginning to bite into the Trade Union cash reserves and investments. The increase in unemployment, long lines at the Labour Exchanges began to create racial tensions, specially in the industrial regions in the Midlands and the North of England, where there is a highly visual non-European past colonial work force. Brought in by the previous Conservative governments immediately after the World War 11, as cheap labour to work in lower category menial jobs, to run the transport system, hospital staffing, the second generation of coloured work force, treated England as their motherland. The Jews who escaped the ghettos and the prisoners-of-war camps from Germany, Poland and Russia, generally settled in certain parts of East and North London. The exceptionally hard working Jewish community, bound by their Jewish faith, generally disregarded their own ethnic origins and boundaries, and co-operated to solidify their common religious, civil and commercial unions. Many of the newer arrivals settled in and around the Eastern parts of London, creating primarily the garments industry, known as “the rag trade”. The more affluent Jews with financial backgrounds concentrated on the banking sector and several of the community went into publishing with the backing of the dynamic power of the richer power players. By 1970’s, many Jews who entered England during 1940’s after the war, had made their mark in the “rag trade”, as it was popularly known for the clothing and garments industry, Merchant Banking, the publishing, the retail, property, Real Estate, and Print & Broadcasting media communications sectors. The Rothschilds, Marks & Spencer, Gradinsky brothers in TV and film producers such as Michael Winner, drove about London in their Rolls Royce's with massive Havana cigars stuck between their spit-drooling lips. Their million pound luxury mansions in North London rubbed the salt into the 7

wounds of the frustrated right wing activists. The wealthy Jews moved into prime industrial and commercial property with a vengeance. The massive tower blocks, commercial and industrial property such as The Centre Point in the heart of London were being advertised for rental and leased tenancy under the names of prominent Jewish companies. Complementing the wealthy Jews, in the 1970’s came the newly enriched oil Sheikhs from Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf, flouting their Rolls Royce Corniche’s, Ferraris, Mercedes Benzes and other expensive toys. The fashionable shopping districts such as Kings Road in Chelsea, the exclusive Knightsbridge became the Arab hunting grounds for daytime shopping and night-time hunting the English women. The young wealthy Arabs, with their bulging wallets and drove expensive sets of drop heads on wheels hunted the pretty English roses. The rich Arabs were running rings around the established fashionable “The Chelsea Set”. Most of the upper class English who had lost their colonial empire during the 1940’s, after winning an expensive World War 11 and with now the Gulf oil crisis, were struggling to maintain a comparative life style, kept their stiff upper lips firmly sealed. The old Empire was striking back. Still, the clever Brit thought, since the newly rich foreigners and immigrants were only creating and bringing in wealth into England, investing in Real Estate, enriching retail business, it can only do good for the country. This was the intelligentsia. The working class was not in a conciliatory mood. The traditional “Fish & Chip Shop” was taken over by the yellow skinned slit-eyed Chinks with their Sweet & Sour Pork Ribs. The British “yobs” raided most of the Chinese restaurants, and tried to runaway without paying the meal-bill were confronted by the angry Chinese owners with meat knives. 8

The brown skin coloured Indians and the Paki’s were running a brisk trade with their cut priced Chicken Vindaloo and Chappatis. With the Indians, Pakistanis, West Indians well employed, although in jobs which the average working class Brit would not touch, the fact that the new immigrants and their descendants occupying British residential property, now painted in gory bright paint work, was a sore sight to most. The teenage mobs, known as Mods who rode scooters, and Rockers who rode motorcycles, whilst having their own fracas, ventured into abusing the brown skinned Indians and Pakistanis, in acts of vandalism and Paki-bashing events in broad daylight. The Middle Class younger generation of the Brits were in fact laying the ground to start their own campaign against the immigrants, especially towards the Coloured community and the Jews. During this period, a leading Conservative politician Enoch Powell made his famous speech, “The Rivers of Blood will Flow in England!” The right wingers resented the foreigners taking over England.

CHAPTER THREE R.A.T.S - REVENGE AGAINST TERRITORIAL SEQUESTRATION.

Racism, racial hatred, discrimination or any other similar attitudes are common to all humanity, irrespective of colour, race, nationality or ethnic background. Racial discrimination is basically created within a human against another, essentially due to insecurity, jealousy, ignorance and fear, through undereducation. Adolf Hitler’s campaign of ethnic cleansing and the massacre of the Jews, was a direct result of Hitler’s inferiority complex. He considered, the hard working, clever cunning Jews to be worse than a plague against the ethnic German. He did not accept the principles of human equality and the rights to exist, thus he started on his path of the annihilation of the five million or more Jews during a four year period. The swastika an ancient symbol that has been used for over 3,000 years was resurrected by the Nazi Germany. Until the Nazis used this symbol, the swastika was used by many cultures throughout the past 3,000 years to represent life, sun, power, strength, and good luck. In 1920, Adolf Hitler decided that the Nazi Party needed its own insignia and flag. For Hitler, the new flag had to be "a symbol of our own struggle" as well as "highly effective as a poster." (Mein Kampf, pg. 495) On August 7, 1920, at the Salzburg Congress, this flag became the official emblem of the Nazi Party. It is alleged that His Holiness the Pope, the head of the Catholic Church, the representative of Saint Peter, and also , the Duke of Windsor, who abdicated the British throne, supported Adolf Hitler. So did several Western States in a discreet and a clandestine manner and supported the Nazi butchers who were annihilating the Jews. And did the President of IBM. Hitler's quest to destroy the Jews was "greatly enhanced and energised" by IBM and its creator and 10

Chairman, Thomas J Watson . The neutral Swiss saw it fit to guard the gold and valuable property of the richer Jews and hoard them in their Swiss vaults and kept their Swiss lips sealed for almost fifty years. When it came to bullions and millions, is there a honest gnome in Swiss banking? The World War 11 ended with the partition of Germany, divided between the Allies and the Soviet Union, and the loss of German territory, with the German pride in tatters. The once mighty German army had been reduced to a minuscule of its former size and glory. The Hollywood film industry, controlled by the American Jewish community was rubbing salt into the German wounds by producing one film after another, humiliating the defeated German population. Inside the new generation of Germans, anger was boiling but they could not let out the steam. In the early sixties, the Negro population, now in their fourth or fifth generation, after being kidnapped and shipped as slaves into the cotton fields of the American deep south, had started to fight aggressively for their human rights. Riding high on defending the principles of human rights and equality, came in John F. Kennedy winning the Presidency on a Democratic Party ticket. Kennedy had certain values, which taken to its end, would have done so much good for the struggling coloured minorities. One of the Kennedyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s personal weaknesses which ran and still runs to date in the Kennedy dynastic family, is a high sex drive, which made the Kennedy brothers go weak in their joints for the Marilyn Monroeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s of this world. The egocentric President Kennedy also tried to bring about the down fall of Doctor Fidel Castro, the charismatic Communist President of Cuba. Having failed on several occasions, Kennedy ordered the blockade on Cuba which brought the Soviet Navy right outside the territorial waters of the USA and brought the world into the precipice of a World War 111. 11

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The Negroes or by their derogatory name Nigger, now preferring to calling themselves Blacks, upgraded to AfroAmericans,began to fight for their principles under the leadership of various Black individuals such as Martin Luther King, Reverend Jessie Jackson etc. As recorded in history, two Kennedy brothers and King were subsequently assassinated. The animosity and hatred against the Blacks, brown Asians and Latinos, the yellow Chinese and Orientals, the Jews, created one of the most vicious ultra right wing organisations, known as the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). The white robed and hooded white supremacist members of the KKK ignited a campaign of violence against the blacks, the coloured and the Jews. Once again, due to the lack of education, as in the case of Hitler, the KKK called for a campaign of ethnic cleansing. Any American person who is not of “Aryan” descent should be deported from USA. Little did the members of KKK and Hitler knew the history of the Aryans. Essentially Aryans are of Northern Asian origin, a mixture of Persians and North Indians. The Sinhalese in Sri Lanka (Ceylon), who migrated from North India about 3000 years ago, are of Aryan descent. Generally fairer skinned than most Southern Indians, Aryans have brown eyes and dark hair. Aryan are not white skinned or blond haired with steel blue eyes, as Hitler tried to portray in his quest for the “Chosen Breed”. The Palestinians were frothing with fury. A historical nation without a nation. No one knew where Israel began or where The State of Palestine should start. The Holy City of Jerusalem was lost and the Palestinians were scattered all over the Middle East. Although the original Palestinians and the Jews originated from the same plot of desert sand, their fundamental mentalities differed quite a lot. 12

Where as the Jews spread out globally, secured themselves successfully despite their alleged self-inflicted Curse for betraying Jesus Christ, Jews seemed to bounce back on their feet. The Jews were and are intellectually superior. They had learnt over time, how to be delicate and to use the power of gentle persuasion. And, they owned bulk of the media, Print, TV, Film and the major financial institutions in Europe and Americas. The power of the media supported the Jewish cause over vehemently. The Palestinians, similar in numbers, seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Fighting against the Jews, the Western world and amongst themselves. Having been thrown out of Jordan, Egypt, Syria, the Palestinians did not have a permanent homeland, a piece of sand, which they could call their own. Essentially the Palestinians and the ordinary Arabs were undereducated and resorted to the force of the blade rather than the pen. The historical Arab warrior mounted on a Arabian thoroughbred with a drawn out sword, screaming for blood, was again reborn. Especially their religion Islam, the largest Faith in the Universe practised more violence and bloodletting than any other religion, or all the other religions combined. Honour-killing as well as killing ones own father for a piece of land is well documented amongst the Muslims in the Middle East. Forced by circumstances beyond their reach, the Palestinians decided to employ the same terror tactics which the Jews used to secure their own State from the British, and resorted to terrorism. During a bout of terrorist activity by various different factions, Gasser Aright, an Egyptian trained engineer was nominated as the leader of the faction known as the Palestine Liberation Organisation, the PLO. Fighting for the same cause but fighting amongst themselves were several other organisations, to name but a few, Popular Front for Liberation of Palestine (PULP), Al Fatah and a host of others. 13

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CHAPTER FOUR BIRTH OF THE INTERNATIONAL TERROR.

During this period several other terrorist gangs appeared on the world stage. The German Bader-Meinhof Gang led by Andreas Bader, which made daring attacks within Germany, collaborated with Japanese Red Brigade, and the Red Army Faction, the Italian gangs, Tupamaros in Latin America, the Irish Republican Army (IRA). Many of these terrorist organisations were self-fund raising, using their own revenue generating concepts such as kidnappings, extortion, blackmail, drug trafficking, bank robberies, prostitution etc. Then the governments of Libya, Iraq and Syria entering into the fray by funding individual entrepreneurs such as Carlos Illych Sanchez, the son of a wealthy South American, also known as the Jackal. Between most of these terrorist organisations, they had one common international enemy -The Jew. The message was simple. Organise individual small cell units, operating in defined areas and countries with the primary objective of identifying leading Jews within industrial, commercial, financial, political arenas and kill them. Between these terrorist groups, one of the most bloody periods of the history of international terrorism was conceived. During the 1972 Munich Olympics, one of the Bader Meinhof led operations caused a bloody massacre of the Israeli Olympic Team. An international flight which was hijacked ending up in in Entebbe in Uganda, took several lives including the life of a genial old lady, Dora Bloch, a JewishAmerican passport holder, as well as the life of Commander Nethanayahu, the brother of General Binjamin (Bibi) Nethanayahu, an Israeli Prime Minister during the late 1990â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. Several international airlines were skyjacked simultaneously and blown up in the Middle East whilst the passengers of another other hijacked flights were executed, one at a time. The terrorists went on a indiscriminate rampage of killing, 14

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simply to avenge the sympathisers of Israel. The Middle East pot of oil was sizzling with the blood of poor innocent victims during the 1973-1975. International air travel became the most riskiest forms of travel, not due to technicalities associated with the aircraft but due to the threats created by the terrorists. A British Airways flight departing for New York was moved to a corner of the Heathrow Airport just before take off. The security found a pregnant English girl carrying a holdall with wrapped gift, containing explosives connected to a timer device, due to go off as the aircraft reaching a higher altitude. The Arab boyfriend of the six month pregnant girl and the father of the unborn child, had given the gift to be given to his cousin in New York. The start of Islamic Terror campaign. This was planning of cold-blooded murder. Killing of totally innocent human beings. Whether it be the Jewish founders of Marks & Spencer or Tesco or any owner of a commercial establishment, the orders were clear. Targets were carefully selected in mainland Europe, in Germany, France and also in the British Isles. Key Jewish business figures throughout the world were listed by the terrorist organisations. The Red Army Faction had also started their offensive in Italy. Kidnappings of senior politicians and leading businessmen became a common occurrence. The objective was blackmail and extortion to fund the future terrorist operations. Contract killings and executions in broad daylight became a part of the normal daily news bulletins. The most daring kidnapping was carried out by “The Jackal” when he kidnapped the Oil Ministers from the leading member states of Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) at their summit in Vienna. Later the Jackal successfully demanded and received several million dollars in 15

exchange for the life of Sheikh Ahmed Zaki Yamani, the billionaire Saudi Arabian Oil Minister. Carlos Illych Sanchez aka The Jackal, a brilliant artiste in disguise, a bon viveur, a womaniser, was arrested by the French commandos and brought to trial in France and is currently serving a prison sentence. Here the terrorists showed that they were even prepared to attack their own allies who bankrolled and financed the terrorist operations. On the other side of the Atlantic, the primary target was the Black, and KKK was in charge. The KKK had an easy target to identify. First and the prime target was the Black skin. Black families, settlements, their places of worship, schools and other points related to Blacks were at the receiving end of the hooded KKK. Apart from suffering from normal racist problems, now the blacks, the Jews and the Orientals living in USA, were threatened by organised terror. After the Civil War, the Ku Klux Klan, led by former Confederate General Nathaniel Bedford Forrest, used terrorist tactics to intimidate former slaves. A new version of the Ku Klux Klan arose during the early 1920s. Throughout this time period, immigration, fear of radicalism, and a revolution in morals and manners fanned anxiety in large parts of the country. Roman Catholics, Jews, African Americans, and foreigners were only the most obvious targets of the Klan's fear-mongering. Bootleggers and divorcees were also targets. 16

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CHAPTER FIVE FREEDMAN & FAMILY ESCAPE FROM USSR.

Emmanuel & Dora Freedman were in their early thirties when Hitler invaded Poland. Dora had just given birth to their son, Rafael on the 11th of May 1938. Emmanuel, a Polish Jew by birth, was an ultra Orthodox Jew, decided to flee Krakow with Dora & Rafael, anywhere he could get to, as fast as possible. The mighty German army was marching in from the West into Poland and Emmanuel simply started his trek towards Ukraine. After three weeks of travelling Emmanuel with his family arrived in Kiev by various forms of transport as well as by foot. After moving from one place to another, the Freedmans managed to get themselves transported by train to Minsk in Belarus. During the confusion created by the invading German armies, Emmanuel armed with forged documents created by friendly Jewish counterfeiters, managed to get themselves into an overnight freight train from Minsk to Leningrad and then to the Russian village of Vyborg, on the present border of Finland. Then their main problem was to get over the Soviet border into Finland, which gained independence from Russia after a long bloody war. The thousand or so kilometre FinnishSoviet border had a few weak spots and the Freedmans managed to cross into Finland from one of the old Finnish Karelian territories, now sequestrated by the Soviets. The kindly Finnish farmers readily helped the Jewish family but suggested that they got away from the border regions as soon as possible. Travelling by train and bus through Finnish cities Tampere and Turku, the Freedmans arrived at the port of Vaasa. Since Finland was expecting the wrath of the invading German army, Freedmans decided to take a chance by moving into the Swedish city of UmeĂĽ. At the same time Finnish children were being shipped to Sweden, away from the invading Germans, for safety of neutral Sweden. 17

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Sweden having declared themselves to remain a neutral nation was a safe enough country, but Freedmans wanted to reach the United Kingdom and then perhaps cross the Atlantic to USA. After one year of leaving Kiev, the Freedmans arrived at Felixstowe and headed by train to London. During this time the World War 11 was raging at its peak with the German war planes were dropping bombs mercilessly in and around London. The entire British population, under the leadership of Winston Churchill was engaged in the war effort. The tailoring skills of Emmanuel found refuge amongst the war torn community and started to work in a factory in the East End of London stitching parachutes. Dora, carrying an infant son, eternally grateful to the new host country, started working with the British Red Cross, helping out in the soup kitchens, peeling potatoes. With the help of the London’s Jewish community, Emmanuel found himself a one room flat on top of a Kosher restaurant. With the war coming to a gradual end in 1944, Emmanuel continued to work in the tailoring business, with Dora now working below the flat in the Kosher kitchen. Immediately after the capitulation of Hitler’s armed forces, Emmanuel armed with a second-hand Singer sewing machine, decided to go freelance. With an improved command of the English language, and a nominal savings to his name, Emmanuel rented a small space at the top end of Tottenham Court Road, started an alteration and a garment repair service. The shops from and around Oxford Street sent their garments for repairs and alterations to Emmanuel. He never said no to any job large or small, worked six days a week, observing the Sabbath, and many a day, worked late into the night. The genial, hard working diminutive Jew, always with a friendly smile, greeting anyone he met with “Shalom” won the hearts of the neighbours, both Jew and the Gentile alike. 18

By 1950, the one man alterations business had grown into a workshop of over twenty persons, mainly Jewish women, turning out men’s suits and women’s dresses. The tiny floor space had expanded into a three floor workshop with a ground level retail shop with a glass display window. After school, the young Rafael would help his father with a few odd jobs but Emmanuel had more ambitious plans for his son. “Rafael, you must have a respectable profession, like a lawyer, a doctor, perhaps an engineer”, Emmanuel would nag at least a dozen times a week. “Yes Papa” was the respectful response he always received from his son. After dinner, Rafael applied himself in earnest to his homework and prepared himself for the next day. Simultaneously, Rafael was inducted into the traditions of a conservative Jewish family and taught to obey every single wish of his parents. One thing which the father drummed into the mind of young Rafael was, “Never ever to touch anything which was made in Germany. Never get into a Mercedes-Benz or travel by Lufthansa. Krupp and Volkswagen had Jewish blood all over their companies”, he said. Having come out with excellent grades at GCE O Levels, Rafael gained three A’s in his Higher National Diploma (HND and entered the University of London where he gained a BSc (Hons) in Electrical Engineering at the age of twenty two years. The proud father presented his newly graduated Electrical Engineer to the London Jewish community at various get togethers. The Jewish tradition demanded that a suitable 19

Jewish bride was found for Rafael. The jungle drums of the closely knit Jewish community, soon found a pretty young Jewish girl, Rachel Rubenstein, the daughter of another Jewish tailor of Russian origin, in the East End. The newly wedded couple decided to spend a year or so in a small flat nearer to their parents flats. The family get-togethers on the Sabbath at the local Synagogue were followed by a family lunch. Soon Rachel was pregnant to the joys of their parents. The birth of his first child was a tremendous disappointment to Rafael. Not only that his wife failed to bear a son, but gave birth to a girl suffering from the Downs Syndrome. “Perhaps it was the after effects of the stressful war”, trying to console the family Emmanuel. Shortly afterwards a financially secure Emmanuel decided to move away from Central London into a detached house in the northern suburbs of Wembley. Soon afterwards, Rachel gave birth to twin boys, Michael and David, and the family was ever so grateful for the double gift of God. A short spell at Thorn Electrical, a manufacturer of radio and television products, Rafael decided to specialise in electronics leading to computers. Having joined International Computers Ltd (ICL) as a design engineer, Rafael saw the potential opportunities available within the computer industry. Computers in those days were massive pieces of equipment, demanding clean aseptic environments. The information into computers were largely fed on magnetic tape whilst some utilised punched paper tapes, which required paper tape readers. Rafael found a niche area and decided to design and manufacture his very own High Speed Paper Tape Readers, an essential piece of computer peripheral equipment. After hawking the product to various manufacturers of computer equipment, Rafael received the technical approvals of many of the leading manufacturers of main frame 20

equipment. With a sound base of committed support from the large computer manufacturers, Rafael with the financial backing of several Jewish businessmen, set-up production facility in Tylers Green, a small village in Buckinghamshire and treated himself and his family to a comfortable, secluded detached period house. Within a short two year period, the company, Trend Electronics Limited employed over 200 persons in the manufacturing facility and opened up an international marketing office at a prestigious location, Northdale House in North Circular Road. True to his promise to his ageing father, Rafael did not touch any German products and drove himself in a French Citroén. His only employee of Arabic and French origin, was an engineer, Nick Dennis of French-LebanesePalestinian extract, who could speak some fourteen languages, a necessary evil in the international marketing scene. Rafael would generally start his day at 7.00 in the morning. A quick cup of coffee and drive himself to the factory, a fifteen minute drive from home. Rafael loved to get his hands dirty and would be happiest sitting down with a worker and dive in with him, straight into a technical problem. In the meantime Rachel would take care of the kids. Getting the three of them to wash and dress-up in the morning was like an ongoing war, a typical morning school-run. “Michael! Stop teasing Ruthie. Go brush your teeth”, would yell Rachael. “David, will you give Michael his trousers, please. Yours are in the cupboard”, Rachael continued. “Listen all of you, we are going to be late again” lamented Rachael. After a argumentative breakfast, Rachel would drive the twin boys to their school in Chesham and take Ruth to a special private school for the less developed. 21

Then its time to visit the local Sainsbury supermarket, back home to prepare lunch for Rafael, who enjoyed his home cooked food. Soon afterwards, she picks up Ruth, stop somewhere for an ice cream or a chocolate Mars Bar for Ruth, and then off to pickup the boys by three. Whilst the kids are playing havoc in the garden or in their play room if the weather was soggy, Rachel would start preparing the evening meal for the family. Usually Rafael returns from either Tylers Green or Northdale House between six and seven. Had not Rachel put her foot down, Rafael would work round the clock at the factory. He loved his creation, “my greatest love!” which he called, of course after the family. During some weekends, the parents of either Rafael or Rachel would come over from Wembley or the East End and spend the weekend, enjoying the fresh country air and the surrounding green fields. “Mama! grandpa and granny are here! “ would yell the enthusiastic kids, knowing very well that each visit consisted of a dozen or so surprises. The grandparents would spend the next ten minutes hugging the offspring, with lots of joy and laughter filling the entire period house. Whilst the granny and the mother did the Sunday roast, the men would drive with the kids to one of the local pubs in Marlow, their favourite being The Royal Oak at Bovingdon Green. Marlow is a charming historic town situated on the River Thames and surrounded by beautiful countryside, with the Chiltern Hills to the north. “Two pints of the Best, one with a left handle and the other with a right and a few packets of crispies and nuts”, Rafael always the first with the first round. 22

“How is your new High Speed Reader selling with ICL?” would question the old man. Rafael munching a mouthful of crisps, “Needs more fine tuning and a few extra tons of bank support to finish the last bits”. “I heard that Ruthie had some problems at school” the old man asks cleaning his thick horn-rimmed spectacles. “Nothing much to worry about. The usual”, muttered Rafael. “Have you followed what Moshe Dayan’s comment on the next stage?” asked the old tailor looking rather worried. “Yes. But we are living in England quite safely. Apart from the bloody power cuts, we are still managing to do our duty to World Jewish Organisation” Rafael added with an air of confidence. “Son, I am still concerned about any possible repercussions and fall outs”, the father added. Although none of them had any immediate relations in Israel, they felt it was their duty to support the tiny State, which was surrounded by hostile neighbours. Not only they contributed financially to the World Jewish Organisation but also to several independent charities in Israel, through their London representatives. They did participate in many of the fund raising events for Israel and Jewish causes, and benefited indirectly by the business contacts they made during such events. Being a thriving community only about 30 miles west of the centre of London, with ease of road and rail communications, it is popular with visitors and as a business base. Although the local community knew one another reasonably well, there were always transit visitors. And no one paid too much attention to a group of young men in black leather jackets, who rode around on noisy motor cycles. There were hundreds of bikers roaring through the country lanes every weekend. One of them showed a special interest in Rafael and his family. 23

CHAPTER SIX RAPE IN THE CHILTERNS

It was after the ending of the the oil embargo, the three day working week with power cuts had really eaten into the British industry. The entire Western world was feeling the power of the Arab dominated oil. Sky rocketing unemployment, factory closures, bankruptcies, a daily occurrence, were no longer creating any major impact in the daily news programmes. On that particular Sunday, Rafaelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s parents had spent an enjoyable weekend with their three grand children and headed towards Wembley, taking some of the uncongested side streets. Rafael had his own problems. The hardware sales had virtually come to a standstill. The Northdale House office had to be closed down. The Press & Public Relations agency got the boot. The Export staff was reduced from twenty persons to one man, Dick Baines, the Export Manager. But there is also a limit to cost cutting. The banks were applying the heat to reduce borrowings. Mulling through all the problems facing Rafael, he walked towards the trolley and poured himself a large Scotch. Just as he was about to sit, Rafael heard the roar of motor cycles coming on the gravel drive towards the front door. Rafael did not like having anybody other than his close family visiting his home, primarily due to Ruth. She was growing up to be a pleasant young lady despite her handicap. She loved to play the piano and sing, but totally out of tune, and enjoyed every moment of it. Rafael simply enjoyed watching her being happy. Michael and David were different. Both were of above average intelligence, handsome young men, pale in complexion, taller than the parents, and sported dark flock of thick wavy hair. Both sons had their own ambitions. The father wanted at least one of them to go into the medical field. The other might consider giving the father a hand in business. 24

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Like their parents, both boys were very closely attached to the immediate family and dearly loved their elder sister. Suddenly the quiet peaceful Chiltern air was cracked by the thundering roar of the engines of several powerful motor cycles. As the roar of noisy motor cycle engines stopped, Rafael walked to the kitchen where Rachel was preparing their evening meal wondering what a group of motor cyclists would want at this time of the night. As he approached the front door, the doorbell rang twice. Rafael opened the front door and saw a group of young men in their mid twenties standing underneath the porch. “Yesss, can I.....” Before Rafael could open his mouth, two of the men rushed into the house, pushing Rafael backwards. The other two followed right behind the first two men and slammed the door behind them. All of them wore black leather gear and had the safety helmets on with the visors down, covering their faces. “Who are you? What do you want?” cried Rafael. Frightened not only for his life but mainly for the safety of his children, Rafael tried to engage the leader of the pack in polite conversation. “Shut the fuck up! You bloody Jew!” And with a lighting response, a thundering head butt from the leader, right on to the Rafael’s forehead, sent Rafael spinning to the floor. The leader then ordered two of his men “Tie up the old bugger!”.

Rafael’s feet were tied, and made to kneel, then with the rope running around the neck twice, ended up tying his hands to the back. Any sudden move by his feet or hands, would immediately throttle him. The twins who stood frozen in a state of shock, were made to sit on the dining room chairs and were gagged and bound to the chairs. Then one of them got hold of Rachel who went into a screaming fit. “Shut up! You Jewish bitch” slapped her face a dozen times and tied her hands to her back. Ruth who was seated next to the piano dumb founded. “Bring the lass over here” ordered the masked leader to one of his men. The leader pushed Ruth on to the Chinese carpet, whilst one man held her arms the other two pulled her panties off. Rachel unable to bear to hear Ruth’s screaming, got up from her seat with lightning speed. The leader, sporting a pair of army leather “bovver’ boots, gave a vicious karate kick which sent the screaming woman flying. As she fell, the back of her head struck the edge of the kitchen sink, a thud, and her skull cracked in half. Without a second glance, the leader simply lowered his trousers and forced himself upon a frightened innocent girl. Whilst pulling up his black leather trousers up he yelled, “Come on boys, who is next?” and ordered the rest to follow his inhumane act. One by one the four men raped the young teenager, who was now in dumbfounded shock. On their way out, the leader turned to an uncontrollably shaking Rafael and said, “This is the price you pay for supporting Israel”. 26

As the four men were heading towards the door, Michael noticed that on the back of the black leather jackets, an embossed emblem, an outline picture of a ‘Rat’ with the letters R.A.T.S. across the rear of the jackets. One of the men noticed the tear swelled eyes of the twins, and without any emotion, he slammed the door shut. The thunder of the motorcycle engines melted into the fresh countryside breeze.

CHAPTER SEVEN AFTER THE MURDER - THE MOVE.

It took more than two hours for the twins to release themselves. Whilst one of them started to untie Rafael, the other rushed into the kitchen. Rachel laid in a pool of blood, with her brown eyes open wide. In a state of panic and confusion, Rafael hugging Ruth, muttering “Ruthie mmm my darling, I’m sorry” and started dialling 999. It was a struggle to get a few words out of his mouth. Once the police and the emergency services were alerted, a sobbing Rafael called his father and tried to explain what had happened. The police cars and the emergency services, with their flashing blue lights were outside the house in under ten minutes. The ambulance attendants rushed into the kitchen and came out nodding their heads to inform the police officer in charge, “The blow had cracked her skull. she had suffered almost instantaneous death ”, said one of the medical attendants. By the time both sets of parents arrived, there was a gaggle of press photographers waiting outside the door, until the police officer decided to allow them inside. “Sorry boys, I cannot allow anybody inside until our detectives have finished with their jobs”, said the Inspector in Charge. “I will make a press statement in due course”. After the Coroner had performed his duty, the police photographers took dozens of pictures, whilst two police women tried to console Ruth and the two boys by offering cups of hot chocolate. Rafael sat on the sofa, tears running down his cheeks, curling his whole body, simply kept on 28

muttering to himself “Mmmm, something which no one understood.

brdtdgng,

mmmm”,

One policeman brought a large Scotch, placed it in Emmanuel’s hand and whispered, “Sir, take a gulp of this”. Even a hardened policeman could not comprehend the viciousness and the violence of the scene. The police officer in charge recommended that the family is taken to the nearby hospital for physical examinations, to be sedated and kept overnight under medical supervision. To Emmanuel this was a ghastly experience, which he never ever believed, would happen in The United Kingdom. For almost one year he tried and succeeded in getting his family out of the terror of Adolf Hitler. For the Rubensteins, the loss of their only daughter was incalculable. And Rafael was experiencing the worst nightmare of his life. The following day, Rafael’s parents came to the hospital and picked up the four, and drove them to their home in Wembley. The Monday morning newspapers said very little of the brutal attack, the rape of a adolescent and the murder of the wife of the Managing Director of Trend Electronics. Ruth who was suffering from an acute state of shock had gone totally dumb. She simply stared into the abstract distance, would not allow anybody to touch her. The next four days, Ruth did not eat a bean and stayed in her room all by herself. The twins, Michael and David were in their room, continuously sobbing, totally disoriented with the rest of the world around them. After the funeral ceremony, the remains of Rachel was interned at a Jewish cemetery, two post mortems were held by the family. The first on Rachel and the second on the fate of Trend Electronics. Rafael’s parents had agreed with him that they would be prepared to take good care of Ruth until things returned to normal. 29

It was impossible for Rafael to apply any form of concentration on to his business. The grisly attack on his family, the rape of his daughter, the death of his beloved wife haunted him day and night. Then there were the twins, totally disoriented and refused to attend school. Drastic situation demanded that drastic decisions had to be made. After in depth consultations between the immediate family, Rafael decided to sell his shares of Trend Electronics. Since the night of the murder, Rafael and family had not visited their home in Chesham. The temporary move to the three bedroom detached house of Emmanuel in Wembley has been extended to the fourth month. The nett proceeds from the sale of his house in Chesham and the sale of his share at Trend was expected to nett him around ÂŁ200,000-250,000 before tax. Then he considered moving to Australia after the murder trial, but the parents were against that thought. Both families of grand parents wanted to be nearer their only grandchildren. Rafaelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s primary concern was the well being and development of his children. Also being brought up in a family oriented conservative environment, Rafael decided to honour the wishes of his elders. In the state which Ruth was currently in, it would be difficult for Rafael to cope with on his own. Rafael also discounted any possibilities of future marriages, due to his love and respect towards Rachel. Ruth would also place a heavy burden upon the ageing grand parents. Therefore, with great regret, the family decided to place Ruth in a private sanatorium in Hertfordshire. The next decision was to change the Jewish identity for the sake of the two boys. Solicitor Leonard Solley, a local Jewish lawyer friend, practising in Harpenden, was given the brief of changing the surname from Freedman to Fellows, an English name, by deed poll. The next point in the agenda was to find a suitable quiet place to start a new life. Absolute privacy and 30

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security were of paramount consideration. Amenities such as schools, shops and other essential services had to be convenient and nearby, but not too close. After a few weeks of search and telephone calls, Rafael found himself driving into Hyde Lane, a narrow country lane between Watford and Hemel Hempstead, leading to an old disused farm, The Monks Farm. With about six acres of non arable farm land, several out buildings, stables and a large five bedroom cottage, the asking price of ÂŁ 45,000-; suited Rafael down to the ground. Rafael instructed his business friend, Solicitor Leonard Solley to prepare the Exchange of Contracts. One of his architect friends was given the task to conduct the survey, and attend to necessary repairs and modifications. Rafael wanted a complete research workshop created, so that he could work from home. A tennis court was built at the back of one of the outbuildings. The entire house was treated against woodworm and dry rot, using the services of Rentokil. After a few months Rafael and the twins moved into their new home and decided to maintain a low profile. The twins started at the Hemel Hempstead Secondary School and Rafael decided to play with his thoughts and inventions in one of the outbuildings.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER EIGHT THE MURDER TRIAL

Immediately after the murder, police from several counties cooperated to identify and arrest the perpetrators of the criminal and disgusting offences. Based on the statements made by the Freedman family, the police enquiries extended nation-wide with special emphasis on right wing organisations and neoNazi sympathisers. Once these groups were identified, the police began to look into their behavioural patterns, dress code, mode of transportation etc. The Scotland Yard investigation team liaised with Mossad, the Israeli Secret Service in London, who had a detailed information bank on all the major organisations which might pose a threat to Israel or to the Jewish community in the UK. Several Mossad agents had been following the activities of some of the cells of R.A.T.S for several months in the UK, and knew of Chris Edwards. Within a few weeks Chris Edwards and Geoff Jones were taken in for questioning. Chris Edwards, a hardened racist, was one of the key persons in the cell which specialised on identifying Jews who operated small to medium size businesses. As it came out, he was trained initially by the Bader-Meinhof Terrorist Gang and had spent several spells in Tripoli, alongside Irish Republican Army, the anti-British IRA terrorists, undergoing training in hand-held weapons, explosives and unarmed combat. These training programmes were conducted under the supervision of Soviet commandos and were funded by Mummar Gaddafi the Libyan leader. Although much of the Soviet leadership was of Jewish origin and Russian Jews have played a key role in the development of Israel, there was a hidden hatred of the Jew amongst the upper echelons of Russian politburo, especially the KGB. Having completed an arduous and a rigourous training programme, Chris returned to England via Malta and the Irish 32

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Republic. He had instructions to meet with some of the senior members of the IRA Provisional Council to discuss cooperation on operational levels. IRA had their own agenda and quite frankly they were not interested in the Jewish problem. Furthermore, any serious activity against the Jews may backfire on the Irish efforts to raise funds in the USA. The government of USA would never upset the almighty Jewish community and the powerful Jewish Lobby. Even the Irish Kennedys depended on the Jewish vote. During the interrogation, with charges of murder hanging on his head, Geoff Jones agreed to co-operate with the police and become a State Witness. Geoff was one of the newer recruits Chris had picked-up. Both worked in one of the meat factories in Bletchley, Chris, as a trainee butcher and Geoff, a van driver. It was the responsibility of each member of the cell to recruit at least two members each year in order to receive the command of an operational unit of four or five members. Geoff agreed to become a State Witness and to name the other two members who participated in the crime, Don Carpenter and James Powell. The fifth member, Julie Evans was suffering from a broken collar bone after a motor cycle accident and was still lying in a hospital in Northampton. Over the next weeks of interrogation, James Powell also agreed to co-operate and both became State Witnesses during the trial. Police during their raids, into houses where the defendants lived, found large amounts of printed material. Lists of names and details of Jewish businessmen around the main cities of United Kingdom were also found. Apart from that, no other information leading to any person outside the cell was found. Even the names of the members of the cell were not mentioned in any of the papers. Police were expecting to find weapons or explosives, but were disappointed and learnt that weapons are only made available to special units and are kept under control by the commanding 33

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units. The cell operated by Chris Edwards, was a primary unit, mainly used for surveillance, intelligence and to apply terror or blackmail, and were not given any instructions to execute or apply any direct physical force on any of their targets. This information was known to Mossad, hence Mossad did not take any preventive action to diffuse Chris and his cell. When Rafael was asked by the police to visit the police station for an identification parade, he almost fainted. It was not a pleasant sight to see the faces of the killers of his wife and the ones who destroyed the life of little Ruth. Rafael agreed with the police that the three children would not be subjected to relive the horror of that Sunday night and Rafael would be the only person to perform this necessary task. Rafael could never forget the expressions of the mouth, the teeth, the limp and the large physique, the commanding voice of Chris Edwards although half his head was covered by the safety helmet. Geoff Jones was next. His harelip gave him away. Once the identification was successfully executed, Rafael drove back to Wembley. Solicitor Leonard Solley who was acting as an adviser to Rafael supported by Solicitor Andrew Watson of Leonard Solley & Co of Harpenden, got an agreement with the Prosecutor that the new identity of the Freedman family and the place of abode will be maintained in confidence. Since the police had extracted confessions from two of the accused, it was an open and shut case. The trial lasted three days and Chris Edwards was found guilty of manslaughter, and several other acts of rape, assault etc and was jailed for fifteen years. Don Carpenter was found guilty of being an accessory and received a penal term of twelve years. The other two, James Powell and Geoff Jones received sentences of eight years each. Although the defendants appealed against the decision, the 34

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Appeals Court upheld the verdict. Having heard the verdict and the terms of punishment, Rafael was disappointed. He expected at least one life term no less than thirty years with the others receiving a minimum of fifteen to twenty years. The fact of the matter is that, all of them would be out of prison during five to ten years. Having proved without any element of doubt that the crime was committed by the four defendants, Rafael thought that they all got off lightly. He lost a beloved wife, a good, loving mother, and the life of Ruth totally and utterly destroyed, the criminals would be enjoying freedom within a few years. He was totally disappointed with the British legal system. Now Rafael began to feel insecure. Will he and his family be targeted again? Are they safe walking the streets in Britain again? Solicitor Leonard Solley made a personal appeal to the Chief Constable of Hertfordshire and he agreed to exercise some extra degree of police protection. A panic button was to be installed in their Monkâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Farm and police would give priority to any emergency call. The police would also advice on the installation of a sophisticated electronics security alarm system and recommended that the Freedman considered a private security arrangement with one of the private commercial companies. Being an electronics whizz kid himself, Rafael decided to design an ingenious security network in and around the farm. Two of his ex-factory mates volunteered to assist with the installation. Later one evening, Rafael, over a dinner, discussed the situation to date with Michael and Daniel. From now on all of them must exercise absolute caution, maintain secrecy and family confidentiality. No friends or guests should be invited to their home except their immediate family. Since they are 35

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financially secure, both should concentrate on their studies with the focus on a discipline or a career. Above all, both of them should plan to seek and avenge the criminals who caused the family such unbearable grief. “Revenge!” he cried. “The bastards MUST pay” he told his sons. This was not a polite request from their father, but an Order!

CHAPTER NINE PASSING OUT AND PASSED AWAY

Over the next few years, the life of the Fellows family was one of routine. Daniel would drop off Michael at Hemel Hempstead and then drive in the opposite direction to Watford Technical College. Around four o’clock both would meet again in Hemel Hempstead and drive home to Hyde Lane. Rafael who now works as a freelance designer and independent developer on electronics products, would play both mum and dad, have the evening tea ready for the boys. After tea, the three of them would walk around the farm, play a game of tennis, basket ball or football for a while, then the boys would engage themselves with their studies and dad would walk into his workshop. Rafael had converted one of the two barns into a comfortable and a professional state of the art high technology R&D technical laborotary. Over a period of time he had acquired various testing equipment and installed an array of machinery which would make the design and development engineers at IBM wince. Through friends of friends, Rafael made acquaintances with Sir Clive Sinclair, a Jew, one of the most highly regarded and brilliant British inventors of our time. Pocket calculators, minitelevisions, electric cars and a host of other consumer electronic products proudly displayed the name of Sinclair. “Welcome Rafael. Sorry to hear what you have had to go through”, Clive said. Sinclair, being a Jew himself, having heard of the plight of Fellows in detail, immediately made several offers of commercial co-operation and proposed a plan of future bilateral co-operation. Fellows would be given short term assignments to test some of the Sinclair product developments and would receive a nominal retainer of £500.00 per month. Not bad for a start, Fellows thought. 37

Then he met with Alan Sugar, the flamboyant owner of Amstrad Group and the Chairman of a leading football club. Amstrad was one of the leading British manufacturers of incar entertainment equipment, household electronic products and computers. Sugar was a different kettle of fish. The cigar chomping, East End barrow-boy, with no formal education self-made multimillionaire was a no nonsense tough talker. He had no special places for people with sob stories. But still he had a special soft spot for the fellow Jews. All he wanted was a project or a business opportunity clearly identified. If he liked the sound of the story and if he saw even an inkling of turning a the project into a profit, he would bite. Fellows was not exactly a novice, he also had to climb the grease pole, and had slipped a few times. Sugar saw potential in the Intellectual Property of Fellows and gave him a brief on the design and development of the next generation of desk top computers. “I think you have come to the right place. With your experience, you can help me develop the next generation of consumer electronics to shake the whole bloody industry”, Sugar said puffing the tail end of his damp cigar. Fellows would receive a nominal monthly retainer of £500.00 and once the project was completed he would receive a lump sum. This was a fair deal. In the meantime, Daniel received a Diploma in Logistics and Freight Management and Michael passed out as a State Registered Nurse. After working a few short spells at various freight forwarding companies, “I think I am ready to do my own thing Papa. Could we afford twenty grand to start up my on my own?” Daniel suggested to dad, and asked for his help towards the down38

payment on a power train. Rafael gladly obliged and Daniel started to work as a self-employed subcontractor to one of the leading freight forwarding companies in Hertfordshire. Michael applied successfully for a nursing position at the Watford General Hospital but he had to do the normal shifts. The consulting career of Rafael was going extremely well. Actually he was earning more money than when he ran Trend Electronics. He had virtually no overheads, no humiliating meetings with the banks, no day-to-day problems, only doing what he loved best and did best. At the same time he was earning a substantial amount of money. He still drove his old Citroén on his weekly trips to North London and usually got back home before six in the evening. One thing Rafael insisted to the two boys was to maintain the family contact. Every weekend, Rafael would drive with the boys to meet-up with their sister Ruth and spend a few hours. Sometimes, they would pick up Ruth and drive to see one of the grandparents to a meal or for a cup of coffee. This was a family ritual which was observed with religious regularity. At least once a month Rafael would say, “Lets go and see mum!”, the whole family would visit the tiny memorial for Rachel at the North London Jewish Cemetery. One evening, during Michael’s night shift he was passing through one of the emergency wards and saw a very familiar face on the operating table. It did not take him long to recognise the face of his own father, and rushed inside. “Oh my God! What happened?” Michael questioned the paramedics. “Your father had got caught up in a multiple car accident on the M1 Motorway near Watford Junction and was in a critical state”, said one. 39

The doctors did every possible thing to save his life, but the injury to his head was so severe that even if he had lived, he would be in a state of vegetation. Michael immediately called Daniel over the telephone and asked him to come over to the hospital. Since Ruth was now considered a person with a confirmed state of mental disability, they did not see much point in dragging her into the picture. Then they called Rafaelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s parents in Wembley and Rachelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s parents in the East End of London to inform them of the accident. Arrangements were made for a quiet family funeral, since neither of the sons wanted to attract any unwarranted attention. The body of their father was interned next to that of their mother. Both Daniel and Michael decided to forego the traditional period of mourning, and simply to get on with their respective careers. And then there was a promise to keep. And that they vowed to keep. Avenge the R.A.T.S, the perpetrators! Soon the convicts would receive their remissions from the State, but not from Daniel and Michael Fellows. That was a promise!

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER TEN KILLING RATS - RUSSIAN STYLE

Following the death of their father, Michael and Daniel totally emmersed themselves in their respective careers. Through the good offices of Sinclair and Sugar, Michael managed to sell off all the testing equipment and machinery, and managed to recoup a good part of £50,000. Both Sinclair and Sugar paid off what was due to Rafael and on top included a nominal bonus, to show their respect and appreciation. They also informed the twins that their company doors were open to them, if ever they needed any support or assistance, in the future. One Saturday morning Emmanuel Freedman called to enquire how his grandsons were doing and to inform them that one of his dear old Russian Jewish friend who now lives in USA would like to meet with them at The Monk’s Farm. Reluctantly the brothers decided to respect their grandfather’s wish and invited both of them to a Sunday brunch. Ron Grossman was a typical New York orthodox Jew. He wore the traditional long black jacket and black trousers, white shirt and a black hat, and had a deep baritone voice which shook the old oak beams in the cottage. He had heard the entire history of forty five year´s from the grandfather. He started asking a few polite questions about the weather, the life in the farm, their professions and their future plans. Ron had left Leningrad in the late thirties, just before the World War 11, for New York via Rotterdam by ship. He was a sailor in the Soviet Merchant Marine fleet based in Leningrad. He had travelled the world. “Yes, my boy, there was anti-Semitism in those days too, but I did not have any problems, since I was a cook and the sailors were always respectful towards the cook” he roared. 41

“Otherwise one might find a cockroach or two in your borsch soup”, he said laughing loud in baritone. When Ron Grossman mentioned about R.A.T.S., he thought Ron was referring to the common rat and started on a story about rats. “Oh, those days and even now, our warehouses and storage rooms at the Leningrad harbour were inundated with hundreds of rats. Since there were so many warehouses and with the continuously rotating cargo and the vessels loading and discharging cargo, eliminating the rodent problem was next to impossible”, he went on. After clearing his throat, he lit a cigarette and continued, “The rat-traps worked a few times and then the rats became cleverer. Several cats were thrown in and they never came out. After a few weeks, the workers found the rotting carcasses of the cats amongst the crates of wheat”. “But for our Russian mind, the word impossible is only the beginning of a challenge. Under the Communist rule, everything was impossible, but the Soviet people were adept at improvisation. Necessity was the mother of invention” he thundered. Yuri Oganov, one of the Ship Captains at MinMorflot, Ministry of Shipping of USSR in the harbour had an idea. “Why don't we get a rat to kill a rat”. Being a seasoned sailor, a ship’s captain, a naval commando by training, with a triple Black Belt in Taekwondo, Karate and Judo, and an active member of the Communist Party, Yuri had been around. He was in charge of training special units on arduous survival exercises as well as unarmed combat killing. The demands made on him by his chosen career, turned him into an imaginative and a creative machine. During one of his terms as the Party Secretary in Novosibirsk in Siberia, Yuri had to supervise several projects. One was a mink farm. Since 42

during the winter months, which are about eight months in the year, food deliveries can be few and far between. Sometimes there were not adequate supplies to feed the humans, let alone the minks. “So Yuri invented a scheme to breed rats, in cages built above the mink cages. This way the rats may benefit from the heat radiated by the minks” he continued. “The meat of minks, after the fur coat was removed, would be given to the rats and rat meat would then be used to make fodder for the minks. The rat and mink droppings would then be mixed with old waste straw to make briquettes, which were used for heating the mink and rat farms”, the cycle worked perfectly, said Ron. After a successfully accomplishing his mission, Yuri spent three years in North Vietnam as the Third Secretary Merchant Marine at the Embassy of USSR. In Vietnam, rat flesh was a delicacy, but Yuri did not fancy indulging in such experiments. Yuri was a typical Russian. Meat for dinner, buckets of Vodka to wash it down, play his old guitar and a rumbustious woman for his dessert was his typical ideal menu. But one of problems was to ensure that the visiting Soviet fleets did not take any stowaway rats back to Leningrad. To solve the problem, Yuri had a brilliant concept. “Why don't we breed a killer rat and let him loose to kill the unwanted guests?” he asked one of his Vietnamese Captains. With the help of a few Vietnamese colleagues, Yuri captured one large black rat. Over the next few months, the rat was well fed with Oriental delicacies and fattened to about three times his original size. Then the rat was starved for a week and then a live baby rat 43

or a mouse, was thrown into its cage. For a few minutes the hungry rat did not move and simply observed the new young visitor. Then suddenly, pounced in a flash, it caught the little rat, ate its head first and then made a meal of it, from nose to tail. Then the rat was given a bit more food and water, and left to starve again, and then fed with one rat or mouse, at a time. This process was repeated over three months during which time the killer rat developed an exclusive taste for rat blood. Around the sixth month, as an experiment, the large rodent was released into a container with a half a dozen other rats of the same breed. Within a couple of days, the killer rat had devoured all his own breed. When Yuri returned to take up the position at the Leningrad Harbour, one of his first priorities was to rid the Harbour warehouses of the rodent vermin, using his Killer Rat principle. What an interesting story! Thought the two boys. Perhaps they could learn a thing or two from an old Russian sailor.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN BREEDING A KILLER

After the guests had left, Michael and Daniel walked out to the grounds. The farm was so secluded that no one driving on the narrow leafy Hyde Lane could see further than the thicket bushes grown around the perimetre as a fence. The locals who were mainly owner operators of their own small farms, who lived around, generally minded their own business. The eccentric Lord Arran simply galloped on his horse in the late afternoons. Michael had an idea. “First, Danny, you should procure two 20’ metal cargo containers whilst I would rent an excavator for a week and dig a vast hole in the ground, which can totally bury two containers. Then we breed Killer Rats!”. Both decided that the ground adjacent to the barn which their father used as a workshop would be an ideal site. Having discussed the plan in greater depth over a giant T-bone steak and a bottle of Mouton Cadet de Rothschild, both decided to start on the project with immediate effect. It took almost three days to dig out a pit deep and large enough to bury two twenty foot containers. After the containers were placed in position two apertures of one square metre on the top of the containers were be made, as entry points. One communicating hole was be cut between the two containers, with a vertical sliding closure which can be operated from the top. Both containers would then be fitted with heating, lighting, water and electric powered air extractor ventilation fans. The extractor fans to be located on the roof of the shed connected to the air extraction system in the workshop and shed. The holes on the floor of the containers would facilitate drainage. 45

The ventilation pipes were buried and the aperture of the duct was placed far away from the container site adjacent to a fireplace chimney flue from the old workshop. Over the following weeks, Michael and Daniel worked during their free time, dug out 150 cubic metres of earth, placed the two containers and covered them totally with earth. The balance of the 140 cubic metres of earth were dispersed amongst various areas within the farm grounds. Electricity was piped in, oil filled radiators, electric extractor ventilation, lighting were installed in both containers. A thick hose pipe was also buried together with the rest of the infrastructure. One container was gradually filled with debris from the farm, rotted tree stumps and turned into a prospective breeding and nesting point. The liftable top hatches were made into two trays, filled with earth, allowing weeds to take its natural course. Within six months, there was no sign of any disturbance to the farm land, since nature had taken care of the rest. The whole operation had cost less that £2000.00. The next programme needed more delicate planning. “How and where could we find rats, not those little white mice which kids kept as pets, but real black or brown big ones found in London’s underground sewers?”, asked Daniel. One of Michael’s colleagues at the hospital mentioned about a farm which supplied rabbits and mice to experimental laboratories. Daniel decided to pay a personal visit to this animal breeding farm but the farm maintained strict security, for the fear of Animal’s Rights protesters activity. Several times these activists had broken into breeding areas and had let the animals go free, which cost the farm many thousands of pounds. Daniel somehow managed to convince that a scientist friend of his who has a private research facility, would like to purchase 46

twenty female rats and five males from him. They could be either black or brown or preferably both, the same type of rats which were prevalent in the London’s underground sewers, would be preferable. He agreed to contact them in a fortnight. Two weeks later when Daniel called, he had good news, that the farm had procured twenty five of the biggest sewer rats from the London underground sewers and the cost would be £350.00 including one metal cage. As a precaution, Daniel had rented a van from Avis, and drove the newly acquired residents of The Monk’s Farm to their new home. Michael was in attendance when Daniel lowered the cage into the container and let the screaming rats into their new environments. Both Michael and Daniel decided that the sewer rats would be introduced into a meat diet from the beginning. Rats might take some time to get adjusted to a meat diet from their daily menu of raw sewage and other waste which came from their original habitat. but hunger can change many a habit in food. The best way to introduce rats into a new diet is to starve them, once Yuri had stated. So the starving process began. After five days, a five kilo piece of pork belly was slung into the container. After circling round the bloody chunk, the rats began to devour the pork with enthusiasm. Over the next few months they were introduced to various lumps of fresh offal. And the rats seem to enjoy their new diet. At the same time several females had given birth to litters. After another week of starvation, a live piglet was introduced into the den. It did not take very long to cull the screams of a piglet in pain, into silence. From there on, the rats, now multiplied to over sixty, were regularly subjected to periods of starvation and then fed with live animals. In order to protect the baby rats, Daniel got the larger adults to move into the second container, by introducing tasty delicacies such a lump of cheese. Then the sliding door was put in place, thus 47

segregating the nursing mothers from the wild and vicious males. The clever rats began to understand and accept the routine. Within six months, the rodent community in the containers had expanded to over several hundred in total and breeding.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER TWELVE THE HUNT

In August 1982 both James Powell and Geoff Jones were released from prison on parole. Both of them decided to stay together for a while until they settled into life after prison. Neither of them noticed the two men sitting inside a blue Ford Escort parked a decent thirty yards outside the main gate at Wandsworth Prison. One of their ex-prisoner friends had arranged to meet up with them upon their release. A Prisonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s welfare officer had kindly arranged a two roomed flat on top of a carpet warehouse in Chesham, where both had to report to a local parole officer. When James and Geoff got inside the Austin Mini, the Ford Escort started to follow the Mini, but keeping a respectable distance, drove all the way on the A40 to Chesham. Finding a place to live or work for an ex-convict was not easy. Partly on unemployment benefit and a few odd jobs as window cleaners, van delivery drivers, kept both James and Geoff from above the water line of survival. Apart from their weekly reporting to their parole officer, both men had more free time than anything else, and they made Plough Inn, the old wooden beamed country pub, a couple of miles from their flat as their second home. The Plough Inn was the local to many of the residents in this pretty Buckinghamshire village. During the daytime, it was pretty quiet except for a few retired locals who dropped in for a drink. Being off the main artery, not many passing motorists decided to venture into the homely public house. But in the evening and indeed every evening, the locals would come over for a drink or for a game of darts, which gave a communal atmosphere to the old beams. After a few months of regular visits, Geoff and James became a part of the pub scene. Except the landlord, who received a discreet call from 49

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the parole officer about the background of the two men, no one else knew of the past history of Geoff and James. It was in the pub, over a pint of Fullers Bitter, James heard of a possible full time opportunity of working as an assistant to a plumber. Since James had been an apprentice plumber before being a guest of Her Majesty’s Prisons, his application was successful. It was convenient for James to work from Chesham, nearer the flat, and attend to calls from customers from the neighbouring villages. Occasionally he might be expected to help in a house removal and remove the dish washer or a washing machine and replace or reinstall it in a newer location. In January 1984, James began to work independently as a plumber at Chesham Heating, Ventilation & Plumbing Contractors Ltd and he was given his own set of wheels, a Bedford van with the livery of the company emblazoned on both sides of the vehicle. In the meantime, Geoff Jones started working as a minicab driver for a company based in Watford. “Evening all” he would yell with a charming smile. A few pints and a game of darts at the Plough Inn after work was as routine as sun rising from the East for Geoff. Occasionally both met after work for a pint or two at the Plough Inn before they went to their flat above the carpet wholesaler, to cook their favourite Heinz Baked Beans, Sausage, Eggs with toast. Neither of them had noticed that over the past eighteen months the face of a tall man with dark hair, usually standing at the bar in the Lounge area, looking into the darts players in the Bar area. Around ten o’clock, James threw his last dart and bade good night to his fellow drinkers and walked out of the pub into the drizzling autumn night. As he approached his van he noticed the white Ford Transit parked very close to his Bedford van. 50

“What a fucking idiot? Parking a motor so close” he muttered to himself as he was walking sideways between the two vans to open the driver’s door of his van. Suddenly the side door of the Transit slid open and in a split second, James Powell was hauled inside. With the mouth gagged, a quick jab from a hypodermic needle was almost painless, when James flaked out. Whilst the Transit was driven gently towards Watford, in the direction of Hyde Lane Kings Langley, a good thirty minutes towards the destination. Whilst the van was moving at a steady speed, second man bound and gagged James, and put a black hood over his face. When James recovered from his disorientation, he found himself stripped naked, bound hands and feet, with the mouth taped. He started to mutter “Where am I?” through his gag. The surroundings were dimly lit. It was a huge room with a high roof line. In the far end he could see a door. Just then the door opened and two men walked in. “Who are you?” asked James in a muffled voice. “What do you want?” he continued trying to shake off his gag. Neither men answered. Instead they walked towards James. Lifted him by his shoulders and started to drag him towards the door. Outside the barn door, they frog-marched James another thirty to forty meters until they reached the top of one of the containers. With James left standing by himself, the two men lifted the lid of the container. The stench of the rats urine and decomposing droppings were not something one wishes to experience for more than a few seconds. Inside the dimly lit container, the hungry rats were eagerly awaiting the introduction of a live piglet or something similar. 51

Instead, the two brothers got hold of James by his arms and lowered him into the flashing white teeth of the hungry rats. James tried to scream. Tears were running down from both eyes. In fear he could not but contain the urination. The two boys closed the aperture placed the lid into position. Screams and muffled sounds coming out of the container could not even be heard from where the boys stood, a few metres from the top. The sound insulation was good. Michael looked at Dan. They were quite satisfied with their first project. And more to come! Around five o’clock the same evening, just about to call it a day, a well dressed middle aged lady approached Geoff outside the Watford Railway Station, and asked him, “Would you please drive me to London Gatwick Airport to pickup my sister and return us back to Watford?” That was going to be a decent fare. “Certainly ma’am” said Geoff, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the door for the lady. “Going to cost you twenty five quid, if that is okay with you”. Driving out of Watford was easy, but once they reached the North Circular Road, the road traffic snarl started almost to a crawl. “I can’t understand for the love of God why do they have to dig up the North Circular every day of the year”, said Geoff overtaking a truck with a trailer behind it. “Well I cannot drive. Never learnt, dear. But my two sons drive and they have their company cars. Unfortunately neither of them could make it today” muttered the old dear. Just then a silver Mercedes carved up in front of Geoff and Geoff had to apply brakes swiftly to avoid a collision. 52

“Fucking son of a bitch. Bloody lunatic in a Merc. Think they own the fucking road”, said a furious Geoff. With the routine traffic, Geoff arrived at the airport and the lady disembarked into the arrivals hall. After about ten minutes, she returned to a waiting Geoff and said, “Sorry young man, the flight is about one hour late due to bad weather. But could you please wait?” Geoff although was not overjoyed, but waiting means a few extra pounds, replied, “Its ok lady, I can wait”. For an extra tenner, the drinks and a game of darts with James can wait. Little did he know around the same time, James was being carved out alive by a horde of starving rats. Inside the dark damp container James was rolling all over the floor, covered in rat refuse, rotting flesh of earlier victims. He managed to get himself loose but could not see any thing and was totally disoriented. “Jesus Christ! Oh God, please help. Why are you doing this to me?” cried James. But the rats did not understand one word of it. The rats, in the meantime were making a meal of James. Parts of his flesh being mauled by scissor-like teeth of rats large and small, screaming, running all over the body, indicated to James that the end of the world was nigh! Geoff did the return trip to Watford just before ten o’clock. A generous tip of an extra ten pounds from the old dear for the delay due to the late arrival of the flight from Alicante, put a smile on to Geoff’s face. By the time Geoff reached Chesham, it was almost eleven at night, closing time for most pubs, and Geoff decided to drive straight to his flat. He was a bit puzzled to notice that the lights in the flat were off, but after two beers he fell asleep in front of the TV. The warning sounds on the TV woke Geoff 53

up around two am and he simply switched the TV off and slumped into his bed. Usually it was James who woke-up first before seven and put the kettle to boil on the gas stove. The whistle on the stove would generally wake Geoff up. Being still under the prison training, Geoff stared into the ceiling waiting to hear the whistling noise of the boiling kettle. By seven thirty, Geoff had a feeling that something had gone wrong, got out of his bed, still in his blue Levi jeans and a Marks & Spencer jumper, peeped into James’ tiny bedroom. The bed, which was never made up, was in its usual untidy mess. Peering through the kitchen window, Geoff did not notice the Bedford parked in its usual parking spot. Still puzzled, Geoff walked down the creaking staircase to the side door, picked up his bottle of milk, made himself a cup of tea and helped himself to a breakfast of Weetabix. “Perhaps James got himself lucky and found a floozie for the night”, he muttered to himself. But as a rule, he rarely stayed over night. Or maybe he went out on a job out of town, which is quite rare. Whenever he stayed overnight, he informed Geoff by calling his minicab office. Perhaps he had tried and since Geoff did not go to his office due to his late finishing, he did not receive the message. Millions of different thoughts spirited through his mind. Anyway, Geoff wanted to keep to his work schedule and to report by 8.30 to hand over the cash to the cashier, a formality. At the same time he could check about James. With nothing to hear, Geoff drove to the railway station, parked his mini cab at his usual slot, bought himself a copy of The Daily Mirror and lit his Woodbine cigarette. There were always a few Japanese or other foreign businessmen coming from London or the Midlands visiting some of the numerous industrial estates clattered around Watford. Sometimes Geoff 54

picked-up a time contract fare, meaning a booking for a return trip, driving the guests around and earned a good tip on top, specially from the Japs who were quite liberal with the five pound notes. But that wet Friday was not one of those lucky days. A few local fares and Geoff decided to call it a day around four in the afternoon. Usually Friday is the best day of the week. After a hot bath, both Geoff and James would find a corner in the local Indian restaurant, The Star of India, for a Madras Chicken Curry washed down with a couple of Heineken beers. Although Geoff and James hated the Indians and used to go around “Paki bashing” with the gang, in their pre-prison days, they loved the hot spicy food. The Basmati rice, Chicken Curry, Lentils with spinach and a half a dozen pappadoms would set a firm base for a nights drinking. Opening the door of the flat he noticed that the mail was still lying on the floor and there was no sign of James returning to the flat. Although puzzled, Geoff went on with his routine of his weekly bath, the change of underwear and slipped into a pair of denims and a jumper to match. After a generous dousing from a cheap Gillette After shave all over his body, with a cigarette stuck between his lips, having left a note for James asking him to either come to the Star of India or to the Plough Inn, and Geoff headed for his favourite curry house. The service at Star of India was always one of politeness and when Geoff was shown into a corner table for two, he was surprised to find Elton John sitting at the far end with two officials from the Watford Football Club, where Elton was the Chairman. Next to Elton John’s table, there were two other tables occupied by several large minders. That put off Geoff from walking upto Elton to ask for his autograph. Geoff knew that some of these minders who had spent a few spells inside the prisons, are not known for their tender and gentle handling characteristics. 55

Geoff had the misfortune of bumping into some of these body builders inside Wandsworth Prison and almost had his nose flattened and lost several of his front teeth. He was not in a mood to get his new dentures replaced, and delved into his Chicken Madras in earnest. After finishing his second lager and a few de-winding noisy burps, a ten pound note on the table, Geoff was ready to take on the world, at the Plough Inn. As he turned his minicab into the parking place at the Plough Inn, Geoff was extremely pleased to see James’ van sitting outside. Without a second thought he whipped his car right next to the Bedford, locking the door behind him, Geoff strode into the bar. Looking around the crowded noisy bar, he ordered a pint of Watney’s Bitter and looked around. The drinkers were busy chatting, the dart players were in a competitive mood, but James was no where to be seen. “Hullo mate,” he said to one of the darts players, “seen Jamie laddie about?”, and the player nodded his head indicating negative. The Plough Inn had three different drinking areas. The Bar, was usually patronised by the working class, beer drinking loud mouths who sat on wooden stools and of course the drinks were a bit cheaper. The Lounge Bar, furnished with seats covered in fabric upholstery, entertained a better and an affluent class of patronage. These patrons generally went for Gins with tonic, Scotch with Dry Ginger and for an array of wines. Of course the ladies sported the latest fancy designer trinkets, held their heads high and spoke with an pseudo-upper class accent and guzzled down white wines and Babychams. The young men sported their best and drove around in fancy sports cars or Range Rovers. Then adjoining to this Lounge was a small dining area where the menu comprised of a variety of wild fowl, pheasant, grills, salads and sandwiches, normally patronised by the local elderly clientele. But 56

everybody had to share the same foul smelling common toilets, situated just outside, at the rear of the Plough Inn. Rough but equal democratic justice. After his second pint, Geoff began to get worried. He walked to the rear of the pub, looked into the toilets, peeped into the other areas of the pub, not having seen James, Geoff began to ask a few questions from their common acquaintances. Yes, of course, James was drinking till about ten o’clock the previous day but no had seen him since then. None of them had seen him talking to any of the women who usually hang around and they all thought that James went out by himself. The new information got Geoff really worried. It was too late to enquire from the company where James had worked. Geoff, on his way out, told a few of his acquaintances about his thoughts, took another good look at James’ Bedford van and drove home. That night Geoff could not sleep a wink. After a couple of beers and a large whisky, Geoff hit the sack, thinking about his next move. First thing on Saturday morning, Geoff reported to his work place and explained his predicament. The owner, Charlie, himself an ex-convict, suggested that Geoff went and reported the matter to the Police at High Wycombe and called on his parole officer. The policeman who listened to Geoff’s story was not that enthusiastic about the disappearance of an exmurderer, but typed the standard missing persons report just the same. Afterwards, Geoff called on the owner of Chesham Heating, Ventilation & Plumbing Contractors Ltd and told about his predicament, then drove with the owner to collect the van from outside the Plough Inn. Several weeks passed away, without police getting on any further with their enquiries. As far as the police were concerned, having interviewed everybody present on that Thursday at the Plough Inn, the police came to a dead end. There was no evidence of violence. The Bedford van was not 57

tampered with and was locked. James had no problems at his work either. James had little or no contact with his family and relatives. The disappearance was a mystery. The weeks turned into months and Geoff gradually got used to living alone by himself.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE LAST FARE TO HYDE LANE

The two occupants at The Monk’s Farm went on with their daily routine. The mild English winter had allowed all the shrubs to leaf out early, the birds had nested and were teaching the young ones to fend for themselves. The wild shrubs around the patch where the two containers lay were well covered and any stranger would not have given the site any consideration. The feeding of the colony of rats was a once a week affair and Michael generally tended to their needs. He made it very certain that he would not leave a trace of a permanent foot path and always took different routes to the hatch. The preoccupation with his copy of The Daily Mirror or The Evening Standard did not allow Geoff to notice a young man who regularly studied Geoff almost daily, after parking his Ford Escort in the car park, both in the morning and then again around five-ish. It was May and the English spring was at its best. when a young man dressed sporting non-exclusive casual gear, a light beige raincoat, gloved hands, approached Geoff’s minicab. “Are you able to drive me to drop off a parcel at Kings Langley?” he enquired. “Sure thing. That’s what I am here for, mate. Hop in!” said Geoff. It was just before five in the evening. Since the drive was on his way towards his flat, Geoff agreed. Taking the side road, the man asked Geoff to go past the Kings Langley railway station to pickup a friend who would arrive at around five thirty. After a fifteen minute wait, the friend arrived and climbed into the rear seat and settled with the other. Carving through the narrow winding country lane, the first 59

man instructed Geoff, “Could you please take the first turning to the right, after passing under the railway bridge, into Hyde Lane”. Driving past a few post-war built detached and semi-detached houses, the narrow winding secluded Hyde Lane carved its way through several farms and stables. Not many passenger vehicles drive through Hyde Lane, mostly are four-wheel drive Land Rovers or the farm tractors, crossing from one farm to another. After the first mile, the stench of horse droppings and the odour of the pig farms filled the air. No one noticed the Ford Cortina driving into Monk’s Farm just before six in the evening. The first man at the back requested Geoff to drive straight upto one of the farm buildings. As the car came to a halt, the first man pulled a piece of rope and with the speed of lightning, wrapped it twice around Geoff’s throat and pulled it back towards the rear seat. Struggling and in a state of shock, Geoff tried to scream, but could not get a sound out of his mouth. Just then the second man, twisted Geoff’s left arm towards the back, pulled out a hypodermic syringe from his little black bag and stabbed the contents into Geoff’s vein. The struggling simmered to a halt within ten to fifteen seconds. The driver’s door opened and Geoff was gently lifted out by the two men and placed on the floor, inside one of the barns. By the time Geoff woke up, he found himself tied in a manner which brought him back memories. His feet were tied together with one end of the rope which then coiled around his neck with the other end tying his hands to his back. Any sudden movement would tighten the noose round his neck. There was a piece of fabric stuck in his mouth, and the mouth was taped with insulation tape. This was exactly how he helped Chris Edwards in 1974, approximately twelve years to date, “to tie that Jew”, and made him to watch his fifteen year old handicapped sister being gang raped by four men. 60

As a bolt of lightning, the scene of a sobbing helpless woman being awarded with a karate kick which sent the helplessly bound body flying into the kitchen sink, flashed through his mind. The thud of her head crashing against the edge of the sink, the noise of the skull cracking, blood gushing out of the split, the two young twin boys frozen with fear, tears running down their cheeks, the middle aged Jew turning blue in fear, all flashed, in slow-motion, second after second. The biggest criminals and murderers are the worst of all the cowards. Most of them live in absolute fear. Geoff began to come out in cold sweat. He could hear some noises of horses, pigs and other animals. He remembered him driving past several farms and recognised the smell of animal dung. Apart from that no sound of any human beings. Geoff was so frightened that he could not hold his urine. He began urinate all over his trousers. It was dark inside and quite dark outside when the door of the old barn creaked open. Michael, after the sun had set, had driven the mini cab to its parking point, locked the doors and had thrown the keys into a nearby drain, then doubled back to the Monk’s Farm in his own car. In the shadows of darkness, stood the twins Michael and David. Michael approached Geoff, pulled him by his right arm, took out a hypodermic syringe and gave him another jab. “Remember us?” Michael asked. Watching helplessly, Geoff felt no pain, but after a few seconds, he felt quite wobbly and weak. The tongue felt like an old newspaper, speechless and the vision was blurred. David then began to untie the man, stretched him on the floor and began to remove all his clothes. Then he retied Geoff’s hands to the back and tied his feet which allowed him to stand up and walk. Still conscious but extremely weak, 61

Geoff tried to get some noises out without any success. Helped by Michael and David, Geoff was frog-marched towards the rear of the barn, where a side door led to a patch covered by wild grass. Naked physically and also with fear, the sensation of stepping on wet grass barefooted, was something new. The air outside was damp and filled with the mixed odours of typical farming country air. Right on the middle of the patch, David and Michael bent over to lift a hatch which was about one square metre. The hatch was more like a wooden box and seemed to be heavy. As it was opened, the strange noises like a million bats fighting, screaming, and the overpowering stench filled the already foul smelling air. David kicked the back of the knees of Geoff so hard that whilst kneeling he almost fell into the pit. What Geoff saw, made his stomach run. He tried to vomit but he could not due to the tape masking his mouth. The bottom of the container was littered with bones, skulls and other remnants of animals. Hundreds of rotting joints and rats were crawling all over on them. Right in the middle were human remains, a complete human skeleton, without any flesh, overrun by a million screaming black and brown rats. “Oh God!”, he said to himself. That must be his friend James lying without his flesh, at the bottom. All this time not a sound was uttered by either Michael or David. Geoff knew roughly what his fate might be and he wanted to beg for mercy, but he could not utter a word or move his palms together. Tears began to run down his both cheeks, just like he saw on the faces of the two young boys, when Chris was raping the poor Jewish girl. The rats began to scream and were running round the metal container, trying to crawl up the sides. The stench of rotted flesh mixed with the rat urine and droppings, was overpowering. 62

Michael and David took their position on either side of Geoff, Michael pulled out a razor blade, slashed the side of Geoffâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s leg, as blood began to run, the twins lifted him up by his arms and lowered him into the container. Even before Geoff hit the bottom, the screaming rats were flying onto the naked body of Geoff and started to tear off chunks of his legs, thighs and the lower parts of his body. With a thud Geoff landed on the floor of the humid container which was thick with debris and gung. The dim lighting inside the container showed him that he was in for a slow and a painful death. Every time he tried to stand up, he slipped back on to the slimy floor. The sharp carnivorous teeth of the hungry rats gorged into the human flesh off a screaming Geoff. Lifting the hatch gently, Michael and David, placed the hatch into its position and walked into the outbuilding. Carefully, both boys took all the worldly possessions and clothing of Geoff and inserted one by one into the wood burning stove. Soaked in petrol, mixed with some other rubbish and twigs, the jeans and the jumper with the underwear were reduced to ashes. Having washed their hands with hot water and detergent, David locked the door of the barn behind Michael and together they walked towards the cottage. Without a word being said or any ounce of emotion shown, David poured Michael a large tumbler of Chivas Regal Scotch, helped himself into one and started to watch The Benny Hill Show.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER FOURTEEN TWO DOWN AND TWO TO GO

Her Majestyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Strangeways High Security Prison harboured some of the most notoriously dangerous criminals of Britain. Many of the convicted IRA terrorists spent a spell at Strangeways prior to being moved into a prison in Northern Ireland. The convicts, like in all prisons throughout the world, had their own well established rules and operated their own hierarchal system. They also had an excellent network of communications which fed them with all the relevant information they required to control their outside business activity and personal operations from within the security of the prison walls. Chris Edwards had heard some stories of James and Geoff, specially about their rehabilitation into normal civil life. The fact that neither of them had written to Chris or visited him in Manchester, caused him some distress and disappointment. He thought, as the leader of the cell, the patron, who took care of his gang both during good times and bad, deserved a bit of respect and attention. The last time they saw face to face was immediately after the sentencing, just as each of the defendants was being handcuffed and loaded into different Black Maria Prison vans. The first two years in various prisons were rough. Both Chris and Don received the rough end of the prison justice. The unwritten Code of Conduct in many British prisons, the convicts themselves look down upon child molesters, killers of policemen, sex perverts and especially on child rapists. Specially when the inmates learnt that the sixteen year old Ruth Freedman was mentally handicapped and reduced to a permanent state of vegetation through severe mental disorder, the fellow convicts decided to take severe punitive actions. During the first month, Chris had all his front teeth knocked off. Several times he was subjected to knife attacks and whilst 64

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in the shower, and an end of a toilet brush was stuck into his anal canal. His requests for a solitary confinement fell into deaf ears. He could not get a peaceful nights sleep, many a night he found strange objects in his bed. He was living in fear. His fellow cell mates did not hide the fact that Chris was in for a long haul and a hard time. One morning, when Chris entered the wash room, he was subjected to a mock trial and several sentences of guilt were passed on him. One of the inmates ordered several others to hold Chris against the shower wall, and said, “The initial punishment for raping an underage and a mentally handicapped young girl is that that your penis will be slashed”. “Hear, hear” echoed the rest in unison. Two convicts from a group of over fifty were ordered by the judicial panel to place Chris against one of the walls. Whilst he was being held, another convict was ordered to slice a piece of Chris’ penis with a razor blade. The burning sensation and the excruciating pain, the flow of blood, made Chris faintish, against the background of howls of laughter and jeers. As the two men holding Chris released their grip, letting Chris fall onto the slippery floor, one of the inmates warned Chris, “If ever you uttered a word of this incident, your entire penis along with the testicles would be sliced off, with the meat cleaver, at the first available opportunity” and then he left. “Oh Gawd! Shit! On no!” cried Chris, holding on to his damaged organ. Writhing in pain Chris fell on to the blood soaked floor and one of the convicts ordered Chris to clean up the floor before 65

leaving the wash room. It took a long time for the flow of blood to stop. Tearing a piece from his towel to bandage his penis, Chris having washed the floor, limped into the prison dining room, where all the convicts greeted him with howls of laughter. The reception Chris received from the prisoners from the beginning, confused him. He expected that the majority of the prisoners to be racists and expected to find himself a convenient slot. After all, his actions were directed at a Jewish family, because he was convinced that Britain would be a far better place without the vermin. Strangely enough, Chris did not find too many of the inmates who shared his views and sympathised with his convictions. He found to his greatest regret that most of the convicts found him repulsive for committing his distasteful, vulgar and inhumane act on a helpless sick child. Several times Chris had his mattress slashed. Almost daily he received verbal abuse from his fellow inmates. Occasionally, a passing inmate would knee-butt his crotch or twist his penis. More than physical pain or abuse, he felt that he was being unjustly treated for acting on behalf of the British society. Being an ardent follower of Enoch Powell, Chris tried to preach the Powell doctrine of banning foreigners into England, only to fall on deaf ears.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE ROUGH END IN COOKING

In another part of a different British prison, Don Carpenter received a different treatment. He naturally received the traditional welcoming beating during the first six months. Since he sported good looks, a youngish looking fresh face, he became the target of the prison’s homosexual community. Many of the homosexuals made various lewd suggestions continuously, which Don decided to ignore. “Lets spend the night together” by the Rolling By another pop group tones or “Be my Baby” were whistled continuously around his ears. Whenever he visited the library, several of the homosexuals sat around him, touched his thighs and the crotch, which Don found repulsive. He avoided going to the toilets by himself since several times groups of the homosexuals pinned him against the wall, tried to sexually assault him. A couple of times, several huge black West Indians came to his rescue and Don felt grateful for their intervention. When the West Indian cook approached Don, “Hey man, you wanna be my helper in the kitchen, wudtchya like to?” he asked. Don accepted the offer without any hesitation. He thought that he could rely on the giant black muscleman for his personal security. The Rastafarian gang leader Trevor Dunn with his beaded dreadlocks arrived in Britain from Jamaica some eight years back. He was selected to front an international drug trafficking ring in London, since he had an excellent cover as the leader of a reggae musical band. During a six year period, he played with his band in several night clubs exclusively patronised by the London’s black community, in the London’s West End. In between his sets, he would mix amongst the selected guests to 67

discuss various deals on the distribution of narcotics throughout the UK. His active role as a musician gave him a perfect cover and he exercised caution to the extent that the Police Drug Squads could not lay a finger on him for almost six years. After the club closed, usually around four o’clock in the morning, he would drive his VW Passat Estate to his basement flat off Portobello Road in the Notting Hill area of West End of London. As a well known homosexual, he did not find it difficult to find suitable amiable company within the club scene. Trevor did neither have the time nor the inclination to have a steady companion, mainly for security reasons. He was afraid that the Police might intercept and persuade his companion to compromise on Trevor. Therefore Trevor went for ad hoc solutions to satisfy his carnal needs. One night Trevor could not miss the attractive new face on the dance floor, a young Moroccan who had the rhythm as well as a firm muscular body. Several times he was picked up by other known homosexuals and danced in front of the band, in a provocative manner. At the break of one set, Trevor oozing with self confidence, walked upto the dancer and, “Hey man, let me get you a drink” and pointed at the bar. “Thank you. Hey kinda like your music”, said the young Moroccan sipping a Vodka and orange juice. There was an immediate mutual attraction. Just before the start of the next set, “Hey man, why dontcha and I get together after the session and you can tell me awll aboutcha”, said Trevor inviting Saleh to join him for a drink at his flat after he finished his playing. Both agreed to meet behind the club where Trevor had his VW parked. 68

As agreed, Saleh the young Moroccan was standing next to the VW when Trevor approached the motor. Trevor gave a hug to his companion and as he was about to open the driver’s door, when two men jumped onto Trevor from the shadows. Coming from a Caribbean gangland background, Trevor knew how to handle himself. In the Caribbean, for the poor blacks, life is one long struggle. A flick knife is part of your life, since life may depend on that. As the two assailants jumped, Trevor took one step sideways and launched a karate kick from the heal of his boot, right between the thighs of the first assailant. Simultaneously, he grabbed the back of the neck and crunched the assailants chin onto his knee. As the first assailant crumbled to the ground, Trevor lifter his left foot and pulled out a six inch stainless steel blade which he always carried inside his boot for emergencies and plunged it to the neck of the second assailant. Several dozen passers by gathered to witness the free-for-all and the mayhem attracted the attention of a passing Police patrol. In the midst of the furore, the young Moroccan disappeared into the London morning hazy smog. Trevor did not resist arrest and surrendered voluntarily to the Police. The Police believed his story and so did the Magistrate, of self defence. But nevertheless, Trevor was convicted for carrying a dangerous weapon and causing grievous bodily harm, and received a three year sentence at Brixton Prison. “There is no such thing as a free lunch”, goes a common business saying. When Don took up Trevor’s offer to act as a kitchen help, he did not suspect what return favours Trevor would demand of him. The first few days, Don did the usual pealing of potatoes, tidying up the kitchen tables and general help to the other cooks. Don felt very safe and secure in the kitchen and moreover, he enjoyed the possibility of tucking into the odd snack in between cooking. 69

The fifth day, Trevor without looking at Don growled, “Hey man, gimme a hand with the sacks”. Trevor led the way and unlocked the large metal door and let Don in, and then closed the door behind them. Without any warning the big black Rastafarian pushed Don to the floor and stripped the trousers off him. “Oh no! Not you too”, in a state of shock and terrified with fear, Don did not put up any resistance. Trevor simply lifted Don and turned on his stomach, pulled his own pants down and performed anal sex with him for a good part of ten minutes. As the massive penis crashed through Don’s anus, the pain made Don to squeeze the sacks of flour around him. The wild animal like performance of Trevor, sweating profusely, complete with full audio back up of grunting and hissing noises, petrified Don. “Okidoki man, get up and pull up your pants” snarled the big black man and handed him a sack of flour. It was pretty obvious to the rest of the convicts working in the kitchen that it did not take thirty minutes to fetch a sack of flour. With the sack on his shoulder, Don walked into the kitchen, to receiving a few knowing nods and winks from the other kitchen staff. For Don, he did not know whether he had jumped from the frying pan, onto the fire. Carrying a sack of flour became a daily routine for Don and he knew what to expect from the Rastafarian. Within a few days, the entire prison community knew of the saga of the sack and sex, in the kitchen store. However none of the inmates or the prison staff wanted to interfere with the ongoing sex orgy between Trevor and Don. A month had passed and the daily sex routine was getting on top of Don and he considered a diplomatic way out. Whilst one of the senior cooks was making a cauldron of soup, Don decided to create an incident 70

by tipping the cauldron accidentally onto several other kitchen helpers. “Hey, watch it, you little shit bag! Bloody hell, you almost cooked that geezer alive”, shouted one of the helpers. A scuffle broke out, followed by a fight and Don received several knife wounds on his arm and stomach. Don was rushed to the Prison hospital and was detained for ten days. Upon his release from the hospital, Don was assigned duties in the library. Now that Don was not under the patronage of Trevor, the other homosexual gangs moved on him. Several times he was gang raped in the wash rooms by groups of homosexuals and was obliged to perform various degrading sexual acts simultaneously. Twice Don appealed to the Prison authority for safer duties and possible solitary confinement, but his requests fell into deaf ears. And both times, when the other inmates learnt of Don’s appeal, the convicts committee awarded immediate and severe punishment to Don. “Listen pretty boy, you wanna know what your crippled boss is getting these days, ah?” Don was also given a detailed account of the punishment awarded to his cell leader Chris at the Strangeways and was told in no uncertain terms that similar punishment would be delivered to him in due course. Where ever Don went, he was harassed by the inmates, with jeers, funny cat calls, hisses, wolf whistles. “Nice little arse you got, you white Nigger fucker”,

Whenever Don was surrounded by several inmates, he would be subjected to pinching on his bottom or touching his genitals. Unable to put up with this kind of stress, Don considered committing suicide several times. As said earlier, most criminals fear death, especially painful death. Don did not fancy the thought of an unsuccessful end to an attempted suicide bid. The bottom line was that, the tough talking, black leather clad Harley Davidson motor cycle riding racist after all, was a simple coward.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER SIXTEEN WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

Chris, despite his problems at Strangeways, found himself a quiet position within the Prison library. This privilege gave him access to a wide array of newspapers, periodicals and especially the back issues. Most of all he had the time to read. In one of the issues of a provincial newspapers, he read a small article about the disappearance of a Watford taxi driver Geoff Jones. Also in the same article, there were a few lines about his flat mate James Powell who had vanished a few months before. Apart from mentioning that both men had prison records, no other details were given. This was rather disturbing news to Chris. According to what he gathered, the Police did not take the disappearances too seriously. Having received a well balanced training, first from the German terrorists and then from the Soviets, Chris began to weigh the past events and his own immediate future. The only other person in his cell who did not participate in the attack on the Freedman family was Julie Evans. Just a week before the attack, she came off the pillion of Chris’s Harley Davidson and damaged her collar bone. When she heard of the incident and the following Police enquiries leading to the arrest of her four colleagues, Julie went underground. This was part of their training instructions. Although she followed the murder trial, Julie remained quietly in the background maintaining a low profile. In their hay days, Julie often rode on the pillion of Chris’s Harley Davidson. Although it was explicitly forbidden to have any inter-personal-relationships between the cell members, both Julie and Chris often engaged in sexual intercourse. It was not love but pure unadulterated sex, which both consumed with vigour. Chris had a special spot for Julie from the time he met her in a 73

pub in Bletchley, where she worked as a barmaid. The smiling red head with a freckled face immediately attracted him. “How are my traffic lights doing today” Chris would say, referring to her bright red hair. He was on a campaign of seeking suitable recruits to start his own cell team. Chris felt that Julie would fit the bill and perhaps even more. “How about you and me getting together one night?” he asked casually. “And what will you do with me all night?” Julie responded. Over a few regular visits and a few beers at the bar gave Chris the opportunity to test Julie on her attitudes towards the central principles of R.A.T.S. One evening after work, Chris picked Julie up and rode towards the London West End. He had already reserved a double room in a cheap hotel off Sussex Gardens. “See our beautiful London is packed with bloody foreigners. Blackies, Pakis and slit-eyed Chinkies. I think they all should get a touch of my black boot on their frigging arses” And Julie nodded. After a hearty meal of Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding, washed down with buckets of Lager, and a short walk on the Bayswater Road, they both turned left towards their hotel. Chris had already pulled out a small bottle of Gordons Gin and several bottles of Schweppes Tonic Water. After a large drink or two both hit the sheets for an hour long passionate sex. After selection, each member of R.A.T.S. had to undergo the basic training and induction programme. After a period of video based education, the members received a comprehensive course in unarmed combat, investigation, 74

trailing, tailing, recruitment etc. A few selected members would then be identified for special tasks such as the use of light arms, handheld weapons, side arms, explosives and other related terrorist activity. After a few months, Chris invited Julie again for a night out in London. Over a juicy Scottish steak and a few beers, Chris asked Julie if she would like to join the organisation which he belonged to. He stressed the importance of maintaining “England - Only for the English”. Julie had considered the problems of immigration in Britain many a time and felt that the problem had to be sorted out sooner than later. She had nothing personal against the Jews or the coloured, when that subject was raised by Chris. However she was in agreement that the domineering position of Jews in business and commercial world has gone too far. The English Heritage must be protected, she agreed. After spending a memorable night at the same small hotel in Sussex Gardens, Julie agreed to join R.A.T.S. Although the investigating Police officers and Mossad operatives knew of Julie’s role in the gang, they decided to leave Julie under observation. They thought that by leaving her alone, she might lead them to another operative cell. But they were wrong. Julie had no other contacts. After the assailants were convicted, Julie visited Chris Evans in Prison, several times under an assumed name. Each time, she was discreetly followed by Special Branch officers. Unknown to the Special Branch at Scotland Yard, the Mossad operatives kept their own private programme of surveillance through the services of private investigators. Although Julie was somewhat in love with Chris during their working association, the distance, the circumstances and the financial problems made the feelings go colder by the day. After a period, the telephone calls were reduced to a letter or 75

two per month. Then an odd postcard was all the time and effort Julie could afford. She had her own life to lead and she felt that time was running out fast. After four years in prison, Chris did rarely hear from Julie. And Chris had just about overcome his own problems in Prison and getting used into the Prison routine. For four years Julie tried her best to find herself a decent job. Each time after the first interview, she either received a polite note of refusal or no letter at all. She was getting tired of seeking part time and odd jobs continuously. For a short time, she came over to London during the week and frequented the main hotels, seeking punters for a night and worked as a prostitute. Julie knew very well the risks she was taking. Many of the top London hotels are serviced by well organised gangs. The porters and the doormen are all working in collusion with the operators. One evening whilst Julie was hanging around at the Cumberland Hotel Lobby Bar near Marble Arch, a well dressed middle aged man approached her. “Are you staying at this hotel, young lady?” “Not really. But that depends”, she said with a smile. “Fancy a drink or something?” he asked. “A Gin & Tonic with a squeeze of lemon, please” she smiled. “My name is Paul and I am staying the night at the Kensington Hilton” said he, extending his hand towards Julie. “Hi, I am Julie, from Norwich. Lost in the big city looking for work”, shaking his damp limp hand. This was the usual prelude to the next step. After a polite conversation lasting no more than ten minutes, “I am absolutely famished. Do you feel like having something to eat? I know a little place off Cromwell Road. They do a lovely roast” 76

Julie accepted. They both left the Hotel taking the side entrance of Cumberland Hotel, since the man said that he had parked his car around the corner. Just behind the hotel, the man pointed Julie to a BMW motorcar and Julie jumped into the passenger seat. The man drove round the Marble Arch into Hyde Park towards Serpentine and stopped near the horse riders track. Two men who were driving behind the BMW in an old Jaguar, pulled over, forced Julie out of the car. One of the men pushed Julie against a tree, pulled out his razor and slashed Julie’s face on both cheeks. As a passing remark, one of the men whispered softly into Julie’s ear, “Stay away from Our Patch, you cheap little slut!”. Julie got the point. There is no freedom anywhere. Either it is the Police or the bloody Mafia. Her whole faced covered in blood, all her clothes soaked red, Julie staggered onto Bayswater Road and hailed a taxi. The kindly taxi driver drove her to St. Stephen’s Hospital emergency unit in Chelsea, and Julie spent the rest of the night on a hospital bed. That put an end to Julie’s ex-tempo ad hoc business ventures outside her parent’s home town of Norwich. For sometime Julie remained unemployed and lived on unemployment and social services benefits. It was one of those lucky accidents when her father invited her to accompany him on an excursion of second hand car sales garages to select a car for himself. It was the Irish charm of Patrick Withers which made Julie’s father the proud owner of a “brand new second hand” Fiat 1500 saloon. Whilst the father was checking the cars, Patrick drowned Julie with every conceivable complement and won a date for the following Saturday. The father got a car and Julie found a man 77

and both went home happy. After a six weeks courtship and a couple of dozen times in between the sheets, Patrick proposed and Julie accepted. The wedding was a quiet family affair except the fact that there were three uninvited guests observing the entire event discreetly. The two men and the woman, who were pretending to be Italian tourists were actually Mossad operatives, used several roles of Kodak films and photographed every single guest at the wedding. Perhaps it might be a good idea to contact Julie again, Chris wondered. What are friends for? Chris said to himself. Without knowing where exactly Julie lived, Chris posted three identical letters to three different addresses where Julie might be located. A few days later, Julie received a long passionate letter from Chris, which brought tears to her eyes.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN HISTORY REPEATS EVEN IN PRISON

After reading the news stories about the disappearances of Geoff and James, Chris started his own desk and field research. He started to enquire through the Prison grape vine to seek more information on the disappearance of his two old mates. Actually he was not that much concerned about the two mates, but he was seriously concerned about his own personal safety. He was fully aware of the attitudes of the Supreme Council of R.A.T.S and the drastic actions taken against operatives who violate their general principles. Several instances, operatives were executed for venturing off the defined tracks and usually the remains were never found, generally laid in a concrete mixed foundation. Sometimes renegade operatives were captured and were executed with a bullet to the back of the neck and the body would be allowed to be found, as an example to the rest of the members. The Police would then simply close the enquiries as another gangland execution and one less for the Police to bother with. It was one of those visiting days when one of the Prison wardens informed Chris that there was a visitor waiting for him. Wasn’t he glad to see the smiling freckled face of Julie. “Hullo Chris. Lovely to see ya!” “Baby, you look great!” After almost over six years, she did not look a day over twenty five. Her slim body, her firm breasts, curves in the right places, all transported by a lovely pair of legs which started from her neck, was a delightful sight. “Thought that I would never get to see you again”, said Julie with tears running down her eyes. They were allowed to hug each other under the watchful eyes 79

of one of the wardens. The hard wooden benches felt so comfortable when facing Julie, seated on either side of a long wooden table. Holding Julie’s silky soft hands, Chris did not know where to start. They both had so much to tell each other. Since Chris was only allowed one hour, some sacrifices had to be made. “Heard anything about Geoff and James?” enquired Chris. “No. Nothing at all” replied Julie. After a minute or so silence, Julie started about some of the history from the time after the trial leading to her marriage. Her problems of not being able to find a decent job. Although she applied for hundreds of jobs which she felt she was amply qualified for, the first interview was as far as she went. Then she worked part time selling Avon cosmetics, worked in several open air markets and selling Tupperware. She even wondered if some of the persons whom she had persecuted in the past had placed a black magic curse on her. Little did she know that both the Anti-Terrorist Unit of the Scotland Yard and agents of Mossad were keeping a discreet tab on her. Whenever she successfully got through into a personal interview, the Police would approach the prospective employer and suggest them to apply caution on engaging a person with a known terrorist background. 80

The Police officers thought that by driving Julie away from one job after another, in sheer desperation, she might lead them onto another cell unit. But to the disappointment of the investigators, Julie’s contacts began and ended with her old cell unit. Only after her marriage, she managed to get into the local Sainsbury’s Supermarket, first, sweating it out as a food stacker or a shelver, then after almost three years, into the current position as a cashier. Although she had several OLevels to her name and been through a Pitman’s Secretarial course, she failed to progress further. Her marriage to Patrick was not that much of a success either. After a few months, Julie realised that Patrick’s drinking and chasing women was a part and parcel of his standard Irish lifestyle. Chris was not really interested in her history. Being a professional, there is a time and place for every thing. After listening to her for a good twenty minutes, he cut in. “Listen sweetie. I want you to get down to Chesham and find out what’s going on. And I want you to start now!” Although he would have been quite interested in laying her right on top of the wooden table and indulging in a spot of sex, but the prevailing circumstances would not allow him such carnal pleasures. Time being of essence, Chris decided to get down to the crux of the matter. He informed Julie about the articles he read in some of the back issues about the disappearances of Geoff and James. That was the first time Julie had heard anything about the two lads since the trial. In any case, none of the three other men were of any interest to Julie, except Chris. After the trial, apart from contacts with Chris, Julie wanted to put the whole episode behind her and start a new life. But Chris was adamant that Julie should look into the sudden 81

disappearance of the two mates. Due to her deep respect for Chris and for old times sake, Julie agreed. Unknown to either of them, the Scotland Yard had followed all the correspondence from Chris to Julie and watched her visit to Manchester at a discreet distance. The man from the Yard had informed the Greater Manchester Constabulary about the impending visit of Julie and the local officers obliged by keeping a close watch on her movements. When Julie boarded the train on her return journey to London, two officers, one male and a female, joined Julie in the same compartment and rode all the way down to London. By the time she disembarked at London King’s Cross Railway Station, it was well past eight at night. Tired and hungry, Julie checked herself into one of the cheap hotels off opposite the Railway Station, which are frequented by the London’s twilight prostitute community. After a quick splash of cold water onto her face, Julie walked outside in search of a quick snack before she hit the sack. The two officers from the Greater Manchester Police were met by their colleagues at the Railway Station, who thanked them for their assistance. Whilst this polite meeting and greeting was taking place, another officer followed Julie to the hotel and booked himself into a room across from that of Julie. Another two armed officers kept vigil from an unmarked Police car parked across the street facing the entrance to the hotel. Julie had no intention of doing anything else that evening, after the snack, all she wanted was a decent night’s sleep. The continuously banging of doors, footsteps in the corridors, heated discussions between the whores and their punters, laced with the finest of Queen’s English, kept Julie awake till two in the morning. 82

She received an abrupt shock when the cleaning woman barged into the room. “Morning dear, it is past eleven in the morning. If you stay after mid day, it would cost another twenty five pounds”. All the luxury the room offered was a wash basin, decorated with millions of brown coloured cracks and staines, indicating the age as well as wear and tear, and a small towel. Julie quickly slipped into her jeans and a sweatshirt and walked down the corridor to the common shower room, spending a good part of five minutes under a luke warm shower. A hearty breakfast was Julie’s next on her menu. The King’s Cross Railway Station offered a choice of eateries and Julie headed to the Station. After a double fried egg, bacon, beans and greasy chips washed down with a large cup of coffee, Julie felt much better. Having purchased herself a copy of Woman’s Own magazine, Julie took a train to Watford. Julie was so engulfed with her problem in hand, she failed to notice a middle aged woman dressed in a pair of slacks and an anorak who followed her all morning. Also on her tail was a male Police officer in his mid forties, attired in a pair of designer jeans, Nike casuals, carrying an overnight bag. Whilst Julie was tucking herself into her breakfast, both the man and the woman watched her carefully, standing separately, at a reasonable distance. When Julie walked upto the ticket counter, and asked for a ticket to Watford, the woman stood right behind her. She too purchased a ticket to Watford and discreetly informed of the destination to the other officer. Immediately after purchasing the ticket, he walked into a telephone booth and informed his superiors of their operational movements. Inside the train, the two officers took up seating positions in such a way to maintain observation of any movement of Julie, without being noticed. The train trip to Watford took less than forty minutes and as the two officers 83

got off from the train, there were two officers from the local Watford Police to meet them. The two Police officers from the Yard got into two unmarked Police cars and started to follow the bus which Julie took.

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN THE PAPER CHASE

Julie’s first stop was the mini cab company where Geoff worked. She introduced herself as a distant relative of Geoff and was interested in the disappearance of Geoff. The girl seated next to a typewriter and a telephone, was the only office employee in the company except the owner. She acted as the cashier, telephone operator, bookkeeper and the part time mistress of the owner. Chewing a mouthful of Wrigley’s, she was in no mood to answer any questions. “Well, uh, your cousin Geoff just disappeared one day and with the daily takings. He did not collect his weeks wage. Well four days, actually. So I think we are even” “Furthermore, Geoff did not return the car keys”, she added. “During the period he worked, he was a consciousness worker and she saw him for no more than ten minutes each day, when he came in to hand over the days takings and give the metre readings. In my opinion, Geoff was a good lad but he did not socialise with any of the other drivers”. But feeling a bit sorry for Julie, she told Julie, “Maybe I give you the address of Geoff‘s flat, the name of Geoff’s plumber friend, and the local pub which they used to hang around. Perhaps both of them left the area and went elsewhere”. Thanking the girl for the information, Julie took a bus back to Watford central bus station and took a bus to Chesham. She found the flat over the carpet warehouse and the new tenant knew nothing of the previous tenants. According to the owner, “They were two quiet lads. Suddenly one bloke disappeared and the other stayed for over five months by himself. And suddenly he too disappeared without paying rent for two weeks”. 85

The story was getting deeper and deeper. Julie was getting the cold shivers. No sooner Julie walked out of the mini cab office, one of the local Police officers accompanied by his London colleague, entered the office. Having politely introduced themselves by presenting their official cards, the two men expressed an interest in a replay of the dialogue between the receptionist and Julie. The receptionist was quite surprised by the fact that the local Police showed little or no interest when the mini cab owner reported the loss of his Cortina. The disappearance of the driver with the day’s takings did nothing to stir the Police interest. But why the sudden interest of a visit and a conversation of a simple girl? Upon receipt of this information, one of the Police cars raced to Chesham to be at the offices of the plumbing company before Julie arrived. The other Police car followed behind the bus which Julie took. After the introductions, the owner of the plumbing company allowed one of the Police officers to sit in at the meeting, if Julie showed up. Just before five, Julie walked into the small untidy office of Chesham Heating, Ventilation and Plumbing Company. built on a ramp above the spares and other plumbing materials used for ventilation and heating. The middle aged owner had only good words for James. “He was a bloody good worker. Always on time. Kept all the tools tidy and all”. According to him, “James simply vanished leaving the company van at the parking place of The Plough Inn. Since James was owed a weeks wages, I would be very happy to let you have this money against a signed receipt with your full name and address”. 86

Just as she was about to leave, “Oh, by the way, you might try two of James’ favourite hang outs, The Star of India and the local, The Plough Inn”. Thanking the old plumber, Julie decided to head towards The Plough Inn, since she was not a great fan of Indian cuisine. Anyway she did not like the brown skinned Indians and Pakistanis much either. Between the six Police officers, they decided that one local officer could offer back-up to one of the London officers and the rest could call it a day. The regulars of The Plough Inn started to arrive from five thirty onwards and John Gibbs the jeans clad London Police officer walked into the Public Bar without causing too much attention. In the meantime, one of the local Police officers checked John Gibbs into a local Inn for the night and left his overnight bag. The owner of Hurley’s Bed & Breakfast at Amersham, a few miles down the road from The Plough Inn was informed the official status of John Gibbs. The regulars at The Plough Inn seemed to know one another fairly well, thought Gibbs. But when Julie walked into the Bar area, some of the drinkers stopped their chatter and several heads turned in admiration. Julie sensed that, it would be fairly easy for her to find a bed for the night from amongst the drinkers. Ordering herself a lager with lime, she headed towards the darts board. “Any one big enough to try his hand with a delicate woman?” Julie enquired looking at a group of cigarette smokers. She selected a set of darts and nonchalantly started throwing one dart after another, each time hitting bulls eye. Within minutes a gaggle of drinkers surrounded Julie and in good humour challenged her, and then started offering one beer after another. 87

Not too far from the darts board sat Gibbs. During darts and drinks, “What is a pretty lass doing in a place like this?” asked one player. “Looking for my ex-fiancé and a cousin of mine” Julie casually retorted. “Any of you boys know two handsome lads by the names of James and Geoff?”. “Two nice lads. Came here almost every night for a beer and a game of darts. Good sense of humour and loved the odd nookie or two”, chided one drinker. Gibbs was fascinated and impressed the way Julie needled into a fresh totally new environment. He thought that she had brains which equalled her superb looks. More than that, he quite fancied her. He then looked at his local colleague and told him that he was free to leave whenever he wished and that Gibbs would make his next move. Gibbs knew that he had to move with speed. Gibbs was not much of a darts player, but his sense of humour attracted Julie. Anyway Gibbs looked much more polished and had a classy approach. “Hi. My name is John. Fancy a couple of throws?” asked John Gibbs making a swift bold entry. Within minutes, Julie was seated next to John and enjoying his cracks and the second Gin & Tonic. Over the next round of drinks, John suggested, “I am told that they serve a good meal. Fancy joining me?” Julie loved that accent. Julie had not talked with a real gentleman for ages. John looked and behaved every inch a well educated, well informed gentleman. Julie who had consumed over six rounds of lager, then three Gin & Tonics 88

was ready for a decent meal. John suggested, “How about you and doing a grilled T-bone steak together with a nice bottle of Beaujolais?” Julie agreed with a pretty smile. A cup of coffee and a large balloon of Cognac rounded the fine dinner. “And what, may I enquire a young lady doing in the midst of nowhere?” John asked. “Actually, I am looking for a long lost cousin who was working in the neighbourhood and I think it might mean that I find a room for a couple of nights”. “Well, that is a coincidence. I am new around here too and I have checked myself into a cosy little B & B place down the road”. “Perhaps they have a spare room. If not, you can have the other bed in my room. No obligations on either side, if you know what I mean”. Without any hesitation Julie accepted John’s offer. It was past ten thirty when the mini cab carrying John and Julie stopped outside the Hurley’s B & B. John gave a fiver to the cab driver and as they were climbing out of the car, the landlord of the Inn, was at hand with a welcoming smile. “Hello John, come on in!” and continued saying, “Would your lady and yourself wish to have a warm drink or shall I open the bar for you?” John thanked him for his kindness and suggested two large Gins & Tonics with a lot of crushed ice, and settled down with Julie in one of the leather sofas. 89

Julie had by now mellowed a bit and a bit over the top after consuming a tankful of booze, happily cuddled next to John and sipped her drink. Her tender voluptuous breasts pressed against the fast beating heart and in any case he was not in one of his best official investigating moods. He had other thoughts and options. He had come across similar situations many times but this was one of the better ones. He intended to make the most of it and make himself an all night meal of it. After finishing the drink both sauntered to the warmth of a crackling fireplace in an old country house bedroom. John apologised for the mess in his room, which was deliberately created by his colleague to create that lived-in feeling. Being a gentleman, he addressed to the delicate art of undressing a lady and helped Julie with the removal of her garments. Kissing her gently on the back of her neck whilst his hands fondled her firm breasts, John started to unbutton her blouse, whilst Julie kicked her shoes off. She responded by turning around and kissed him on his lips and started to remove her denims and the stockings at the same time. Still with his face firmly stuck to her lips, John began to unzip his trousers and Julie helped him to remove his shirt. Writhing in ecstasy, both of them collapsed on to the bed and soon they were in the firmament enjoying the warmth of two bodies, sprinkled in a million flashes of fulfilment. A gentle knock on the door at nine thirty in the morning woke John up to face a beaming landlady carrying a loaded tray of a real English breakfast. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Good morning. Breakfast for two. If you need anything, please give us a shoutâ&#x20AC;? Julie was still mumbling something and he thanked the landlady and walked into the bathroom. The previous nights drinking bout had left its mark and he did not feel as fresh as a policeman on duty ought to be. 90

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Nevertheless he felt deep satisfaction that his quarry was within his sight and at a reachable distance. After performing the nature’s calls, John soaked himself in a steaming hot shower until the steam ran down the sides of the walls. Julie’s smiling face was the first thing he saw when he opened the bathroom door and he walked to her side of the bed armed with two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juices. Whilst sipping her orange juice, Julie started to fondle one of his nipples and proceeded to pull his head towards her pink breasts. John responded instantaneously, moved the sheets off her body and rolled on top of her. For the next twenty five minutes, they both reincarnated the effervescence of the previous night. When she emerged from the bathroom, John suggested that they both walked around the Chiltern town of Amersham to enjoy the fresh country air. It was ages since she had some decent company and she began to appreciate such values, perhaps a part of the ageing process, she thought. With both minds clearing after a decent portions of fried farm eggs, double rashes of bacon, sausages, tomato, mushrooms, loads of toast and buckets of freshly brewed Ceylon Tea, she entered into an inquisitive mood. Gently her professionalism in delving into the unknown began. “So John, what exactly are you hiding from?” “Two screaming ex-wives and hordes of noisy kids” came the retort. She really begun to like John, his good athletic looks, straight white teeth, flock of dark auburn hair made him look a bit like a movie star. Then she began to wonder what a man like John was doing with one holdall in the backwaters of Buckinghamshire. “And where do you go from here, John?” 91

“Not decided yet. Perhaps to London”. The surveillance officers at the Anti-Terrorist Squad of Scotland Yard are a bunch of pretty clever lads. Their various forms of the training curriculum makes them damned good actors who are able to mix and match with the best of Hollywood. They have to be. Most of the time they are pretending to be somebody else, sometimes in the UK and many times in distant foreign lands. Story telling is one of their main forte’s. John had his yarn all ready to spin. With a long sombre facial expression he began to mumble his story. “To tell you the truth, I was an office equipment salesman successfully selling in the South West region of London until I recently discovered that my beautiful young wife was having an affair with my sales manager”. Turning his head away from Julie, in a very sombre tone he added, “During one of our sales campaigns, I came home unexpectedly at around mid day to collect one of demo kits and found my boss in bed with Laura”. With his light blue eyes swelled with tears, John said that for the past few weeks he had been wandering around, sleeping at homes of some of his friends. Two days ago he came to visit one of his aunts who lived in Chesham and decided to hang around in Chesham for a few days to think things around. Julie listened to the sad sob story and started to console him by giving her version of her life. John was well briefed by the Yard on her background and parts of her story tallied with what he knew. She also knew how to spin a good yarn. “When my parents separated and subsequently divorced, I 92

lived with my maternal grandmother from the age of twelve. By the age of sixteen, I was raped twice by an uncle of mine who lived in the same block of flats as my grandmother. Then for a while I was totally confused and disgusted, ventured off as a teenage prostitute to fund my taste for fancy clothes”. Bloody good start, John thought to himself. She went on, “For a while I lived with an affluent middle aged businessman as his mistress. Then I had several part time and odd jobs, as a food packer, a barmaid and lived with a local man who worked in a meat factory. During this time, my boy friend with whom I lived, died in a motorcycle accident. After a year or so, I met my current husband and lived in Norfolk”. Neither her married life nor her work at the local Sainsbury’s was anything to talk about. But at this moment she had no alternatives. “I came to Buckinghamshire that morning seeking a cousin of mine who might be able to help me start a new life”, she said reaching out for John’s hand. Walking around the old world village of Amersham, with its tiny curio and antique shops, small coffee shops, both walked into one of the old pubs for a lager. After a night of serious drinking. nothing helps better than a cool clear glass of Heineken which helps to clear the smoggy head.

CHAPTER NINETEEN THE EARLY WARNING OF VISITORS

The day to day lives of Michael and Daniel were ticking like clockwork. The basic work schedules of their respective programmes did not give them much opportunity to have even dinner together during the week. Michael had to do his shift work at the hospital now that he was in charge of a special emergency unit. Daniel was ran a successful business in freight forwarding. Daniel now operates twenty two trucks using the owner operator-leased driver plan. He would arrange funding to purchase trucks which are driven by individual self-employed owners but all trucks carried his own logo. This way he had minimised his financial risk. His main investment was a sophisticated computer controlled logistics system which planned the work distribution amongst his drivers. He had moved his office to Park Road Industrial Estate in Watford which had ample secure parking space for six to eight trucks. Between the three office girls and himself, they managed the traffic logistics, administrative activity to include collection of funds, banking and payments to his subcontract drivers. Daniel usually worked between eight in the morning till six in the evening and sent one of the girls to fetch a sandwich lunch. He commuted to work taking some of the deserted narrow country lanes. Both brothers drove identical blue Ford Cortinas. The old Ford Transit van was exclusively used by Daniel to pick up meat and other live animals from various suppliers from Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. Except during the weekends, the brothers evening meals were restricted to frozen convenient foods from the local supermarket. Some Sundays after visiting Ruth, the boys might visit one of their grandparents to lunch, but avoided inviting any of them to The Monks Farm. 94

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Immediately after the execution of Geoff, the twins built a sophisticated electronic early warning security system around the perimetre of the farm. At the entrance, a cattle grid incorporating pressure and weight sensors was installed, which is normally used by farmers to prevent cattle and deer crossing. With the help of one of the engineers who worked for their late father, who currently worked as a design engineer for Sinclair Electronics, together they planned a comprehensive Closed Circuit TV (CCTV) monitoring system. The early warning system was connected to several different counters. Each counter was activated if an intruder entered the farm premises and indicated the area of entry. Underneath the ground around the farm, electronic sensors were buried. The counter connected to the cattle grid indicated the number of vehicles over 100 kilos crossing the grid each way. Another sensor activated any entry upto 100 kilos, thus indicating the weight and the time the milkman or the postman visited. A red lamp hidden on one of the beams of the second outbuilding would be activated when an object over 100 kilos crossed the grid. The entire house was connected to a second protective system. Once the front door was double locked from the outside with kitchen door bolted from inside, a light installed next to the first warning light would be activated. Should there be an unauthorised entry, the light would begin to flicker gently. Inside the house, all the quadruple-glazed toughened-glass windows were connected to another circuit. Once, the one or both occupants were inside, the front and rear doors double locked, a third remote control lock would be automatically activated. When this system is in operation, the entire perimetre security system would be automatically transferred onto the CCTV. If any intruder approached the premises, the movement sensitive CCTV would immediately activate the TV sets in the living room and the four bedrooms. This 95

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programme would override any TV or video programme which was in progress. Compared to this high tech system, the initial security system which was installed by their late father was pretty archaic and outdated. Now the entire premises was under tight security and monitoring system. The heart of the system with its information retrieval system was located on the wall on the corridor between the living room, dining room, kitchen and the stairs to the bedrooms. The door of the system was cleverly concealed behind a giant antique mirror which may be electrically moved by touch of a button located a metre away. The entire system was connected to an emergency standby auto-rechargeable silent battery operated power transfer system, in case the main power suffered a failure. It was one of those rare week day nights when Michael approached, he noticed the tiny warning light switched on and the cottage was lit. Since the warning light did not flicker, this confirmed that the occupant inside was definitely Daniel and there were no uninvited surprises. Daniel who was watching TV, was suddenly interrupted to show a car approaching and noticed that it was Michael and got up to help himself to another Scotch. “Hello Michael. Nice to see you so early for a change”. “Why don’t we celebrate this rare occasion with a nice grilled T-bone over a bottle of wine, eh?” answered the twin. Daniel started to defrost a couple of giant T-bone steaks and started to light the fireplace in the living room. Michael in the meantime slipped into something more casual than his suit and began to de-cork a bottle of Mouton Cadet de Rothschild. The whilst the beef was thawing, they both settled down to watch the Coronation Street, just for a laugh. With the giant chunk of a steak facing them, a glass of a 96

smooth Italian red wine, the twins started to carve their medium done T-bone , just as their late father used to grill them. After a highly satisfactory meal of Angus steak, smothered in French mustard, Tabasco, with a couple of glasses of the remainder in hand both moved to the living room and slumped into the deep soft arm chairs in front of the TV. Half an hour into their relaxed state, suddenly the TV programme they were watching was overridden by the CCTV. On the screen was a white Rover 2000 and they could see the two persons in the front and there were possibly others in the rear seat. Since neither of the twins invited any guests home, both looked at each others face in surprise and in fear. At the door were two men standing and the driver remained in the car. The CCTV picture on their TV showed that the men were in their late thirties to early forties and wore suits. The visions of Chesham flashed on top of the TV screen. Just then the door bell rang. Whilst Michael walked upto the door, Daniel took up position in the kitchen, next to one of the locations of the panic button which is connected to the Police. Just as a safety precaution, he pulled a large carving knife and held it behind his back. “Yes! Can I help you?” Michael enquired through the intercommunication system the identity of the visitors. The man in a grey raincoat, held out an identity card and announced, “I am Police Inspector Timothy Barron”. Michael opened the door and the man politely asked, “May we come in?” As Michael shook hands with Barron, the man behind him 97

introduced himself, “Ah, I am Detective Sergeant Paul Wright of Hemel Hempstead Police” Inspector removed his hat exposing a shiny bald pate and Daniel entered the living room and greeted them both. “Would you two gentlemen join us in a glass of red?” Daniel enquired. Although he had never met the boys or their late father, he had gone into the trouble of going into all the background details of the Freedman tragedy. Barron, a professional Police officer for over twenty years had seen a lot of crime and he sympathised with the boys over their unfortunate historical past. Barron raised the glass of wine, “To your good health!” The straight talking Inspector wanted to get his point across without any further delay. He started by telling the boys that the two of the four convicts who were involved in the Freedman family were released over a year ago. Both had been living and working in and around Kings Langley, and had to report to their parole officer. But over a few month period, one by one, both had disappeared. The Police had them observed from time to time, through their own channels, since the Police did not have the resources to maintain permanent surveillance. According to Scotland Yard Anti-Terrorist Unit, it may be possible that the two may have gone ‘underground’ or moved to Ireland or even to the Continent. It was also possible that they may have joined another group or a cell similar to R.A.T.S. “Funny” the boys thought, just looking at each other. These words had double meanings, but they both managed to maintain a straight face. 98

“And the main reason for our visit was to inform of these events and to inform that the third convict Don Carpenter who was in Brixton Prison was expected to be released on parole with the next six weeks. And here is a recent photograph of Carpenter”. The Inspector stressed that the boys should exercise care and if ever they needed any assistance or advice, the services of Her Majesty’s Royal Constabulary was at the end of a telephone line. Whilst Barron was talking to the boys he asked Sergeant Wright to test the Panic Button and called the Police Station to verify. Both boys thanked the Police for their concern and attention, and stressed that they both are totally engaged in their work, maintained a low profile. Their social activity was primarily restricted to visiting their frail grandparents at their respective homes and their sister Ruth who was in a Sanatorium. They never invited any body home in order to maintain their privacy and kept their home telephone number ex-directory. Apart from a few trips to Southern Europe or to the Eastern seaboard in USA with a lady companion, their personal lives had been uneventful, they explained to the two Policemen. Having bade good evening, they watched on TV the Police Rover with the three officers crossing the cattle grid, disappearing into the Hertfordshire countryside. That was interesting news indeed for the twins who now were sipping Scotch and soda, began to plan their next catch. Now that they have seen the face of Don Carpenter, it was imperative to get a good idea of what his movements are. Michael suggested that his brother innovated a scheme to get inside Brixton Prison to obtain a closer look at their victim. Over the following weeks, Daniel learnt that Don was working in the Prison library and that twice a month, a 99

wholesaler of books and other publications delivered a load of old back issues of magazines and periodicals to the Prison. With some background research, he identified the company which delivered the merchandise. Then he approach the company and without too much trouble got himself a listed as a temporary driver. Within the next six weeks Daniel had made three visits to Prison. On two occasions he met Don personally whilst he was pushing the trolley loaded with the magazines. Through a few discreet enquiries, the two boys learnt of the approximate date of release of Don and they began to think of their modus operandai. Once the day of release became quite nearer, the twins took several days off work to station themselves off the main gate of Brixton Prison. It became a daily routine to wait inside the Ford Transit to see if their quarry emerged from the Prison. After six days of waiting, their patience was rewarded when they saw Don emerging from the small gate of the Prison carrying a couple of plastic bags. He looked totally lost, stood a few metres from the gate, pondered a while, started walking towards the main road. Then he started heading in the direction of the Underground station. At this point Michael slipped out of the van and started to follow Don. He walked with some trepidation towards the ticket sales and bought a ticket to Earls Court. After two changes of trains, Don came out of the Earls Court Underground Station into the hustle bustle of the Earls Court Road. The short busy Earls Court Road has dozens of eateries and pubs, and is generally frequented by foreigners, visitors to the exhibitions and the cheap end of prostitutes and homosexuals. It is also an area for drug pedlars, cheap racketeers and the petty criminal underground gangs.

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Don had been frequenting one of the pubs, Kensington Arms Pub during his occasional visits to London, since several of his friends lived off the area. Hoping to meet some company, he wandered into the Lounge Bar and sat on a stool at the bar. The last time he had a real beer was almost eight years ago and he was pining for a pint of bitter. The lukewarm brownish beer in front, he reached for his duffel jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of Bristol cigarettes. As he placed the cigarette between his lips, a friendly hand extended with a lighter and offered a light. After accepting the light he turned to the man and thanked him. Then the man extended his hand and introduced him saying, “Hallo, I am Rodney”.

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CHAPTER TWENTY A TIGERS TALE

The Tamil population of Sri Lanka, which was called Ceylon until recently, were brought in from South India by the British to work as cheap labour in the tea estates in the Hill Country. Some of the Tamil illegal immigrants came down South to the main cities from the Jaffna Peninsular in the North, in search of employment. The prevalent caste system made them the “untouchables” and they ended up as street cleaners, emptying lavatory buckets since Colombo had very few flush toilets and septic tanks. The majority ethnic Sinhalese Aryan population tolerated the Tamils, since they were needed to keep the public drains and toilets clean. During a period of two hundred years, the fertile Tamils with an average of twelve to a family, claimed about six percent of the total population in Sri Lanka. The sixty five percent of the total population are Sinhalese, predominantly Buddhists and practice non-violence. The Tamils who are essentially Hindus, are a violent lot. After several bouts of ethnic conflict and racially motivated riots, Tamils began to demand that Sri Lanka should be partitioned and the North Eastern part of the country should be declared an independent Tamil State. The Sinhalese led governments were prepared to accede to a degree of autonomy but would never ever agree to carve out the country to a group of immigrants. As a direct result, the Tamils started a campaign of violence, murder and terror, in order to sequestrate the North. The organisation led by one of the most wanted terrorists in the world was named, Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). Under the leadership of Velupillai Prabakaran, a well disciplined terrorist Army, Navy and Air Force was created, supported by several organised units in key capitals of the world, responsible for fund raising 102

and propaganda. Simultaneously, selected young Tamils were sent to several countries such as England, France, Italy, Canada, Australia for education, whilst specialist groups received training on terrorism under the command of the PLO, Afghan Mujahaidin, Norway and the Indian government. Rodney Themalaratnam, a twenty year old student from Jaffna, was sent amongst others to London, to be educated as an accountant. Through the LTTE connections, Rodney was placed in a polytechnic in North London, and housed in a communal Tamil flat off Earls Court Road. To subsidise his living expenses, Rodney was introduced to a South Indian Tamil Dosai restaurant in Earls Court Road, operated by Indian Tamils, where he washed dishes in the evening and received a cash payment of five pounds plus a free evening meal. Occasional Saturdays Rodney used to visit the Hammersmith Palais, a huge dance hall near Hammersmith Tube Station, where hundreds of foreign students and visitors alike came in for a night out seeking entertainment but mainly sex. When it came to a question of sex, Rodney was not too selective. Neither the age nor the looks mattered much. Being a bisexual part time male prostitute, the sex of the opposite party did not matter either. Many a Saturday night, Rodney would accept an invitation from a middle aged German or a Scandinavian woman and settle for the night in her hotel room. Many a time, he would graciously accept a token monetary offering from a well satisfied woman. After almost two years of living in London, Rodney did not have a permanent female companion. Sometimes after working in the kitchen, he would walk into Kensington Arms for a beer, but mainly to see if he could pick up something for the night. The smell of Indian curry which emanated from his hair and clothes, with the after effects of the mixture of garlic and beer, reeking each time he opened his mouth, put off many a prospective catch. 103

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That particular Saturday night, at Hammersmith Palais, Rodney hit the jackpot. Whilst ‘waltzing’ with a large Bavarian woman who had instantly fallen in love with Rodney, he noticed an attractive young blond who kept on looking at him. The moment he got the opportunity, Rodney grabbed the chance and walked towards the pretty female and asked her for a dance. She was quite a change from the rest of his evenings dancing partners. “Renaté Schmidt is my name”, said she, extending her hand, “from Vienna”. “I am working in the centre of London learning English and undergoing training in Business Management”. “I can teach you English, if you could help me with my German”, Rodney muttered one of his famous lines in his Tamil accent. Both enjoyed each others company until she announced, “Sorry Rodney, I have to get home and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a very important day and I plan to attend the German language Catholic Mass at eight”. For a moment he wanted to say that he would accompany her by the underground, when she simply stepped off the pavement and hailed a black London cab. With less than three pounds in his pocket, Rodney offered, “Let me ride with you home at least”. Some of the flats situated in Upper Richmond Road, adjoining the River Thames, are occupied by the better off professionals. Renaté graciously invited Rodney, “Would you like to come in for a drink of strong coffee?” 104

And he unhesitantly accepted. The third floor flat with a balcony facing the River Thames was appointed with taste for luxury and civility. The young budding Tamil terrorist from Jaffna felt that the Lady Luck was smiling at him. With two mugs of coffee in her hands, Renate suggested, “Rodney why don’t you pour two balloons of Courvasier” pointing her left arm towards the cocktail cabinet. For the lager guzzling Rodney, except for an occasional Gin and Tonic, this Courvasier was a totally different world. The word “balloons” was new to his vocabulary. The Courvasier looked nice, like weak tea, did not smell that good, but the taste was awful. He gulped it down in one shot, shook his head several times and chased the Cognac with a mouthful of coffee. Since Renaté mentioned that she had to wake up early, being a devout Roman Catholic, she planned to go to Sunday Mass and receive Holy Communion. This was double-Dutch to Rodney. Hindus did not have such regular rituals. Renaté led him to the door and Renate offered her left cheek to Rodney and bade good night, It was past midnight and the London underground was closed and since Rodney did not have sufficient funds for a taxi ride, he walked all the way from Putney to his Earls Court flat. The long forty five minute walk gave Rodney a lot to think about. He had to inform Paska, his LTTE handler about this meeting, in the morning. Then he planned how he could develop a relationship with lovely Renaté. First he had to tidy his dirty little basement flat, just in case Renaté decided to drop by. Next he had to get his handler to fix him some sort of a respectable job in an office, at least part-time. Third, he should negotiate with the restaurant that he did not work the weekends. 105

Paska the Terrorist LTTE handler ordered Rodney, “Listen Rodney, first to get to know the girl better and obtain all the background information. You should call Renaté around Wednesday or Thursday and take her out for a meal on Friday and to a dancing place, away from the Hammersmith Palais, on Saturday”. Who knows, one of those grateful middle aged Bavarians might bump into him. He should exercise patience and behave properly like a civilised gentleman without rushing into bed immediately. The organisation would advance him fifty pounds to cover costs of the prospective investment. Renaté was pleased to hear from Rodney, accepted his invitation to dinner and invited him to her flat on Friday around sevenish. Grabbing a cheap bottle of German sparkling wine, a special offer at £1.99, he pressed the door bell. The pretty blond young lady who opened the door introduced herself,”Hello, I am Inge, the flat mate of Renaté. Please, come inside”, and pointed towards a sofa and asked if he fancied something to drink. “Renaté is still in the shower and I am having a glass of Chablis”, and Rodney accepted her offer. The delicate fragrance of an expensive French parfume captured the entire room as Renaté entered the room. She approached him with a warm smile and awarded him a kiss on his cheek. Rodney pulled out his gift out of the plastic bag and offered it to Renaté. After a while, she suggested, “Lets get out and greet the London’s evening air”. Walking towards Putney Bridge, Rodney enquired, “Would 106

you like to savour the delights of Asian cuisine?” and Renaté nodded her head in approval. There were two main reasons why he asked the London cab driver to take them to the Bombay Palace Indian restaurant. The first, is that he did not know any other restaurant or how to handle the menu of a different ethnic cuisine. The second, was that the food will not cost him much, since he would get a staff discount and a few freebies. The stair carpet leading to the restaurant situated in the basement was well worn, dirty and smelt foul, something which Rodney never noticed as they entered, since he had got accustomed to it. Renaté coming from an affluent Austrian industrial family, was used to finer things in life and she had never ever experienced such a horrid ambience. Used to very hot and spicy food, Rodney took charge of the menu. Starting with a few crispy Pappodoms, he went on to order his favourite Madras Chicken Curry, Lentils with Spinach, and Mutton Curry. When it came to beverages, his limit was British Bitter and Lagers. The wine list looked more like another foreign language to him with a price to match. Being polite and kind by nature, she took the environment and the spicy hot curries in her stride. Although she never drank beer with a meal except a glass or two of the finest German, Austrian or French wines, she did not want to insult the host. When it was time to leave, she was relieved and preferred to breath the dusty, exhaust smoke filled polluted air of Earls Court Road rather than spend one more minute in that stuffy Asian restaurant. Walking down towards South Kensington, Renaté suggested that they tried a bar on Kings Road, for a glass of wine. It was difficult for Rodney to play this game of patience. 107

Usually, he spent no more time than it took for a half a glass of lager and then reel to bed. But the conversation leading to the background of Renaté became more and more interesting. After two glasses of wine, she suggested that they returned to her flat and he hailed a cab. Inside the flat she opened the bottle of sparkling white wine which Rodney had brought earlier in the evening, now reasonably chilled, and placed a long playing record of Richard Clayderman on her stereo. Knocking a few lights off, she sat next to him and sipped the wine to the background strains of beautiful relaxing piano music. The gentle kisses, hugs and squeezes led to passionate squeezing of her small firm breasts, and when Rodney placed his hand inside her skirt, Renate pulled his hand away and got up. “Rodney!” She said firmly but politely, “I come from a decent and respectable Catholic family and hold high moral principles”. “Sex may come later, after a lengthy and a serious courtship”, she added. This was hard for him to swallow, but then there were instructions from the top. The next day being Saturday, Rodney suggested, “Renaté, why dont we take the underground tube train to Piccadilly Circus, walk around Soho, try a Chinese meal and then go to a cinema?” What ever the film was, he did not see one single scene properly. From the beginning to the end, he continued fondling her breasts and massaging her thighs. Renaté began to enjoy this more and more. Around eleven, they took the tube to Putney and walked arm in arm to her flat. 108

The following Monday, the LTTE handler called Rodney and asked him to come to the Bombay Palace, half an hour before he started work. He received a comprehensive brief on this wonderful opportunity for the Tamil Terrorist LTTE cause and suggested to Rodney that now he should somehow get into a deeper and a more serious involvement with the young lady. Since an offer of marriage may get a flat refusal due to the social status of Rodney, he must now get her to bed soonest and make her pregnant. This policy has been adopted by many LTTE recruits, on the instructions from their respective handlers, to enter into affluent families in Europe, USA, and to tap into regular financial resources. .

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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE A PLEASURE IN LINE OF DUTY

Regular visits of Rodney to Renaté on each Friday and Saturday, entertainment costs largely funded by the generosity of the LTTE, the relationship became firmer and closer. When it came to a beautiful heiress worth a million dollar fortune, the religion played a secondary role. With time, for Rodney the Hindu faith went through the window, and started to join Renaté at Sunday visits to St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church in South Kensington. After three months Rodney achieved his objective when he heard, “Rodney, I think I am going to have your baby”. That was music to his ears. Mission accomplished. Tamil stamp now well and truly established in the Austrian Empire. One toe in the door towards colonisation. Within six weeks Renaté announced that she had visited Sir Charles Hudson-Thistlethwaite, a prominent Harley Street gynaecologist and it was confirmed that she was pregnant. Since she was working in her father’s London offices, and that she would never consider an abortion, she felt it was her duty to inform her parents of her status. At this point, an over excited Rodney hugged her, “Darling, will you marry me?” and drowned her with millions of kisses. After several serious discussions, some attended by Inge, Renaté decided to accept Rodneys hand in marriage despite objects made by her good friend and flat mate. He had made serious efforts to study Catholicism as well as German. He was now dreaming and imagining himself as a Member of the Board of Bavarian Stahl Fabrik AG, driving around in a large Mercedes Benz or a BMW, living in a villa on the outskirts of Vienna. Quite a change from a dilapidated mud hut with a tin roof in Jaffna, with a bed on chillie plants in the front garden. 110

Instead of washing dishes in an Indian restaurant, he could have his own Austrian valet taking care of the nitty gritty details of life. He saw himself comfortably seated on a white soft leather executive arm chair, a polished Bavarian oak table in front of him and a brass plate on the door which read Rodney N. Themalaratnam - CFO Executive Vice President International Finance. Wow! Renaté was in her second month of her pregnancy when she decided that she should inform her parents in Vienna, in person, before rumours began to fly. She went with Rodney to a photographic studio and took a dozen pictures of him, in the best possible positions and dressed him in a blue wool Giogio Armani suit that she had picked for him from Harrods. Her father although a practising Catholic, did not like the Jews much. Neither did he like the refugees from Hungary, Turkey or Yugoslavia and especially the gypsies. Marrying into a different ethnic group, especially an Asian or an African or a pagan Hindu never entered the family dinner table discussions. She was not quite convinced if she loved him, but now it was too late to look back. She was carrying his child and for better or for worse, she must now look forward to parenthood. Over a quiet dinner in an Italian restaurant in the West End, Renaté announced, “Rodney, I have reserved a return ticket to Venice, leaving on the following Tuesday and returning after six days. I must inform my parents personally”. Rodney agreed to take her to London Heathrow Airport and meet her upon her return. The Austrian Airlines flight departed from Terminal Two bound for Vienna at twenty minutes part four in the afternoon. There were several rounds of hugs and kisses, sweet whispers, caressing the hands and more kisses whilst they 111

waited in line at the checking in counter. After the departure, Rodney decided to take the public transport instead of an expensive taxi ride. During the past few weeks, Paska his LTTE handler had been generous with his donations to maintain Rodney’s new lifestyle. But there were strict instructions on costs. The underground train to Central London was half empty and he found himself a vacant seat. Facing him was a young man of about eighteen with North African features. After a couple of glances, the young man looked straight into Rodney’s eyes and smiled showing a brown coloured, stained set of teeth. He offered Rodney a cigarette which he accepted, “I am Rodney” and then the other responded, “ My name is Mustafa Khalid. I am originally from Morocco and now living in the East End of London working at a soft drinks bottling plant”. There was something which Rodney fancied about Mustafa Ahmed. Now seated side by side the conversation continued throughout the journey. Several times due to the jolting of the train, Mustafa lent across Rodneys shoulder and Rodney reciprocated by holding on to his thigh. When they arrived at the Paddington Rodney suggested, “How about a beer?” to which Mustafa did not object. After a couple of beers, Rodney said, “If you like spices, I know the best Indian curry restaurant in London. Would you like to try?” Another tube ride to Earls Court brought them to the curry house of Bombay Palace. The Chicken Vindaloo burnt the tongue off the Arab but he did not complain. During the meal, Mustafa touched Rodney with his shoeless feet several times, beneath the table, and Rodney got the hint and he was getting excited. 112

“Let us get a cup of coffee at my flat round the corner, shall we?” Rodney suggested. With two cups of coffee in their hands, both took a seat on the battered sofa and started to watch TV with Rodney’s hand firmly placed in between the thighs of the other. Within minutes both were helping each other to strip their clothes off and started rolling on the carpet engaged in anal sex. Having taken a shower together, both walked the short distance to the Kensington Arms pub. When Rodney woke up around seven in the morning the next day, he was greeted with friendly smile by Mustafa holding a cup of coffee. Both had to run to work, and together they walked to the underground station and headed towards the centre. After a few polite exchange of words, Rodney gave Mustafa a hug and gave him his telephone number at work. All the way to work and back, Rodney was thinking about the previous night and what a night it was. Returning to the flat, Rodney started to tidy the place a bit before he went for his night job at the restaurant. Usually Wednesday nights are good for business. The restaurant had decent takings, which meant the tips, although they were nominal, when added up over a hundred covers, came to a reasonable sum over twenty to thirty pounds. A hard evenings work deserved a drink or two at the Kensington Arms. Just before closing time the business was always brisk. Every one trying to get the last drinks or trying to pick up somebody before leaving. Rodney tried and achieved both in one fell swoop. The middle aged bleached blond was struggling to get a Vodka Martini. “Here, let me get you that drink” and Rodney not only helped to get the drink, but he paid for it as well. Grateful Rosie gave Rodney a kiss and stood right next to him, rubbing her ample tits generously on his arm. 113

Rosie insisted that she bought him the next round and somehow due to his regular status, Rodney managed to get another round of drinks. The bell rang to announce that time was up and all the good patrons must get going. “Listen Rosie, why dont we walk up to my flat and continue our chat over a couple of beers?” Rodney flashing his white teeth, enquired. Inside the dingy little flat, several cockroaches scuttled as the door opened and the two slipped out of their outer garments. After a few drinks, especially in dim lighting, every woman looked a Miss World and Rodney thought that Rosie looked more than okay. Two glasses of Spanish Sauterne supported by some old Jim Reeves crooning set the mood alight for the evening. It did not take much effort before Rosie stripped down to her knickers, bra slung to the floor and started crawling all over Rodney. With Renaté in Vienna, he felt that this was a good opportunity to have some real raw uninhibited sex. Within minutes Rodney was slamming Rosie, who was placed on the edge of the kitchen table, with animal vigour. Oh boy! That was good. Much better fun than with frigid Renaté. Not quite the same as with Mustafa but this is no time to think about history. Without even bothering to wash, they both continued their own versions of Kama Sutra, on the creaking bed for the next hour. It did not take long for them to snore the old beams off, to enter the world of nod. Seven in the morning the clutter of the milk float and man leaving bottles of milk on the door steps woke Rodney. The sight of Rosie, with her mouth wide open, snoring like an old camel, with the breath to match, made Rodney jump off the bed. The combined smells of curry, garlic, beer, wine, stale sweaty body odours killed off any oxygen that was left in the little hovel. 114

A quick visit to the ole toilet and a wash, Rodney sat next to Rosie with a strong cup of coffee and tried to wake her up. “Just fuck off and let me sleep” was her response. The smell reeking off her breath and other odours were foul and utterly disgusting, even for Rodney. He could not leave her there on her own and for the next hour Rodney received a barrage of raw abuse from her. Eventually he managed to put the clothes on her and walked her upto the road towards Cromwell Road. With a sigh of great relief, he headed towards the Earls Court tube station. The next few days he concentrated on his day job as well as working in the restaurant but dropped in for a quick beer on his way home. Over the last few months, Rodney did not get the opportunity to try his steps on a dancing floor and thought he might drop by Hammersmith Palais. The place had not changed much. The same band, the same music and the same type of clientele. Although he did not know the difference between a waltz and a quickstep, nevertheless dancing was the only way to pick up a girl for a quick lay. During the evening luck was not on his side. There were more rejections than acceptances. Eventually he came across a forty five year old Birgit, a Danish woman tramcar driver from Copenhagen, and they hit it off like wild fire. “Waltz Rodney?” she looked at a bewildered Rodney. He could just managed the quickstep shuffle, but loved to rhythm it off with a twist or shake. She could not speak a word of English and he did not understand one bit of this strange guttural lingo. But in a state on inebriated bliss, she got hold of him by his arm and marched outside the Palais and jumped in with him to the first black cab. Giggling and cuddling him, she muttered “London 115

International Hotel” to the taxi driver. Within minutes the taxi came to a halt at London International at Cromwell Road. Arm in arm, they walked upto the reception desk and she produced her key card. The male receptionist took one good disapproving look at Rodney but contained his remark. Anyway the hotel was only a few yards from his flat. Up into the seventh floor, the woman opened the door, pulled Rodney inside and kicked the door shut. Even a highly sex charged Rodney could not believe the hyper-drive this Danish woman had. Muttering “ Grrr, I loved black men with big cock-a-doodles” she tried every trick in the book, a great deal more than Rodney ever dreamt of. Exercised moderately, this could really have been fun, but the volume and the velocity overwhelmed Rodney’s tired penis. Twice she jumped out of bed to pour a glass of Vodka, one for Rodney and one for her. Around three in the morning he woke up to find the blond nymphomaniac snoring away, slipped into his trousers, put the jacket on top and closed the door gently behind him. It was a night to remember. With a slight limp due to inflamed testicles, Rodney walked slowly to his flat and fell into his unmade bed. Being a Sunday and with Renaté away in her home town, there was no desperate rush to get up. After a couple of cups of coffee, with the disc jockey on the Radio One blaring away, Rodney thought that he should nip outside and get himself a copy of the News of The World. The gas cooker had never been used for anything other than boiling water. Neither has the cooker faced a damp cleaning cloth. The old rusty cooker was covered a few millimetres thick in old cooking fat left by the previous tenant and the current tenant never ever bothered to give it a face lift. Since Rodney either got his meals gratis or paid a nominal sum for a plate of rice with a few curries, there was hardly any point in 116

peeling potatoes or frying onions. In any case he could hardly cook. Around two in the afternoon, Rodney walked towards the Bombay Palace, straight into the kitchen and helped himself into plateful of rice with several curries. Taking a corner seat next to the entrance to toilets, he started to flip the pages of the News of The World, read most of the sordid sex stories whilst he consumed his meal. He had taken a day off on Monday so that he could pick up Renaté from Heathrow and spent some time with her. She could bringing in good news which could change his whole life. From a rusty bicycle he rode in Jaffna four years ago, he could be riding on the back seat of a chauffeur driven limousine. He thought that he would certainly change his cigarettes and learn the art of puffing a nice Havana cigar and learn how to enjoy a balloon of Cognac. The plane landed on schedule at ten minutes past twelve and within half an hour, Renaté appeared pushing a trolley with loads of suitcases. Quickly Rodney rushed upto her, gave her a warm hug, planted several kisses on her lips and pushed the trolley towards the taxi rank. All the way home to Putney, Renaté was telling about what happened during her stay in Vienna. “Oh it was a dreadful scene for one week. Mama cried nonstop. And Papa was very upset and spent most of his spare time in his study with his lawyers”. Her father was so shocked, he had finished a half a bottle of Remy Martell until he fell asleep, sitting on a sofa. When she showed them pictures of Rodney, her mother almost fainted. “Is he a Negro?” she asked. So black in colour and those blood shot eyes. How could you? The father and Heinz, her elder brother spent 117

almost the entire Saturday with their lawyers, sitting in her father’s study at home. She did not know what they talked about, but she had an intelligent guess. The Sunday lunch was a traditional family affair and several close relatives had come over immediately after Sunday Catholic service. When they heard that Renaté was pregnant, there were gasps from the ladies and the men simply carried on drinking their wine. But when the details of the father of the child were mentioned, the men gasped and several women almost fainted. A coloured man in this distinguished family? One of those Tamil terrorists called Tigers? And a Hindu? “This will really upset the ancient aristocratic blue-blooded family tree”, said one leading industrial banker sipping his glass of wine. A Hindu running around Vienna pulling carts and wagons with fishhooks on his back during Deevali, the Hindu festival? “Does he know how to use a fork and knife properly?” one of the pompous snobbish aristocratic Viennese ladies enquired. “With his looks from the photographs, what will the child look like?” another lady questioned. Since these were all practising Catholics, no one wanted to take the responsibility to raise the subject of a termination of the pregnancy. “That week was the worst week in my whole life”. Inge who sat in at the discussion remained quiet. She was totally opposed to this union from the beginning. Rodney had nothing to add. He knew he had the cards stacked in his favour. “I am afraid, I have to nip outside. Jamie Alexander is 118

meeting me outside to show off his new Ferrari and after a Chinese dinner we plan to go to Annabels for drinks”. Alexander is a young handsome and a famous designer. Every girls dream. After a while Inge left the flat saying that she would be home just after midnight. This was a common practice between the two girls. They always informed each other about their movements and generally looked after each others interest. No sooner Inge left the flat, Rodney started to console Renaté by asking her not to worry too much and that everything would settle down with time. Hugging and kissing her, he gently undid her blouse and started to kiss her breasts. In a depressed mental state, she responded to his physical amorous attentions and soon they were in bed. Just before midnight he left the flat. Just after midnight Inge arrived and knocked on her friend’s door to check if everything was all right. For the next four hours the two girls spent discussing the situation. Renaté said once again that she was not quite sure if she loved Rodney or whether it was simply infatuation. Before she arrived in England, she broke of a four year affair with her first and only boy friend. As all her family claimed, he was a fortune hunter. A gold digger. She was madly in love with him until a detective working for her father, produced pictures of the boyfriend having sex with another young woman during a holiday in Cannes. He had told Renaté that he was working at his father’s farm and borrowed several thousand dollars from her in order to help out his father. That put a sad end to the romance. The following day Renaté went to her work and the news was out. As she entered the reception, there were bouquets of flowers and several of her friends hugged and kissed her. One of them had brought a bottle of champagne and celebrated the 119

news of the intended marriage and of course the future motherhood. That reminded her that she had to make an appointment with her gynaecologist for a check up. The following day she called Sir Charles and made an appointment for the next afternoon. Soon after that telephone call, Rodney called to ask her if they could meet that Wednesday evening, to which she responded in the affirmative. Around seven in the evening both took a taxi to the West End of London and saw Saturday Night Fever with John Travolta in action. Since the appointment with Sir Charles was at two in the afternoon, Renaté did not go to work. Also she had been suffering from the morning sickness due the pregnancy. She laid in bed, totally confused. After a cup of coffee, she spent the next hour soaking inside a warm bath. Just to get some air she ventured down to the river bank and started walking towards Putney Bridge main road to grab a cab. The taxi ride took over twenty minutes to Harley Street due to road works at Hammersmith and the secretary to the gynaecologist welcomed Renaté to the consulting rooms. The tall elegant specialist appeared as distinguished as he always looked, shook Renaté’s hand gently and directed her to one of the consulting rooms. After a thorough check up, he proclaimed that every thing looked quite normal but as a matter of routine several tests would be conducted. After the blood was extracted for testing, Renaté took a taxi back home. Once again Rodney arrived at the flat, as a surprise visit, around seven, armed with a box of After Eight mints, but the two girls had already decided to go out together to see Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats. Renaté excused to Rodney that the two girls had not been out together for ages and they wanted to have a “girl chat.” The next day at office, during a strategy planning meeting 120

where Renaté was sitting-in, the meeting was interrupted by the telephone operator saying that there was an urgent phone call for Renaté. Thinking it was Rodney, she excused herself to her own office to speak in private. As she said “Hello Rodney, errrr” the other side responded by answering, “Good Morning Miss Schmidt, this is the secretary to Sir Charles Hudson-Thistlethwaite. Sir Charles would like you to come to his consulting practice today at two o’clock, if that is all right with you”. Accepting the invitation, Renaté returned to the Boardroom and joined the meeting. Around one thirty in the afternoon, Renaté took a taxi to Harley Street and was greeted by the secretary to Sir Charles, and let her to the physician’s antique laden consulting room. “Aah my dear” said he extending his right arm decorated with a massive Rolex gold watch, “ Do sit down”. After clearing his throat, he went on to add, “Well dear, we have had received all the test reports, but one major concern forced me to invite you with utmost speed”. Renaté became quite nervous and began to twiddle with her handback and pulled out a packets of facial tissues. She could hear her own heartbeat. “I must get to the point now. The blood test results indicated that you have contracted a serious Social Transmitted Disease a STD, since you had the previous test,” and added, “I strongly recommend that the pregnancy should be terminated forthwith and you should be under a series of antibiotics with immediate effect”. 121

That was a thunderbolt which Renaté never expected. Her mouth dried up totally and tears rolled down her sides of her cheeks as if some flood gate had been smashed. Taking a sip of water from a glass which the doctor offered, she asked, “How soon can you perform this abbbbb..er...termination, doctor?”. Coming round the table and placing his hands gently on her shoulder, he said, “In fact I have made all the necessary arrangements in the surgery and we could start preparations immediately”. Controlling herself, she asked the doctor if she could speak to her best friend and ask her to come over. With the agreement of the doctor, she telephoned Inge and asked her to come to the Harley Street surgery at once. When Inge was shown into the the surgery, Renaté had already been changed into white surgical garments and been checked for her blood pressure. They hugged each other and began to sob. After a half hour, the nurse asked Inge to visit her office and explained that Renaté will be held overnight after her abortion and depending on her condition she might be allowed to leave the following afternoon. Perhaps she could telephone the office to ascertain the status, and if everything was in order, she might accompany her friend home. Wishing good-bye to Renaté, placing a Rosary in her hand and thanking the nurse, Inge walked a couple of miles to a Roman Catholic Church of Our Lady at Marylebone Street, prayed for a while, lit a few candles and took a taxi home. She was so depressed, she poured herself a large cognac, sat in front of the TV and cried her eyes out. Suddenly the ringing of the telephone broke her trance. When Inge lifted the receiver, the caller in a heavy Tamil accent, simply said, “It is me my d..d..darrrling, how are 122

you?”, since it was Renaté who always answered the phone. “This is Inge. Listen Rodney, you had better come over here as soon as possible?” and she replaced the receiver. She had to regain her composure and select her words very carefully, despite the fact that she would like to kick Rodney right into his balls. A warm shower, a change into a casual pair of denims, she poured herself another large cognac and with that in hand, walked onto her balcony. The river Thames always offered a soothing relaxing feeling. Except for the odd rowing boat, the river extruded peace and harmony. Just then the door bell rang. Rodney was standing at the door, beaming and as he walked in offered his hand to her. Inge simply ignored that gesture. “Just sit over there”, she commanded pointing to an arm chair. “Where is Renaté? Is everything all right?”, Rodney enquired. He saw the devil in Inge’s eyes. He was confused. No usual civility. No offer of a glass of wine. His pulse began to raise and he really needed a drink. But he did not have the guts to ask. “Rodney!” said Inge, in a commanding voice, “Listen to me very carefully. Renaté is in a private clinic. The blood test results showed that she had contracted a serious Socially Transmitted Disease or STD as it is commonly known. As you know very well, she had no other boy friend other than you. Right at this moment, whilst we are talking, she is undergoing an abortion. All I can tell you now, is that, you will no longer be welcome in this flat and as far as Renaté is concerned, you are history. Stay away from us. You had better get yourself fast to a clinic to sort out your venereal diseases”. “Now you may leave now and don’t you ever call this flat again. You are no Tiger, Rodney Themalaratnam, but a dirty little rat!,” said Inge and closed the door after Rodney. 123

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO GET A RAT TO CATCH A RAT

That was shocking news. The end of the world sounded less drastic. That ten minutes seemed like a ten years. Confused and suffering from absolute shock, He walked over the Putney bridge towards Hammersmith. He just wanted to think. He had fucked up a gold mine couple of million dollars due his loose zipper and a dick with wanderlust. He needed to talk to some one. To any one. He stopped at a telephone booth. He had to inform about this incident to Paska, his LTTE handler. Rodney circumventing the true nature of the story, explained that he got booted by Inge on behalf of Renaté for some obscure reason, perhaps jealousy. Perhaps they are lesbian lovers or something. His handler did not believe him and ordered him to be at the Bombay Palace within the hour. LTTE always had a strict disciplinary code of conduct and sometimes handed down drastic punishment to their members for breaking the LTTE law. When Rodney went down the stairs leading to the restaurant, one of the waiters asked him to go straight into the kitchen. As he walked past the piles of dirty dishes, he saw the angry blood shot eyes of his handler, simply known as Paska, staring at him. With Paska was another Tamil who simply stated his name was Vittupillai. As Rodney extended his hand, he motioned Rodney to come towards the rear exit, pushed him next to a pile of rubbish bins and punched squarely into his lower abdomen. Grasping for breath Rodney bent in two and Paska, lifting him by his hair, administered a good dozen slaps onto both sides of Rodney’s face. Then Vittupillai pulled out a flick knife and lifted Rodney by 124

his chin, placed the shining steel blade next his cheek and commanded him to start telling the truth. Squatting next to one of the piles of rotting garbage, he explained the events leading to the termination of the relationship. A furious Paska, kicked Rodney right between his testicles and told him that he had to return all the funds that were advanced to him with an added 100% interest per annum. In future, he would be expected to pay a penalty of 25% of his gross income to the coffers of LTTE, for life. For six weeks, Rodney worked like a nigger. Early morning to his bookkeeping job, from nine till four thirty, then two hours at the polytechnic, then to the restaurant and helped in the kitchen. He was paying in full for his sins. He had no way out. Rodney knew that if he took one wrong step out of line, one of the LTTE Terrorist minders will certainly castrate him. He had heard through the grapevine that other serious punishments were awarded to those who tried to be too clever. The LTTE put the Sicilian Mafia in the shade when it came to punishing its own cadre. That particular Thursday, since there were no lectures at the polytechnic, Rodney came to his flat, after a cup of coffee, he decided to walk up to Kensington Arms for a beer. He was half way through his pint of lager, when a young man looking totally lost, came and sat next to him. After offering a light, when he introduced himself as “My name is Rodney” to the young man, he responded by staying his name, “My name is Don”. Rodney took an immediate fancy to the young man. Whilst the two were talking, seated on two bar stools, a tall man sporting a dark moustache, hair covered by a cloth cap pulled down, asked the bartender for a half a pint of Carlsberg and walked towards a seat at a quiet corner of the bar. 125

Don did not say much. It was Rodney who was doing the talking, asking questions. This was the first day out for Don, after eight years in Prison, he did not know what to say. Don had met several Indians and hundreds of Africans in Prison. He did not have very many pleasant experiences. Especially his rub with Trevor, the big black West Indian, a memorable nightmare, which would never fade out of his memory. “One can never change the stripes on a Tiger” goes an old saying. After a few minutes of chat, Rodney offered to replenish the beer for Don. Due his bleak financial situation in hand, he gratefully accepted the offer from his new acquaintance. When it came to the next round, Don apologetically told Rodney, “Sorry mate, I am a bit broke” . With a friendly smile, Rodney ordered another round of drinks and paid for same. Half way round the pint, Rodney asked Don, “Would you fancy an Indian curry. It’s on me.” Finishing the drinks, both started to walk towards the Bombay Palace. Being early for the normal dining clientele, except for a few regular South Indians, the place was almost empty. Don suggested that Rodney ordered the meal, since he was not familiar with the Indian cuisine. Anyway he neither liked the Indians nor their cooking. But hunger and with meagre financial resources, he had little or no choice. The poppadoms were nice and crispy but the Mutton Vindaloo burnt his tongue so much, Don emptied two pints of bitter. Anyway the meal was filling and tasted much better than the Prison fare. “Thanks a lot mate, that was a nice meal.” During the dinner, Rodney, licking his lips and pushing his flock of hair over the forehead, asked Don, “ You are definitely not a local, I can see. Where do you come from?” 126

“Well, I am waiting to meet a friend tomorrow afternoon and then take a train to Aberdeen”, avoiding a direct answer lied Don. Rodney liked the boyish good looks of Don, his athletic body and his general demeanour. Couple of times, Rodney moved his foot towards Don’s lower calf, but Don moved his foot gently away. “If you want to stay in my flat for the night, you are very welcome”, uttered the other. “I live just round the corner”. During this meal and the conversation, neither of them noticed the tall man in a cap, seated several tables away from them, eating a simple plate of rice with a couple of curries, reading a copy of the Evening Standard. He finished his meal much earlier than the other two, paid his bill and walked out of the restaurant. The tall man who was waiting next to a bustop facing the entrance to the restaurant, started to follow the two men as they walked out of the restaurant. Keeping a discreet distance, and also amply protected by hundreds of commuters, he watched as Rodney, followed by Don. led his way to his basement flat at Hogarth Place. Daniel then walked to a nearby telephone booth, called his brother Michael, gave him the address and asked him to get to Earls Court as soon as possible. Then he walked across the street, with his copy of the Evening Standard and took up a vantage position overlooking the flat. Don was feeling tired, well fed and grateful to the hospitality of this unknown Asian. Inside the flat, Rodney offered a bottle of beer to his guest, helped himself to one and switched the TV on. After watching several BBC and London ITV programmes, both feeling tired, decided to call it a day. 127

“I have only this bed and I am nackered. What if I took the left and you take the right side?” To which Don nodded approvingly. Within minutes, Don exhausted, with rice and curries revolving in lager, fell fast asleep. Don, felt so relaxed, he was in dream land within minutes Suddenly the unbelievable thing happened to Don’s amazement, he dreamt that the big black Trevor was holding him from his waist and was trying to push his massive penis into his anus. When he suddenly woke up he saw Rodney’s fully erected warm penis touching his bottom. In a flash, he turned round, grabbed the penis, yanked it several times, whilst pulling it, and then, Don jumped out of the bed. In sheer pain, Rodney screamed. “You fucking son of a bitch. That hurt” and several words in the vernacular, fell on to the floor. Don stood in his under pants, red in his face, about to land a kick to the ribs when Rodney rolled to the side and got up. After a few strong words and apologies, the lights went off again and both climbed into the respective sides of the bed. When the Ford Transit arrived at Hogarth Place it was after midnight. Michael had brought a flask of hot coffee, several bottles of Pepsi, few cans of beer a half bottle of whisky and a pile of sandwiches. Daniel who had enjoyed a curry, opened a can of beer. “He is inside that hovel of a basement with a coloured bloke,” Daniel started pointing at the flat, “this African bloke or something, I think he is a faggot, picked Don at the bar, bought him a few beers and then took him to a shitty little Indian curry house for a meal. Then they walked into the flat about an hour ago.” 128

Soon after they noticed through the drawn curtains, the lights being switched on and some noisy movement in the flat. Then after about thirty minutes, the flat became dark again. Seven o’clock Rodney hit the shower still suffering from a sore swollen penis. After the shower whilst the kettle was awaiting on the gas cooker, Rodney decided to look at the contents of one of the plastic bags which Don brought in with him. There was an old brown paper envelope addressed to Don Carpenter, HM Brixton Prison clearly hand-written. He took a peep into the bedroom and noticed that his guest was still asleep and felt hesitant to wake him up. The Prison envelope worried him. An ex-convict in his flat. What was he in for? Murder? Cannot be, with such a sweet innocent face, he thought looking at Don’s face. Over a cup of coffee, Rodney contemplated what he should do. Should he wake his guest and ask him to leave the flat or let him sleep until his return. There was hardly anything of value which was worth stealing. The total contents of the flat would not fetch more than a hundred pounds at a flee market sale. He decided to risk it, locked the door behind him and proceeded towards the underground railway station. Behind Rodney, at a reasonable distance, walked Michael, towards Earl’s Court Underground Station, right upto the turnstile, and after Rodney punched his ticket, turned and walked back to the van. On his way he stopped at an Iranian coffee bar, bought two cups of freshly brewed coffee, two salt beef sandwiches, a breakfast for both brothers. The height of hustle and bustle of commuters start around eight and gradually slows down around nine thirty, except for a few who start their day with shopping. Just over nine in the morning, Don was woken up by the ringing of the door bell, and still tired, rubbing his eyes, 129

walked upto the door in his underwear. The two men dressed in blue workmen’s clothes stood outside the entrance, one carrying a large tool kit. One asked politely from Don, “Are you Rodney?”, to which Don responded by saying, No, no, I am only a guest and Rodney had gone to work.” The second man smiled, “Sorry for being late. We have to check the gas cooker for a gas leak”, and entered the flat. Don allowed them into the kitchen, put his clothes on and decided to sit at the kitchen table and watch what the two men were planning to do. The man with the moustache pulled the cooker away from the wall and started to fiddle with some of the connections. The other man sporting a beard, suggesting to Don to give a hand to the first man. Whilst Don was helping the first man with some tools, the other took out a small plastic toiletry bag, slipped out a hypodermic syringe, in a flash stabbed into the side of Don’s neck with the needle and emptied its contents. “Arghhhh!” yelled Don, “what the aaaaa fu....,” as a fell down to the floor. The entire action took less than ten seconds and within another ten seconds, Don was lying on the floor. Quickly pushing the cooker back into its place, Daniel walked out with his tool kit to the van and drove the van right next to the entrance to the flat. In the meantime, Michael lifted Don, placed Don’s arm round his own neck and brought him right upto the door. In less than one minute, the limped body was gently placed inside the rear of the Ford Transit. With Michael seated at the back in attendance next to Don, Daniel drove the van through the Great West Road towards Watford. When Rodney returned around five thirty, he noticed the two plastic bags next to the entrance but there was no sign of his 130

guest. In his curiosity, seated facing the TV, he emptied the contents of the plastic bags on the floor. Apart from some odd bits and pieces of no value, there were several old letters addressed to Don at the Brixton Prison. Just in case the guest returned, he placed the two plastic bags at the bottom of a kitchen cupboard and walked to the Kensington Arms for a beer. The drive to Hyde Lane Kings Langley took just over one hour and, when Don was unloaded into the barn, he was almost gaining some degree of consciousness. Michael pulled out another syringe and gave Don a stronger dose of the sedative, and with the help of Daniel, removed all the clothes off Don’s body. Then they proceeded to tie him up in the usual manner, stuck a piece of rag in his mouth, taped his mouth, placed a black hood over his head and then tied him to a post. Michael then doused all the clothes, shoes etc with petrol and placed them inside the stove and threw a lighted match. After eating a couple of defrosted pizza over a bottle of Chianti Red Italian wine, the two boys dressed themselves in a couple of white sheets, two white hoods, resembling the dreaded Ku Klux Klan. Inside the barn, approached Don and lifted the black hood off his face. Waking up from a strong dose of sedative in the dimly lit damp surroundings, Don thought he was seeing a dream. One of the men, releasing the ropes round the body, took Don by his arm, and made him stand up. Don did not have the faintest idea what this was all about. Then the other man turned round to show the letters on the back on his white sheet. Written in free hand with a brush were four red letters, R.A.T.S. Don stared at this spectacle mixed with sheer amazement and fright, “What do you want? Who are you? Where am I?” he began to mumble. 131

“You and your gang of three friends invaded our territorial integrity” said Michael. “Its pay back time!” Then both men removed their masks and dropped their white sheets. By this time Don got the message. He tried to speak but to no avail. He was shaking and shivering with fright. Cold sweat ran down the sides of his forehead. His knees collapsed and he fell on to the floor. With his hands tied to his back, he could not beg for mercy, but as he fell, he landed on his face. The twins, in total silence, lifted Don up, marched him upto the container, removed the hatch. The over powering stench, the screams of the wild, hungry rats, now starved for a week, was frightening. Michael pulled a razor an slashed Don’s toe. Blood came oozing out. Holding the ends of rope from the hands and feet of Don, they lowered him into the container, so that his body entered the base of the container horizontally. The rats which numbered to several hundred, starved for over a week, jumped at the first available piece of body which entered the nest. Any screams from Don were completely muffled by the insulation of thick layer of earth covering the containers. If Don did not suffer a heart attack, due to the immense pain caused by the rats ripping off his penis and testicles, he must have reeled in absolute agony for the next one hour or so. Placing the lid back in place, the twins walked back into the shed to clear out any other remaining bits of evidence. The van received a quick flush with a high powered hose whilst the floor of the van received a scrub.

132

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE LOVE HATH NO BOUNDARIES

Chris expected a bit more respect from Don. As his second-incommand for several years, he felt that Don should have visited or at least contacted him immediately upon his release from Brixton. After waiting anxiously for over two months, he sent a long letter, expressing his love to Julie asking her to visit him as soon as possible. He also wrote that upon his release, he would like to start a family with her. The Prison authority sent a photocopy of this intercepted letter to Scotland Yard Special Antiterrorist Branch. Officers at the Yard did not know how to interpret the letter. With two of the released prisoners disappeared without a trace, they began to think that Chris was hatching a new plot. They felt that by giving more attention to this new development, Julie might lead them to something new. In the meantime their main conduit to Julie was keeping her warm and content. After the three day jaunt between Julie and John in Chesham, they both returned to their respective homes but maintained contact by post and occasionally by telephone. Several times Julie visited John’s London flat at Swiss Cottage. The flat which was one of rented by the Special Branch and made available for use of its officers in the line of duty, became the London home of John Gibbs. Julie met John at the famous Swiss Cottage Restaurant, a few weeks later after their meeting in Chesham and they repeated their meetings several times thereafter. On the first, occasion after a welcoming drink at the pub, John walked across the busy street with her to his third floor flat and within seconds, the thunder and lightning of love making shook the flat. This became more of a ritual every time they met. “Actually, why dont we spend a quiet evening by the telly, 133

with Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine?” “I have a bloody two day sales meeting in Manchester and have to take the 7.10 train. I plan to take a little rest before the mayhem starts” he said quietly. “That’s lovely. Never been to Manchester. Would you mind a great deal if I came with you? I’ll stay out of your way and wait for you”. Damn good pair of liars, the both of them, John thought. After a shower, John went out to get a Chinese take away and the evening they spent in quiet harmony in front of the TV. The following morning, they took a taxi to Kings Cross Railway Station and took the Intercity Express bound for Manchester. According to John, his ‘company’ had reserved a room at the Holiday Inn and he only had to sign the already completed registration card as they walked into the hotel. The room was comfortably appointed and he offered a glass of champaign from the mini bar to her. As an expression of gratitude, Julie embraced him, started kissing him and led him to the large queen sized bed. An enjoyable hour was spent in bed by both. The dinner at the hotel brasserie, a sirloin steak with the usual fries and steamed Brussels was not the best, but neither of them fancied a head on collision with the damp windy weather of the industrial North. After a few drinks at the lobby bar, both returned to the comfort of the room and watched TV from the bed. The wake-up call woke both of them at seven and John took the first shot at the toilets. Whilst Julie was taking her turn, the tray of Continental breakfast arrived. John said that he had to be at the Rank Xerox Training Centre by nine, kissed Julie and left the room. Allowing a decent hour to get dressed, Julie walked down to the entrance of the hotel. As she came down, the man who was reading a copy of the Daily Express got up 134

to follow her. “Taxi, madam?” Julie ignored the offer of the doorman to get a taxi and started to walk towards the main road. The man with the Daily Express, climbed into a waiting white Toyota Corolla, and the driver started to trail Julie. Just around the corner from the hotel, she hailed a black cab and gave instructions to the driver. The Governor of Strangeways had not only given special permission to Chris to meet with Julie but also allowed them the facility of a private room. When Julie arrived at the gate, she was escorted through a maze of corridors to a small room. Inside was furnished, not with the usual wooden table and two benches, but with a sofa, two arm chairs, a coffee table, a coffee maker on a side table with several plastic cups. Within ten minutes Chris arrived into the room, “Julie, my Julie, how are yer? Missed you a lot”, hugged and showered Julie with dozens of passionate kisses. Without a word being said, both pealed their clothes off and started to make passionate love to each other rolling on the vinyl floor. Unknown to both of them, a cleverly hidden video camera and several miniature microphones recorded every single movement and hisses, they both made. Whilst Julie was making the coffee, Chris lit up a cigarette and started to pace around the tiny room. 135

“Tell me” more of a command than a request, “What have you got on James and Geoff?” He wanted a full report of Julie’s investigation into the disappearance of Geoff and James. She explained every single detail of her visit to Chesham, carefully avoiding the escapade with John Gibbs. She said that after three days of her investigations, she came across a blank wall. “And Don was released several months ago from Brixton but heard nothing from him either. I am really pissed off with the lot. No respect or gratitude from my mates”. “Sweetie, I promise, when I get released, the first thing I would like to do is to marry you and move out of England. Perhaps with some help from old friends, we could settle down in South of Spain”. “In the meantime, you should get yourself a divorce from your husband and start making some preparations for my release. I have several ideas of my own”. But Julie had other ideas. Why get into deeper trouble by marrying an ex-convict, a murderer, when she had a much better, decent choice with John. Whilst nodding her head in approval, she decided that she would quietly disappear from Norwich and move into London with John. By the time Julie returned to the hotel, showered and changed, John had a rerun of the amorous adventures of Julie in Strangeways, by courtesy of a Police courier who had delivered the video cassette to the Police station. Although it was a part of a well laid out plan, the contents of the video did not please him much. Since he had practising unprotected sex with Julie, it would be difficult to justify the use of a condom suddenly. He was pretty certain that Julie would demand action in bed that evening. 136

He decided to use the oldest excuse in the book, “the famous headache”. When he arrived at the hotel room around seven, Julie was lying on the bed, watching TV. As he removed his overcoat off, she jumped out of the bed, gave him a massive hug and started to kiss him all over his face. He responded in a calm but a distant manner and said that he was suffering from a splitting headache. Julie playing the role of a loving wife, offered to get a couple of aspirins from the reception and John said that if he rested for a while, it might help. After a light meal of fried Dover Sole, croquet potatoes with an assortment of garnishes and a bottle of wine, both decided to have an early night. The next day John spent most of his time with the Prison Governor, discussing the background and behaviour of Chris. He learnt that, apart from a few letters from Julie, Chris did not receive any other mail or telephone calls. After the first two years of ragging by the other convicts, Chris remained almost aloof, all by himself.

137

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR THE BIG TRAP

The last hangings in England was those of Peter Anthony Allen at Walton Prison Liverpool and Gwynne Owen Evans at Strangeways Prison Manchester on the 13 August 1964. the executions taking place simultaneously at 8.00am Strangeways prison, occupies a sloping site above Bury New Road. The 1830's map in the Salford Local History Library shows that Strangeways Hall and grounds used to occupy this location. Fifty years ago, escapes were fairly common, but after renovation of the prison in the early 1990's, HMP Strangeways must now be one of the most secure in the country. Chris had no intentions of escaping from Strangeways. Even during the murder trial, his friends and mates deserted him to the wolves. He had to depend on the State Legal Aid system to defend himself. The least he expected from his own immediate cell mates was at least a courtesy call on their release. Not even a simple post card saying, “All is Well, Wish You Were Here!” Despite all the rigour in Her Majesty’s Prison, life was cool. Yet, freedom and fresh air was in sight. Still under forty years,he expected to enjoy a full life with a wife and a couple of kids. Julie would do fine. In any case it would take a hell of a gamble to find a suitable life companion. Then about a job. Would not like going back to Bletchley. Perhaps move into London for a while. Get a job in the Smithfield Meat Market and then move on, perhaps to Spain. Get away from the horrid British weather. Getting a job in a bar or a discotheque in Costa del Sol or Majorca would suit him fine. 138

Most of all it is important to find out what happened to James and Geoff. Have they formed a cell with someone else? Bastards, he thought. And now Don. He has been released for several months and not even a whisper. Where is the world going to? What happened to the old fashioned values such as loyalty? Well at least Julie is standing by him. Millions of flashes of thoughts ran amok through his mind. In the meantime Michael and Daniel were having thoughts of their own. “Do you have any bright ideas on how we could get hold of Chris Evans? asked Michael. “Think Michael, think!” responded Daniel. “You are the one with creative thoughts”. “The thing is that we do not know how he looks like now. And the other is that, he is a vicious evil fighter”. “Right. It is not going to be easy like the other three. Also he may have heard what happened to the others and he certainly will be on his guard”, Michael confirmed. This conversation went on for about one month, every evening, over a couple of drinks. One of those evenings, Michael suddenly got up and said proudly, “I think I have a plan.” Over a few more glasses of Beaujolais, Michael started to unravel his idea. “We should not chase Chris Evans all over the countryside. We should get him to come and meet us” Daniel was petrified. His goose pimples rose along with his dark feathery chest. Michael went on to elaborate. 139

“First, we shall send him a teaser post card, posing as Don and give no address. Since we both know that Don hardly had any time to write postcards”. “Second we wait for a while and send him another, also without an address. And the third time we shall ask him to meet Don at the Kensington Arms in Earls Court Road, when he gets his release”. As usual, the authorities at the Strangeways Prison intercepted the post cards and sent photocopies to John Gibbs. In the meantime, an overjoyed Chris wrote a passionate letter to Julie about his impending release on parole and informed her about the postcards from Don. This letter too was copied to Gibbs. Over the next month, Michael grew a moustache and a beard. Then over a few trips to London he passed by Kensington Arms for glass of expensive Mouton Cadet de Rothschild. His tips were always generous and over the top. After a few visits, he got to know several of the bar staff and introduced himself as “Don.” Now he felt that he had now created for himself an identity. Occasionally, he would ask one of the barmen if anybody had enquired for “Don.” And the response was, so far negative. The following Wednesday as Michael ordered his glass of red wine, one of the barmen came upto him, “Hello Don, there was a pretty young lady asking after you a couple of times yesterday”, and gave her description. Michael finished his drink and reached for the public telephone. He called Daniel, “Listen brother, I think we got a bite. Get over here pronto. Take the Tube”, and walked towards the Earls Court Underground Station. 140

They had agreed that the quickest way to get from Watford to Earls Court in the rush hour is by the Underground. Two changes and within forty five minutes one can be in South West London. “I’ll wait in the car. You go inside and get yourself settled at the bar. When you see this woman, let her make the first move”, Michael said. When John Gibbs received a telephone call from Julie, he was not surprised. “Darling, would you mind if I stayed with you for a few days to find myself a job?” “Of course not.” was the answer. Actually, there was a certain element of truth in that question. Julie had made up her mind to relocate herself in the big City and get closer to John. She was planning to visit various employment agencies in and around the Central London in search of any suitable position. When John received copies of the postcards sent to Chris by “Don”, he expected a telephone call from Julie. However, the instructions from John’s superior was that, he should not make any moves, until further instructions. The entire situation is now being monitored by the Antiterrorist Squad. Around 6.30 pm, as the Kensington Arms was getting filled with its usual clientele, Julie walked in. By a stroke of luck, she stood just a couple of bar stools away from Daniel. “A lager and lime please ,” said Julie to the busy barman. Upon handing over the cash, she enquired, “Has anyone by the name of Don been here today?” 141

“Yes love. He was here about a couple of hours ago. Had his usual expensive red wine and left .” “Expensive red wine?” thought Julie. When did this yob learn to drink expensive red wine? That puzzled Julie. At the same time she did not discount the fact that this could be a signal. Taking the glass of lager and lime, Julie ventured towards a corner seat. Carefully watching the episode, Daniel did not waste any time waiting for invitations. He moved in. “Would you mind if I sat next to you?” “Suit yourself. Its a free world.” Julie snapped. “Sorry to be rude, but I think I overheard you asking for Don.” Julie got a shock. Whilst taking a sip from her glass, she took a glance at the speaker. Could this be a trick? “So what?” she said in a soft whisper. “Why, do you know Don?” “Yes. He is one of us.” “And where is he?” asked Julie “Not very far from here. And who are you?” “A friend of his.” responded Julie. “Well, he did not mention about any female friends to me.” “I need to talk with him before I can arrange to meet up with you. Where can I reach you, by phone or by letter?” This was tricky. But it is quite normal to receive letters from employment agencies informing of the status. So she decided to give John’s address in North London. “See, I have applied for several jobs and in the meantime, I am staying with a friend. You could write to me there but could you pretend to be an employment agency?” 142

“I should think so. When I send you a letter, it will be for a position in one of the London hotels, such as the London International at Cromwell Road or London Tara at South Kensington. If I say lets meet at “two”. It means the Tara. If I say that “I’ll” meet you as planned, it means the International.” “But, but, when do you think you will write?” “Yes. We are not done yet. I need to know a bit more about you. So why don’t we go some place else from here. Pretend that I picked you up, so something.” Cheeky sod, she thought, and took his hand and walked out. As they came out, Daniel saw Michael from the corner of his eye. The scene was not a pleasant one. Hand in hand with one of their mother’s killers. One thing both agreed was that, when they started their process of revenge, they will not get their hands soiled with the blood of their victims. But this was an important necessity. Force majeure. Daniel hailed a black London Taxi and climbed in with Julie and instructed the driver to take them to a quiet French Bistro, Le Coq Hardi on High Street Kensington. Michael too hailed another cab and instructed the driver, “Follow that cab.” The French bistro was half empty when Daniel and Julie walked in. The head waiter greeted them and offered them a quiet corner table for two. Michael found himself a small table and was seated nearer the entrance to the toilets. Both Michael and Daniel were well versed in the structure of the terrorist cells, comprehensive information which they received through their contact at the Israeli Embassy in London. Therefore Daniel knew his approach towards a terrorist. 143

“How long have you known Don?” “Ohhhhh, ages” came the response. “Tell me, as a matter of interest, how come that you came to ask for Don at Kensington Arms?” “That shows, isn’t it? That we are on the same side.” “You understand that we have to be very careful. The heat could still be on.” Then Daniel continued, “Do you know what happened to the other two fellas?” “You mean Geoff and James?” “Yeah.” “Actually, I was trying very hard to find them. Went over to their jobs in Watford and Chesham. The blokes seem to have vanished into thin air.” “I think they have joined another cell of RATS”, said Daniel sarcastically. “And what about Chris?” asked Daniel. “Has he changed much?” “Yeah. He has lost some weight. Got quieter but spirit’s the same.” “What does he look like now? Got any picture of him?” “Yeah. He sent me one a few weeks back. But he is in his Her Majesty’s Prison clothes”, said she delving into her hand bag. As she place the photo on the table, Daniel almost felt like vomiting. Visions of the past. The kick which killed his mother. The screaming agonies of his innocent sister. The expressions on his father’s face. Although, they were not allowed to use any bad language anywhere, he remember vividly when the leader used such foul language on his father. Blood. Blood everywhere. He took a gulp of water. 144

Just then the waiter approached, “Ready to order Sir?” “Er, bottle of the house red, please” “And for aperitif?” “Two Pernod’s with ice and a slice of lemon, please.” “What would you like to start with Sir?” looking over Daniel’s shoulder. “Err, We’ll have the Duck’s Liver Paté and follow with your Pepper Steak, please.” “Thank you, Sir” the waiter collected the two menus and departed. “Well, we at High Command kept our distance from the entire case. First, because you lot stepped out of line. Second, we did not want to compromise ourselves”, saying that, Daniel took the photograph, “We will hang onto this.” “Anything for dessert, Sir?” “Lets try the sponge. And two large cups of coffee and two brandies, please” Julie was taken aback with the style and finesse of Dan. Whenever she went out with Chris, it was a simple Steak and chips, washed down with the local brew. But this one here is onto a different taste. Totally different league. “Sorry to ask,” Julie said looking straight into Dan’s eyes, “You seem to be in a different league from my lot.” “Of course, Julie” came the answer. “I am from the Central Command and we rub shoulders with the biggest and the best.” Julie glanced at the watch. It was almost nine o’clock. John must be wondering what she is doing so late. Must have an excuse. Yes, met an old friend and went for a burger and chips. 145

Daniel paid the bill, leaving a generous tip, asked the waiter to hail a cab. But Julie was first with a remark, “I had better take a taxi on my own,” and looked at Daniel. “Thats fine,” said he, slipping a ten pound note into her hand whilst shaking her hand. “We’ll be in touch.” Daniel waved Julie good-bye and just then another taxi moved slowly towards Daniel and the passenger door flung open. “Jump in, brother,” said Michael with a smile on his face, and “Earls Court Road, please” instructed the taxi driver. Within minutes the brothers were in their blue Ford Cortina, heading towards home.

146

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE A SPANNER IN THE WORKS

It was a quiet Saturday morning as usual. A lazy lie in and amble towards the Corn Flakes around ten. Michael was already comfortably settled with a bowl of Corn Flakes on his lap, a mug of coffee, watching BBC when suddenly the security override flashed into action. Daniel who was just walking into the room froze. A blue Rover car was heading towards the door. It was Michael who looked closer to notice that it was Detective Sergeant Paul Wright of Hemel Hempstead Police in the front seat. Daniel moved towards the front door and greeted the policeman. “Good morning, Detective Wright! Do come inside” “Good morning gentlemen. I hope I am not disturbing you at this early hour” he said shaking Daniel’s hand. “Nooo! No. Not at all,” said Michael taking Paul’s hand. “A cup of coffee?” “Yes please. That’s lovely. Milk and sugar please.” Wright got hold of his mug and sat down on one of the soft armchairs. “The reason why I am here is, I got some disturbing news ,” he took a couple of gulps from his cup. “We have reason to believe that the last fella to be released, Don Carpenter is alive and kicking, somewhere. We don’t know exactly where to be precise”, he said, looking at the two boys who kept a straight face. “Err, how do you know about this?” Michael asked. “Actually, we have been keeping a tab on the last fella, the leader of the gang, Chris Edwards. He has a girl friend, called er a companion, sort of lovers, you see.” And went on, 147

“We intercept all their correspondence as a matter of routine. And recently, Edwards received a couple of post cards from Don Carpenter. Edwards then sent a note to this Julie Evans asking her to check out Don.” “We know that she came over to a London pub to meet this fella Don. But the powers be thought they will not follow her the first time, but just wait and see. We of course are being kept informed.” Michael looked at Daniel’s face but said nothing. “The Chief Inspector sends his best regards and want you to know that we shall maintain our vigilance.” Saying that Wright got up and walked towards the door. The boys thanked the Sergeant for his concern and bade good-bye. “Thank you Sergeant Paul Wright” shouted Michael with a beaming smile. “Right. We have to be very careful. This means we have to take absolute precautions” said Michael. “Planning the next move,” said Daniel “with a bit of imagination. Now we have to check out when the monster will be out. Let’s give a call to Julie” Said that, Daniel visited Manpower, an international recruitment and placement agency and applied for a job as a van driver. Within a week, he received an invitation to attend an interview. Carefully he masked out the contents and just copied the letter head part of the paper. Using the copy, he made up an invitation to Julie, asking her to attend an interview at 2.00 pm the following Monday, giving the name of a company which he lifted from the London Yellow Pages. The Antiterrorist Unit which intercepted the letter noticed that the letterhead was not original and decided to contact the company which purportedly sent the letter. They were not 148

surprised when they learnt the truth. Therefore they decided to put a couple of plain clothes men to check it out. Whilst an unmarked car followed Julie to the Swiss Cottage Underground, two Special Branch detectives followed Julie on foot. Simply as a precaution, Julie changed the tube several times. Then she came out at Oxford Circus and walked into Marks & Spencer lingerie department. As she guessed, there were two men who had been changing trains several times as Julie did, checking ladies knickers on the other side of the store. She walked out of Marks & Spencer and started to walk towards Marble Arch. As she approached Selfridges, she took a quick turn into the store and took the elevator to the second floor. Then she grabbed a couple of dresses and slipped inside one of the changing consoles, and started trying the merchandise. After a good fifteen minutes, she came down to the ground floor, took the exit out of the Food Gallery and jumped into a passing taxi. “Harrods, please” and settled into the rear left corner. A real professional still. She looked back several times noting the registration numbers of the vehicles following immediately behind the taxi. When she noticed that she had shaken off any tails, she moved over and asked the taxi driver to head towards the London Tara Hotel just off Kensington High Street. She paid the driver and walked through the sliding doors and noticed Daniel seated on a leather sofa against one of the glass partitions. As she walked towards him, he got up and greeted her with a smile and a handshake. “Sorry I am a bit late.” She moved closer to his right ear and whispered, “I had the feeling that I was being followed. But I did a few detours and shook them off. I hope.” 149

“Glad that you could make it. Yes, you are absolutely right. We are certainly under observation” Daniel then started to walk away from the windows, leading Julie, into the Brasserie and took a corner table behind a huge potted palm tree. “Right. What will you have?” Since the waitress was standing over them. “I think tea should do fine” “A pot of the Ceylon brew, please and some of your scones, if they are fresh” said Daniel to the waitress. “OK Julie, what is new?” “Actually, the only thing I know is that Chris is due for his release in about six weeks time, but I have no immediate plans to see him right now.” “You see, we have to be extremely cautious when we meet. There are several things we want to discuss, in private of course. You know the rules.” “Yes I understand” nodded Julie quite subserviently. “Try one of the scones. They are still warm.” “Yeah. Straight from the microwave.” “As you well know, I cannot give more details than you know right now. But it will be very helpful if you could find yourself a job in town, so that we could contact you during prearrange times.” He continued, “In the meantime, we shall agree the next meeting, date and place. Next Friday week at six on the Fifth Floor cafe at Selfridges. But do not make any moves when you see me. If you feel that you are being watched or followed, just open your handbag and take your lipstick out.” After a brief exchanges of pleasantries, Julie left leaving Daniel to finish the rest of the tea. Around five o’clock Daniel reached home. Michael arrived soon after six. Time for a run down on events, but nothing much to say. At least Daniel was 150

keeping the connection warm. Michael poured two large Scotches and the brothers with a Scotch in hand settled in front of the TV. “Time to put our thinking caps on and have all the options in place” said Michael. “First, we have to get our Transit organised into a mobile clinic cum conference room” Daniel suggested. “And let me tell you why.” “After we hook in Evans, we do not need Julie anymore.” Michael went on, “Let’s be fair. Although she was a part of the gang, she had no part in the tragic happening that evening. So we shall leave her out of the equation.” After a lengthy discussion, Daniel went off to his bedroom leaving Michael to continue with an old John Wayne western.

151

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX CLOUDS OVER THE MOON

Overlooking the small cafe on the Fifth Floor at Selfridges is an Art Shop. Pictures, paintings, frames and all kinds of related accessories adorn the walls and display stands. The café itself is small with about twenty to thirty small tables frequented by ageing middle class ladies who have all the time in the world to natter about nothing. Most of the visitors to the Art Shop are looking for a gift and generally browse around, enjoy a cup of coffee whilst considering a purchase and browse again. Daniel was neither interested in art or in the market for a piece of decorative art form. He was waiting for something more substantial. On the dot at six, Daniel saw Julie wandering into the self service counter at the cafe. She helped herself to a large corner slice of chocolate cake and poured herself a cu of coffee and sat down. Daniel moved around so that he was visible to Julie and their eyes met. She did not make any move towards her handbag and after a couple of minutes, Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee and walked towards the table. “How nice to see you,” said Julie extending her hand. “The pleasure is mine” responded Daniel shaking Julie’s hand, sat down. The old ladies who were busy with their gossiping did not give the two persons even one glance. Down to business, Daniel thought. There is nothing to hangar round for except getting the facts. 152

“Anything new?” “Yes. We shall know of the exact date in two to three weeks time” Julie said. “Have you found yourself a job?” “Yes. I am due to start as a waitress at Aberdeen Steak House, Oxford Street on Monday.” She paused and continued, “Then we could meet quite conveniently.” “Then we don’t meet” said Daniel firmly. “At certain pre arranged times I shall telephone and we shall discuss our dialogue in a minute.” Julie was very tempted to say that she would like to resign from the organisation and lead a new life with the new man in his life. But she was hesitant due to the fact, the organisation might not welcome such decisions. In the meantime, John Gibbs was trying to find a way out of the “love affair” and get on with his normal duties. He was getting tired of playing the role of an office equipment salesman. Also the day when the nastiness on Julie might begin to happen during the next three to four weeks. His professional role in the affair was coming to a close. As far as love was concerned, he was only playing his part like old Shakespeare would have put it. “When I call, I shall call between three and four in afternoon one week and the next time it will be between thirty and eleven. Two reasons. First, I do not want to always at the same time and the second, I do not want to when it is busy.”

the ten call call

“I think, that is all for now, Julie. Shall talk to you on Tuesday or Wednesday.” 153

Saying that, Daniel shook Julie’s hand and vanished into the sea of evening weekend shoppers. When Julie arrived to John’s flat around eight, there were no lights on. No music or TV playing. There was no bottle of red wine breathing on the coffee table. That was unusual for John. Something was wrong, Julie felt a bit uneasy to say the least. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a large gin and topped it up with an already opened bottle of tonic water. Just as she sat down on the sofa and switched the TV on, the front door opened and in came John. He looked tired. Quickly Julie got up and walked towards John. “Hullo darling. You look as if you ran into a bus. What is the matter, John?” “Its a long story. To cut it short, I got the boot today.” “John! Sit down. Let me take your shoes off. What can I get you for a drink?” “I think a large, a very large Scotch with a dash of Perrier.” Whilst Julie was fixing the drink, John removed his jacket, threw it on to another chair and loosened his tie. “Thanks Julie.” And he continued, “Bastards. I was pulling in bulk of the major accounts but I lost two big accounts last month due to competition from IBM. In this business one is only good for one day at a time. Past performances mean nothing.” “Look love, I start on Monday at the Aberdeen Steak House. Perhaps we can just about scrape through on my takings for a while. I was told that most of the customers are foreign and 154

they leave good tips. All the tips belong to the server.” “Actually, I have got a couple of potential openings, but they are not in London. I might have to move out to Birmingham or to Manchester. I shall see one or two others next week.” That was not good news. Firstly, Julie liked London. The Swiss Cottage flat was ideal. And John, nice one to settle down with, she thought. And then Chris will be coming out too. Complicated, life is. “Shall I nip out and get some Chinese take away or a pan fry pizza from Pizza Hut, John?” “No Julie. Actually, lets walk to the Swiss Cottage Pub and drown our sorrows and get something to eat there.” When they returned to the flat, both were pretty well tanked up and tired. After a quick shower, both clambered into their Dreamland bed. Julie could not sleep at all. It certainly was not the way she would have liked. If John now packed up and left for Manchester or Birmingham, not only she would have to fund a flat but also she might be exposed to other elements. Since there has been no commitment between John and her, both of them were free to decide on their respective futures. The future certainly did not look like milk and honey but more like a dark cloud approaching the full moon.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN TRAP THE KING RAT

Planning had to be absolutely precise. More like a top military operation. Daniel walked together with Michael to the old workshop. There standing in front of their father’s flip chart, Daniel started to draw out the plan. “Right. Would you agree that somehow we should get him to come outside London, more towards like Watford?” he asked. “Yes. Stands to reason.” “Ideally we should attack the moment he is released, because he will be quite disoriented outside the Prison.” “Agreed.” “I shall keep in regular contact with Julie, at least twice a week. Maybe I shall not meet her at all from now on. It is much safer that way.” “My contact at the Israeli Embassy told me that they would also keep an eye on Chris.” “This is why we have to act immediately, the same day as he is released. I will get Julie to get him down to London towards evening. If he got down to Central London during the day time, he should spend three to four hours travelling and changing the forms of transport” Daniel went on. “We should give Julie a couple of hundred quid to be given to Chris as spending money.” “Yes. So we feed him well so the rats can have a party?” “Absolutely. Let them have a feast!” 156

When Daniel called Julie on the following Tuesday at the Aberdeen Steak House, she did not sound too happy. “My world is coming apart,” started Julie without mentioning Daniel's name. “I am in urgent need to find a place to live. Would you know any place around London, going cheap?” “Not at this moment,” came a stern response, “And what about our friend? Any news yet?” “Nothing over the past two days. I called him on Sunday. He sounded quite cheerful, though.” “Well, I’ll be in touch” and Daniel hung up. In the meantime, Michael was collecting a few bits and pieces daily from the hospital, without any permissions or approvals. “Yes. Yes. I know it is stealing and it is a crime. But it is peanuts compared to what this mob did to mum and to our dear sister.” Several phials of strong general anaesthetic, a couple of bottles of chloroform, piles of surgical bandages, cotton wool, a box of hypodermic syringes and a host of bits and pieces disappeared from the hospital. Daniel bought two pairs of handcuffs from a company which sold security equipment. All these were packed in a logical manner into a Samsonite suitcase. Using an old canvass bag, Daniel created a narrow hood about a metre in circumference and about two metres long. A thick rope was inserted around the mouth of the bag, so that with one good yank, the bag could be closed tight. This was standard procedure when members of one cell is taken to meet a senior commander. The hood is placed by oneself and another member tightens the hood and places the handcuffs. Information courtesy of the Israeli Security Service. 157

Inside the Transit van, Daniel fixed one old bench seat, nearer the side entrance. The interior lights were removed and the two rear windows received a coat of black paint. The rear door was locked using a metal bar secured with two Yale padlocks. The side door handle was temporarily removed so it could only be opened from the outside. Extra rubber seals on the doors and strengthened windows made the vehicle totally air tight. The driver’s cab was separated from the cargo compartment by a metal partition which had a small glass window in the middle. A length of steel tubing which ran the length of the van had been perforated with a couple of dozen holes, with one end sealed and the other end protruding out of beneath one of the rear doors. By using a short rubber tubing it was possible to connect the end to the exhaust pipe. Michael suggested that they purchased two large Tetra packs of fruit juices, into which two bottles of eye drops to be injected into the juices using a hypodermic syringe. Eye drops have an amazing effect to disorient a person within a few minutes, and to make a person to doze. “The effect is very rapid and leaves no trace,” said Michael. The van was still needed for transporting feed for the colony of rats. Some of the rats had grown to the size of a large cat and when kept starved for a few days, turned rather aggressive and were able to jump a good half a metre when the hatch was removed. Daniel called Julie on the following Friday to enquire the status. “It is difficult to leave work even for a quick phone call,” she said, “the manager is a nasty son of a bitch” 158

“Yesterday I had a quick call from Chris to say that he expecting his release within a fortnight in so many different words,” she added, “maybe I shall call him Saturday or Sunday.” When she arrived at the Swiss Cottage flat around five-ish, John was sipping a glass of chilled Chardonnay. “You are nice and early!” Would you like a glass?” “Let me get a quick shower to gel rid of the smell of fried onions and burnt beef,” saying she kicked her shoes off and walked into the bathroom. With hair still wet, wrapped herself in a large Turkish towel, she sat right beside John. “Ummmmm, that’s nice and cool,” said whilst taking a second sip, “much better than the vinegarish house wine we serve.” “It is customary that the serving staff at restaurants drink the wine that is left over by their customers. On a good day, one can even get drunk.” “Julie!” said John in a very soft voice. “There is good news and bad news. I got myself a new job. But it is in Manchester. I shall be the Regional Sales Manager for Philips Computers in the Midlands. And I am being sent for a six weeks training in Aberdeen in Scotland and then to Eindhoven in Germany.” “What about me?” “At this moment, I can just afford to pay the rent for an extra fortnight. During this time you should find yourself a place and send me a note to this address, since I will get my mail redirected for six months,” he said in a sombre tone, 159

“Sorry love, life is tough at times.” Over the next week, Julie asked from all her mates at work about finding herself a small pad. By the end of the following week, she found a basement flat in Ealing.

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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT THE STING

The plan was in place. The idea was to entice Chris Evans to a public place but not a too busy place and then get him inside the van. Daniel and Michael did several dummy runs from various railway and underground stations in North London. The best were Edgware Road, Harrow, and Watford. After many discussions, both decided on using Edgware Road Underground Station as the pick up point. As agreed previously, Daniel called Julie, “Any news?” “Yes. He will be out on Friday this week.” “Let us meet today at the same time, same place. But check out as usual.” When Daniel walked into the Art Section at Selfridges, he noticed Julie sipping her cup of coffee. Taking a careful stock of the surroundings, he awaited Julie’s all clear signal. “Hello” Daniel said extending his hand. “Well, not too bad, I suppose,” she said “Are you going to get something to drink?” “No actually, I am in a rush. One of our people is waiting behind the Selfridges Hotel in a car and I can’t be too long,” lied Daniel. “Where is Don?” “Oh, he is kept in a quiet place. Anyway, this is not your concern” Daniel said quite firmly. “Let me now give you our instructions to Chris.” “First of all, he should be very careful and check out if he is 161

being followed. In any case, he should change a few trains before coming to see you. He should know the drill.” Daniel continued, “He may come into your restaurant. In any case, you will be under surveillance. First give him this money. Give him something to eat and drink,” after a pause he went on, “Then you tell him to get to Edgware Road Tube Station between eight and eight thirty in the evening. After walking for about fifteen minutes, he will find a Ford Transit stopping on his side and the sliding door will be slightly open. He should move the door quickly and jump in. The rest of the instructions will be inside the van.” That said, Daniel shook Julie’s hand and did a smart exit. Around five on a Friday evening is about the busiest time in Oxford Street. The returning office workers scrambling towards the Underground Stations, people doing their weekly shopping, the slow motion traffic is a usual scene. As Chris walked into the Aberdeen Steak House, Julie’s heart began to pump blood at ten times the normal speed. Chris looked around and walked towards an empty table and sat down. Julie walked briskly towards the table, with a broad smile on her face, “Oh you look so wonderful,” and gave Chris a hug. “What can I get you?” “A nice large thick juicy steak and a pint of larger, love.” Julie had noticed earlier, the man in a cloth cap reading The Evening Standard about a million times. He had two small beers and spent over two hours sipping one after another. “I think I am being watched by that bloke in the cloth cap” Julie whispered said softly whilst handing the pint to Chris. 162

“Thanks. I get it” said Chris. “Your new contact was here yesterday and gave the following instructions,” and Julie continued to spell out the details. “We should leave this joint together and at the Bond Street Tube Station, we should go into different platforms an take it from there.” “Give me a place where we could meet and I will pop in the moment I am free,” said Chris. “We can meet tomorrow. It may not be too safe for you to come to my place.” The steak was a change from the standard prison fare and tasted marvellous. He would have ordered a second pint, but it was an order within the Organisation that no alcohol should be consumed prior to or during meetings. That done, he paid Julie, and both walked out of the restaurant together.

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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE GET A RAT TO KILL RATS.

Michael and Daniel were chewing the options to bring Chris to the Monks Farm for their Final Chapter in the avenging their mother’s death and the destruction of their sister. In their daily “brain crunching” over dinner and wine, they did outline a skeleton plan for the capture. Julie is the key to entice Chris into the snare. But then Julie should be left out completely out of the chain of events to come. The second option is to get Rodney involved, but there aren’t any common synergies between Rodney and Chris. Its worth the time to give this option more thought. The next is to put all the finishing touches to the transportation of Chris, once captured. As a well trained in many aspects of terrorist tactics, netting Chris would be a challenge. This would require extreme care in planning and plan implementation. For kidnapping techniques, there is only one known, successful professional organisation, the Mossad, Israel Secret Service. And both Michael and Daniel have excellent connections into the organisation through the Embassy of Israel in London. Although Mossad, MI5, MI6, British Anti-Terrorist Squad consider themselves as allies, they have their own demarcation of territories and specific interests. Such areas are professionally geo-fenced, guarded and known to each other as “no-go-areas”. Violations can result in counter response and are bad for business. Furthermore, all known Mossad operatives are under close surveillance by the British authorities, as all other security agencies, and are accepted as a standard operational practice by one another. These are open secrets, enjoyed by all parties as a part and parcel of the spying-game. 164

This Cat & Mouse game as in Walt Disney Productions cartoon heroes Mickey Mouse has now turned into a Rateating-Rat drama. Since Mossad operatives are under surveillance by British Secret Service, and both Michael and Daniel are under some scrutiny by the local “Dicks”, the venue for a meeting had to be in a busy public location, such as a Departmental Shopping centre, possibly Selfridges in Oxford Street or Harrods in Knightsbridge. Sunday lunch at their paternal grandparents house would be a starting point. Over coffee, whilst Daniel helped grandma with the cleaning of the dishes, Michael took grandpa to the garden and kindly told him that his help is needed to get a message across to their contact at the Embassy of Israel, suggesting rendezvous details. Around 10.00am in the Selfridges Men's Department, casual trouser section is usually quiet, since it is too early for the retired gentlemen and the affluent Middle Eastern clientele. When Michael walked in casually through the side-entrance of Selfridges, past the bakery section, took the elevator to the Third Floor, no one paid any attention. As he looked into some of the casual trousers on display, he could not help noticing a well dressed young man in his middle thirties, in a baseball cap, following Michael’s movements. The young man touched the peak of his cap with his forefinger, which was a known prearranged signal. Michael walked towards the man in the cap and he gave a slight smile and said, “Hello Michael, I am Sammy”, and they both continued to check into slacks and sports jackets. Then he looked straight into Michael’s eyes and said, “ I will wait for you in a Black Cab next to Cumberland Hotel in 15 minutes”, and wandered off into look at shirts. 165

One thing in this “Spy Game” one must never be late. Better get there a few seconds earlier. Casually Michael wandered off towards the cashier, with a pair of trousers he had tried, paid in cash, and took the flight of stairs to the main door in Oxford Street. A quick turn to the right, a brisk walk towards Marble Arch, past the Underground Station, and as he approached the Cumberland Hotel, a Black London Taxi pulled-up, the window slid down, and Sammy smiled and opened the door. There were two others seated inside the Cab seated on the “jump seats”, and Sammy introduced them as Tom and Jerry, with a smile on his face. “Michael, this Cab is one of ours, so we can speak freely” he said pointing to the driver who turned round and smiled. “Tell us, how can we help, and we have all the time in the world for you”. The Cab did a u-turn and drove towards Hyde Park then headed in the direction of Kensington High Street. Then Tom and Jerry, who were silent till now, Jerry a forty year or so well-built with the look of a boxer added, “Michael, we know of your history, and we are here to help. But we need to know the whole story, no holes barred. Just be frank and open. And we do whatever that is necessary to support you”. This placed Michael at ease and he looked at Sammy, then at Tom who seemed to sport a fixed grin on his face, and finally at Jerry. “OK gentlemen. I will give you a full run down”, said Michael and gave a full but a skeleton description of the chain of events, from the capture and assassination of the plumber and the taxi driver, and then the pretty boy, now in the planning of the capture of the gang leader. Michael stressed that Chris is a fully trained professional, physically fit, mentally alert and possibly expecting the worst. 166

Therefore both he and his brother Daniel needed a touch of professional finesse to capture the “kingpin”. Michael went off to explain the condition of the Ford Transit van, a possible involvement of Rodney Themalaratnam, a PLO influenced Tamil LTTE Terrorist front man, and the role played by Julie. Both Sammy and Jerry said at once and in parallel, “Okay!”, then Sammy apologised and asked Jerry to continue. “We know about Chris and also Julie, and many other details which you are not aware of. There are too many “fingers in this pie”, he went on...........”and at this stage, you might find that ‘friendly fire’ might kill the wrong person.” Then Sammy went on....”We suggest that you keep Rodney as the last option. He is one person we do not trust. We know his background and his association with Tamil Terrorist LTTE, who are trained by PLO and IRA. They are parasites living-off blood of their own people. They are low-end racketeers, in Narcotics, Prostitution, Fraud, Blackmail. Just be very careful of these scum.” The Black Can has just now passed the Harrow School and the smartly dressed future leaders of the world are walking on the pavements, complete with their boaters. “What we suggest is that, you involve Julie to pickup Chris from a busy side-street around Marble Arch. We send you one of our special Black Cabs driven by one of us. After Julie meets Chris at a certain pickup point, as she alights, Chris should hop in” Sammy continued, “We will have a back-up vehicle to lookout for being followed, and drive Chris to meet your Ford Transit.” Then Tom intervened, “Drive your Ford to our garage tomorrow night and we will check on the mechanics and update the motor, and tart-it-up in our own style. We explain all details on a need-to-know-basis. We will loan you one of 167

our drivers, to pick up Chris, and then hand-over to you, at the right time.â&#x20AC;? Logistics in place, the Black Cab drove Michael to his home and suggested he arranged the next move with Julie. At the same time, Michael gave the keys to the Ford Transit to Tom to be driven away immediately, so the van could be kitted-up as they deem fit, at no cost to the twins. And Sammy decided to meet with Michael outside the Hotel Cumberland in two days at 10.30 am, in the same Black Cab. As soon as he got inside the cottage, he called Julie to arrange the next meeting before he met Sammy, at 9.30am, and to prepare Julie to arrange the rendezvous with Chris. Since he had no van, he drove his Ford to Watford Railway Station, park the car, took a taxi to collect 20 kilo of offal from the meat wholesaler, and returned to his car at the railway station car park. Carrying a live piglet or two in a taxi would have attracted too much unwanted attention. After feeding the Rat population, and remote flushing the old water, Michael topped up the drinking water container, operated from the shed. The drainage holes at the bottom of the containers, allow the overflowing water to drain and dry up. Venturing inside the containers would be an act of suicide. The Final Stage is being set. The capture and transport of the King Rat will be in two stages. Rodney is redundant, as suggested by Sammy and company. Julia, the female Rat is brought in to capture the King Rat. With those thoughts, Michael carried the sack of offal to be slung into the container to satisfy the hungry rats. 168

StephenLoweÂŠ2012

CHAPTER THIRTY MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Michael decided to sling a few eggs into a frying pan to make scrambled eggs on toast for Daniel and himself, since he feels relaxed cooking. Having laid the table with a pot of English tea from Ceylon brewing, he invited his brother for an early morning tête-à-tête. Daniel got a comprehensive briefing on what happened during the past days with the boys from Mossad, the fixing of the Ford Transit, the Black Cab secure mobile Conference Centre, advice on Rodney and then getting Julie, a Rat to catch another Rat. After breakfast, Malcolm plans to leave the car at the Watford Railway Station Car Park and take the train to Marble Arch to meet with Julie and then with Sammy. At a brief meeting with Julie, he mentioned that the transport to meet the High Command is all arranged and Chris should not contact anybody else, but meet only her at prearranged destinations. For the next meeting, Julie would first meet Michael at the side entrance to Selfridges, when Michael arrives in a Black Cab and receive instructions. cab. Then Michael met Sammy outside Cumberland Hotel, seated inside a Black Cab. Both drove off, and whilst driving, Sammy introduced Michael the features of this particular normal looking London Black Cab. The passenger cabin can be hermitically sealed by the driver electronically controlled from the panel next to his seat. The windows are bullet proof, and can be lowered only by the driver. The doors are dread-locked at a touch of a button by the driver. At the same time, the driver may allow a passenger to get in or out by simply touching the touch-sensitive handles. And the cabin is so well insulated, and sound proofed, with 169

other additional facilities, which will make the gadget wizard Q at James Bond, look like a novice. The passenger cabin could be gassed-up in under 10 seconds and the passengers would fall into a coma in under 30 seconds. After introduction of the London Black Taxi Michael was told that he should wear blue workmen's overalls, surgical gloves, and a black baseball cap for the event. Michael was picked up at 7.00pm sharp outside Hotel Cumberland, and from there, the Black Cab did a smart Uturn and drove down Oxford Street turned left at Orchard St to meet Julie at the side entrance to the food hall at Selfridges. Then I asked the Cab driver to drive upto Kensington Hilton Hotel and double back to Cumberland Hotel but to drop off at the top of Bayswater Road Marble Arch. After that, Julie should proceed to meet Chris as agreed outside Cumberland Hotel, and drive with him upto Kensington Hilton Hotel, Holland Park, tell him that the instructions that, Chris should meet the High Command on his own. The Black Cab belongs to the organisation and the driver has further instructions. According to plan, Julie met Chris, and picked him up into the Black Cab an proceeded towards Bayswater Road. Within a few minutes the Cab reached Kensington Hilton where Julie got off, and the Black Cab headed towards the M4 Motorway towards Harrow. Chris felt suddenly a strange feeling, like the whole body going limp. He tried to open the widow but the button did not work. He knocked on the partition between the driver and the passenger cabin, but the driver did not respond. 170

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Half dazed, he felt that he was in a dreamland, feeling very relaxed and in comfort, sort of lying on a featherbed. In the meantime, Michael met with Daniel, and walked upto the Cumberland Hotel where they met with Sammy seated inside his first Black Cab. They were given a status report on Chris, who is now, totally unconscious in the rear seat of a special Black Cab, being driven towards Harrow. The fully upgraded Ford Transit van will be in Harrow, and two of their operative will transfer Chris to the Transit, sat him down on the special seat, place a canvas bag over his head and face, handcuffed with hands behind his back. He has been given a heavy sedative injection which should last for at least for one hour. “He is all yours” said Sammy and dropped the boys off near the Ford Transit. One of the Mossad operatives, handed over the keys to the van, and without a word said, they all drove off in different directions, into the night. As Daniel started the van, he felt that their old van has had a complete refurbishment. The seats were replaced, new warning panels fitted, the tyres were new, brakes felt firmer and the engine was quieter. A few minutes of drive, showed that the vehicle has had a complete makeover. The acceleration was souped-up, like in a sports car, the ride was firm and smooth. As they drove into Kings Langley, the sharp curves, bumps, rattles were a thing of the past. Daniel drove the van upto the large out building, and Michael opened the side door. The new electronic button was so sensitive and the door smoothly glided to a side, like a knife through butter. And inside on a newly installed Captain seat was Chris, still asleep. Both Michael and Daniel had a tough job pulling him out of the van. As he came out, Chris slumped to the ground with a groan and a thud. 171

With the hands in steel cuffs, Michael and Daniel, dragged Chris into the shed. They were too scared to remove the handcuffs. After removing shoes off Chris, they pulled the jeans and his underwear off. Then using a pair of scissors, they cut-off the outer denim jacket and the polo-necked jumper, making Chris totally naked. At the same time his canvass hood covering his head and face was removed. Looking into his pockets, Michael found a wallet containing a few hundred pounds, which were given to Chris by Julie. “Thats our money” said Michael, “and he will not be needing that anymore” and pocketed the cash. Apart from some other old bits of paper, and a note from Julie, there was nothing else of interest in the pockets of Chris. Whilst Michael was rummaging through Chris’ pockets, Daniel threw a cup of cold water onto Chris’ face. It took a few minutes for Chris to sort of wake-up, look around, but his mouth-gag did not permit him to utter any words. The gas in the Black Cab and the injection still had the effect which made Chris totally confused on his position and whereabouts. To his astonishment he saw that his clothes were removed and stacked next to him, near the fire place, Chris could see that two men were busy, one stoking the fire and the other had a hypodermic syringe in his hand. The first man took the pile of Chris’ clothes which were lying next to Chris, dousing some liquid and feeding them into the fire. The ancient pair of Nike went into the fire last. The mouth dried up and Chris felt that he was going to vomit. But with the mouth stuffed with material and taped with grey carpet tape, he could not do much. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Michael asked Daniel, and Daniel nodded his head in the affirmative. 172

“Let me unmask this monster first and give him a shot, then we should have a chat together, I think”, said Daniel. Even in that dim lighting, Chris began to slightly recognise the twins, and started to sweat profusely. After seeing his clothes and the pair of Nikes being burnt, Chris knew that he was not going to get any new replacements. His main concern was, how would the end of his life reach him. Daniel walked upto Chris and yanked-off his tape from the face and removed the bundle of cloth from his mouth. “What the fucking hell is going on?” Chris yelled. Neither twin responded but kept on sipping their coffee. “Who the fuck are you? And why did you bring me here?” growled Chris. Still no response was forthcoming from the twins. Chris tried to move his hands but they were cuffed by the Mossad operatives. Not even the slimmest chance of wriggling out of them. As Chris tried to get up, Daniel simply kicked ankles of Chris, and he slipped down. Then Michael pulled Chris up by his hair, made him kneel, tied his feet together, wrapped the rope twice round his neck and tied the hands with the other end. “Do you happen to remember, when you tied my father like this, before you kicked my mother?” asked Michael. “And do you remember the scream of my sister, when you raped the little handicapped girl?” Daniel joined. Chris was not moved but simply gave a straight faced look. “Are you the fellas who took my three mates?” And where 173

are they now? Chris yelled. “Oh, your mates have joined a Cell of Rats. And you might like to join them soon” said Michael. “Listen you bloody shitty little Jew boys! I am going to finish you off, when this show is over. Mark my words!” muttered Chris. “Ok Daniel, lets take him to meet the other Rat Cell. Give him a shot first,” said Michael. And Daniel moved forward with the hypodermic syringe. Chris tried to move but his movements locked him even tighter when he screamed, “Dont you fucking touch me with that thing”. Daniel came closed to Chris and moved behind him, with Michael standing in front, a couple meter distance, Chris tried to head butt but the rope prevented him, and nearly throttled him. Just then Daniel jabbed the neck of Chris with the needle and Chris felt totally helpless. With the rope in place, the twins dragged Chris by his arms to the top of the pit, then Michael and Daniel opened the hatch. The noise of the mice, who have got accustomed to receiving food when the door is opened, the screams and the stench is enough to frighten any monster. “What is in there?” Chris asked. “Rats, and a lot of Rats, and those have eaten your Rat mates, all three of them. Now its your turn, you bastard!” Michael said. And added “I would personally like to lower you slowly, but I cannot stand the stench”. Telling that he looked at Daniel. 174

“Before we let you join your mates, let me tell you that, we hope you feel the pain, which my father and my family went through all these years. Now its your turn” saying that Michael kicked Chris straight on his ribs, and he fell on top of the screeching Rat community. The fear on Chris’ face was clearly stampled. The ferocity of the starved Rats gorging into the parts of Chris, tearing the flesh with their razor-sharp teeth, took its toll within minutes. The boys closed the hatch, and walked back into the barn to wash their hands. Neither of them said a word, as they walked into their cottage, and both went into their respective bathrooms to soak under a hot shower. It was past 9.30 pm when the phone rang, and it was Sammy, “Did everything go as planned?” he asked. “Yes. Thank you. Things did” Michael responded. “Are you free Wednesday next to have a cup of coffee at Selfridges or somewhere else?” Sammy enquired. “Wednesday at 10.00 is good. Perhaps we use a random coffee shop of your choice around the West End” replied Michael, “ We may meet outside Cumberland.” As agreed Michael met with Sammy as arranged and the Black Cab drove towards Notting Hill Gate and stopped at a nondescript cafe. Michael thanked Sammy for the generous help they were given. Sammy being a man with a direct no-nonsense approach, opened-up, “Just to let you know, if ever you feel like selling-up your Monks Farm and cottage, we would be delighted to take it off your hands.” 175

Michael had given that idea a few times and had even discussed the matter with Daniel. Now that their primary Mission Accomplished, perhaps its time for both brothers to seek a new life! There might be Life-after-Death, for RATS at Monks Farm!

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE INVASION OF THE RED RODENT

Born and bred in a steel container buried for five years and longer in English countryside, fed on raw meat of live animals and live humans, the sewer Rat turned into a vicious carnivorous creature with a “killer” mentality. Starved for weeks then when a carcass of raw meat is slung into the containers, the war on survival between the Rats was a bloody noisy terrifying scene. Some of the third generation Rats have grown in size to larger than a cat and some even bigger. The corroding steel walls and the perforated floor of the container rust due to the acidity of Rat urine, begun to crack allowed Rats to burrow. Rats, are probably the most formidable and tenacious mammals in existence, swift feet, durable incisors, impressive cunning and intelligence, numbers, an all-consuming sense of self-preservation. Monk’s Farm created The Red Rodent, a new breed with a lust for live game, red meat and blood. The survival instinct and the inherent intelligence of the Rat is as good or even better than that of humans. Curiosity and hunger drove several of the larger adults to burrow into the cracks on the decaying container. Within three weeks several Rats crept out of their underground den into the open. Several female Rats ventured forth to forage for food for the little offspring, hunting at night for both rabbit and poultry from the nearby farms. Having caught the game, the team of hunting Rats returned with their trophies through the thickets and wild hedges back to their nest in the container. The population now reaching upto several thousand Rats, some of those were ready for new adventures and exciting pastures. The Giant Red Rodent is now ready to enter the world! 177

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Escape from Monks Farm Jason Reed’s post war detached house at 17 Hyde Lane, King’s Langley nested on once acre of beautifully laid gardens, surrounded by manicured eight foot conifer hedges. An officer in the Grenadier Guards, now retired, still “fighting fit” at the age of 76 years, lived together with his wife Doris in the three-bedroom elegant detached property. The two children, both boys, Peter and Tom, both in their late 40’s, have two teenage children each. Apart from tending to his rose gardens in front of his property and at the back, retired Colonel John Reed kept to his daily exercise regime as a matter of routine in typical military fashion. He enjoyed going for long walks with his Golden Retriever, Cloud, three times a day, first thing in the morning at 6 am, a leisurely walk after lunch, and a brisk walk around 9 pm to return for his 10.00 o’clock news. Hyde Lane stretched from Railway Terrace winding about 3 miles through the Hertfordshire countryside to Bedmont Road. The narrow country lane with out traffic was ideal for a pleasant walk any time of the day or in the evening. The 73 year old Edith was not too quick on her feet, nevertheless she loved her walk and the country fresh breeze. James had to join one of his monthly FreeMasons meetings at Watford Lodge, and smartly dressed in his Tails, drove out in his Black Range Rover around 6.30 pm. Edith generally walked no more than a few hundred yards, but Cloud in his usual energetic enthusiasm made Edith walk further into the thickets and over grown shrubs. A grey rabbit made Cloud give a bark and made a swift dash after the scurrying animal. 178

Although Edith knew that Cloud was in familiar territory, she walked briskly after him, although the rising dusk and her eyesight should have made her turn around. She heard the bark of Cloud getting further and further away, with her voice getting frailer by the second. As a low-slung branch knocked her spectacles off her face, poor eyesight and the darkness prevented her from locating her eyeglasses. Enough is enough, she said to herself and turned round to return home. She could not walk further than ten yards when she stumbled and fell towards a large rock and hit her forehead, creating a nasty gash streaming with blood. A horde of over hundred Rats were just scrambling out of their nest, and in their usual format of hunting, the Rats teamup into packs of eight to one dozen, spread in an arc-formation and begin to roam. The smell of fresh human blood wafting into the country air made a few Rats stand on their hind legs, and take deep breath. One group began to move with speed towards the smell of blood, and within minutes located the body of Edith lying unconscious in the thicket. Screeches from the group sent perfect wireless transmitted signals to the other groups. As the others headed towards the body, their screams of delight were overheard from by the others rummaging for food. Within thirty minutes, several hundred Rats covered the body of the old woman and stripped the flesh off to the bone. Having eaten all their fill, the groups returned to their nest with food for the babies and the ageing Rats, several times. Within the hour there was hardly any flesh left on Edithâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s body except her bones and her clothes in shreds, soaked in blood. After an enjoyable dinner, Jason returned to Hyde Lane, parked his Range Rover and opened the front door. 179

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CHAPTER THIRTY THREE SEARCH FOR PARTNER & CLOUD

Jason on his return, was a bit more than surprised to find that the home in total darkness. He switched on the lights at the entrance, wandered into the kitchen, switched he lights on and noticed that the dishwasher had done its duty, the kitchen tables, work surfaces were spotless as usual, typical of Edith. Then he opened the rear door, thinking that Edith may have gone to the Greenhouse at the end of the garden and perhaps had a fall. But the absence of Cloud mystified him. Usually Cloud always barks once or twice at the sound of the Range Rover and greets Jason with a big smile, a friendly bark with the tail wagging endlessly. Jason walked upto the kitchen phone, called Peter and gave him the baffling news and then called Tom. Since Peter lives near Harpenden and Tom with his home in Watford, both informed that they would join their father within the hour. Peter along with his wife Patricia in his BMW, and Tom tagged his beloved Tracey along in his Audi, in under forty minutes. All three agreed, they should immediately call the Police in Hemel Hempstead. The local Bobbies in their civvies, in their unmarked vehicles, one with a K9 unit arrived. Usually after 9 pm, most of the neighbours were either gone to their noddyland or buried in front of the TV in a horror or adult movie. Peter opened the door to the two officers standing in the porch. Detective Chief Inspector Mark Simpson and Sergeant David Hancock, walked in and shook hands with the family. “Good evening Colonel , Sir,” shall we start on this matter of your missing wife and the dog?” enquired Simpson. Sgt. Hancock pulled out his note pad and a ball point pen. 180

“Usually Sir, we do not consider a person to be officially missing until three days have passed. But in this instance, we came in immediately due to our concern towards your wife”, said Chief Inspector Simpson. “In fact, because of the time of the day, we thought it might be prudent to bring along our K9 unit and two handlers to quicken our search”, joined in Sgt. Hancock. “Would you mind telling us your events since this morning, leading upto now?” enquired Simpson. John Reed cleared his throat and started, “Its our regular routine, gentlemen. I wake-up at 6.15 am and at 6.30 am, I am outside the front door in my tracksuit, with Cloud for his morning walkies. Generally, we walk down the Hyde Lane for about a mile and double back the same way”. “By the time we arrive, Edith has the breakfast ready, scrambled eggs, enjoyed the usual habit of reading the Times during my munching the toast”, John said. “And around 10.00am we drove to Sainsburys at Hemel Hempstead, parked the Range Rover and took a leisurely stroll into the store. Having done our weekend shopping, we returned home for lunch”. “Whilst Edith was preparing the steak, pealing the potatoes, I went to the GreenHouse at the bottom of the garden to pick a few tomato and a bunch of salad leaves.” After lunch, John ventured into the living room sofa to stretch his legs, with the TV on whilst Edith read the morning papers. Since John was going to his monthly Free Masons dinner, Edith prepared the evening suit, shirt, whilst John polished his shoes. 181

Edith was very particular about John’s sartorial elegance, since the days in the Army. Although the uniforms were taken care of by John’s valet, a soldier, Edith always ensured that John’s cane baton and the leather belt were well polished. On his return from dinner, “I was rather puzzled to find the house in total darkness, and there was no friendly welcome bark from Cloud!” said John. “I entered the hall, switched the lights on, went inside the kitchen, and thought perhaps Edith had gone to the bottom of the garden and slipped and fell. But the lack of Cloud’s bark or the presence, made me wonder”, John rambled on. “Then I walked upstairs, the bedrooms were as usual, spick & span, tidy as usual. And I decided to call Peter and Tom”. Det. Ch. Ins. Simpson then abruptly asked, “Did you have any argument or any reason for a misunderstanding?” “Mom and dad rarely had any disagreements, as far as we knew,” interrupted Tom, “they lived an unbelievably harmonious life together”. Then Sgt. Hancock got up and, “Colonel, Sir, we have two Alsatians and a Blood Hound in our K9 van and we would like to start our search. Could you please give us a garment recently used or worn by Mrs Reed, to be sniffed by our K9 friends?” The Bloodhound (also known as the St. Hubert hound and Sleuth Hound) is a large breed of dog which, while originally bred to hunt deer and wild boar, was later bred specifically to track human beings. It is a scent hound, tracking by smell, as opposed to a sight hound, which tracks using vision. It is famed for its ability to discern human odours even days later, over great distances. Its extraordinarily keen olfaction is combined with a strong and tenacious tracking instinct, 182

producing the ideal scent hound, and it is used by police and law enforcement all over the world to track escaped prisoners, missing people, lost children and lost pets. Patricia nipped upstairs and brought a hat from the cupboard, and a pair of tights which was in the laundry basket, and gave to Sgt. Hancock, who then went outside. There were three police handlers who took the dogs out and allowed them to sniff, and started to jog out of the driveway towards the Hyde Lane. The Bloodhound immediately noted a scent and started to respond to its handler and off they trotted towards the north of the lane. Det. Ch. Insp. Simpson and Sgt. Hancock followed a few yards behind, armed with powerful torch lights, joined by Peter, Patricia and Tom. Tracey decided to stay behind with John in the living room, since it was too much of a stress and strain on the old gentleman. The Bloodhound certainly picked-up a scent and started to get excited followed by the two Alsatians. Suddenly the Bloodhound started to bark quite loud and pulled the handler into the wooded area. The powerful torch lights illuminated the forest, then the Alsatians were getting impatient as well as noisy, with all three dogs pulling the handlers in the same direction. As the dogs drew closer towards an area where the shrubs looked trampled and disturbed, the handler with the Bloodhound was the first to notice a piece of a bloodstained garment, looking like material from an anorak. He immediately radioed the others to inform of his find, and the other two officers moved-in closer, but with care towards the first K9 handler. Step-by-step all three strode with the dogs now barking furiously, until they saw what was left of a human corpse, more of a skeleton. 183

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One of the K9 handlers with the Alsatian, radioed the Inspector to inform of their find and radioed for Ambulance and technical support from the Police station. When the Inspector took a glance at the corpse, he was shocked to say the least. He immediately asked the Sgt. Hancock to prevent the Reeds from getting nearer the corpse till it was positively identified. Within fifteen minutes, support vehicles thundered up Hyde Lane followed by an Ambulance. Reeds were getting nervous as well as agitated for not being allowed near the scene. Two Land Rovers with powerful lights lit-up the area to discover the grim scene, which was immediately classified as a murder scene, and cordoned off, and preparations were being made to install a tented enclosure. Suddenly the quiet countryside became a hive of powerfully lit, noisy radio exchanges between Police investigators. During the next two hours, the site was visited by Police doctors, pathologist, and other investigative scientists, who were aghast at the tragedy, whilst the Det. Ch. Insp. Simpson decided to call in the Criminal Investigation Division detectives to join in. The local Press who had been kept waiting till the Police photographers completed their brief, were allowed to take their own pictures and a brief Press statement was made by Inspector Simpson. The next morning headlines screamed, “The Skeletal Remains of a Body of a Local Woman was Found,” and went on, “Is it Murder or a Werewolf victim?” The news sent spine-chilling fear amongst the neighbourhood. 184

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR MONKS FARM TURNS A NEW LEAF

Michael and Daniel waved good-bye to a satisfactory tenure at Monks Farm, sold to a friend of his contacts at the Israeli Embassy, for a handsome profit. Having spent a couple of months simply relaxing on a Carribean cruise combined with an adventure tour of South American Rain Forests, both decided to settle down in Israel. Having done a few renovations to the cottage and outer buildings, covering any tracks and potential hazardous evidence, they received planning permission to construct a guest bungalow on top where the containers were buried. Most of the planning were done by a close Jewish architect friend who suggested that a prefabricated concrete foundation is laid around the spot where the containers are, and prefabricated concrete modules are secured, to complete a cottage, as servants quarters. Good planning was needed by a confidant who would take into consideration the past, to lay the water and sewage infrastructure, without disturbing the containers beneath. The new owner, Rob Gold an American Film Script writer and Producer who required quiet solitude to concentrate on his work, and travelled regularly to Los Angeles on business. With London Heathrow being under an hourâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s drive, the location and the facilities to house a female caretaker with a chauffeur husband, suited him down to the ground. What the new resident caretaker and the chauffeur was unaware of was the horde of crazy wild Rodents who were looking forward to receiving their next live treat. Since the twins left, the weekly food supply dried out and the hunger drove the larger Rats to start feeding on its own siblings. 185

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The rusting and rotting metal of the container floor and the sides gradually began to collapse, and the ingenuity of the Rat psyche drove the larger males to burrow their way out into the freedom of the natural habitat above. Being unused to sunlight, the nocturnal creatures hunted at night and returned to the safety of their container at dawn. At first the large males who led the hunting parties, concentrated on small game such as rabbits, hedgehogs, birds and the occasional chicken farms. Their finely tuned intelligence kept them at a distance from farms which had larger animals such as pigs, horses, cattle, where the inquisitive guard dogs watched over their quarry. Couple of times Rob Gold felt and smelt the pungent odour of the dirty Rats who had toured his ceiling and ventured forth to his kitchen. He informed the caretaker Dora to get her husband Simon to check out and take appropriate actions. Returning from one of his visits to Los Angeles, tired and sleepy after a long flight, Rob simply wished for a good nights rest, but was suddenly woken up in the early hours by two Rats squabbling over a carcass of a rabbit outside his window. First thing the following morning, he instructed Simon to deploy a few rat-traps around the house, which produced no visible success, due to the fact that the bait was not of interest to the carnivorous animals. The typical English spring time set the countryside in various hues of green, leaves sprouting out, fresh country air, the singing of birds, chirping of the young, the multicoloured butterflies, gave inspiration to Rob Gold to pen his next script for another adventure thriller. Only if he knew that a basis of an ideal script lay just within his own domain! 186

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CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE THE HUNT FOR THE MONSTER

After careful collection of what was left of the remains presumably of Edith Reed, the Police decided to launch a full investigation to the circumstances leading to the demise. The only clue to reach a conclusion on the identification of Edith Reed was her dentures. It was her habit that she removed her watch and rings in the evening, left them on her dresser. The shredded clothes, and the shoes were later identified by John, who was sedated by the ambulance medics. Both Peter and Tom who were allowed to view the remnants of their mother, who were shocked beyond belief. Patricia who at first was reluctant to go even near the remains of Edith, saw the skeleton being lifted on to a stretcher, first vomited and then fainted. Paramedics immediately took her into their care and placed her in a second ambulance. By this time a few neighbours from the nearby houses and a gaggle of Press photographers gathered awaiting permission from the Police to get a closer look. The continuous barking of the Bloodhound and the two Alsatians, was picked-up by some of the Rodents and their natural instinct hinted that they should spread themselves and scatter as far as they could to find a suitable secure location. A mixed group of seventeen Rodents found a container truck loaded with pallets of Ovaltine milk-chocolate powdered drink packed in cartons, destined to leave for Birmingham the next morning. Another group clambered into a second truck leaving for Aberdeen. Kings Langley is the Home of Ovaltine! Sanctuaries were not the biggest problem for the frightened Rodents since the natural instinct was survival from the invading army of Police, K9, and inquisitive observers. 187

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How a human being was stripped off its flesh down to the bone, with such a speed, within, possibly less than four hours, amazed the investigators, the medics and the local Press. The fact there were neither visible signs of a struggle, nor any footprints on the dry earth, failed to offer any clues to solve the tragic demise of now confirmed Edith Reed. Wolves are not a common sight in the rural Hertfordshire, neither are any other known wild carnivorous hunters. The positioning of the body or what was left of it, indicated that the removal of the flesh from the body did not cause the body to be pulled or dragged. Which meant that there was no struggle at all between the victim and the assailants. The national TV broadcasters such as BBC, ITV, SKY gave brief summary of the incident with a few puzzling questions, however, the local media warned the residents in and around Watford, Hemel Hempstead and as far as Harpenden, Luton, Bedford and surrounding villages, not to walk alone into wooded areas, after sunset. Since there were no visible signs of any broken bones in the skeleton or damage to the head, a series of questions arose as to why Edith went off the main tarmacadem road into a strange unknown wooded area, totally out of her genial character. Was she attacked by hand or pushed, or did an animal jump on her from front? The way her skeleton was positioned, she had fallen on her back. The blood stains were concentrated largely on one spot. Then the next question was, what happened to Cloud? Everyone concentrated on the human skeleton but totally forgot about the main â&#x20AC;&#x153;starâ&#x20AC;? of the reason for Edith to step out of the house on that ill-fated evening walk. Only the following morning John, still dumbfounded, went down to feed Cloud and realized that the pooch was not in the house. 188

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During the early afternoon, instigated by Tom, the investigating Police team agreed to send the K9 team of two men with their Alsatians to start a search for Cloud, since Cloud might contribute towards a vital missing link. One of the officers hinted that, Cloud may have led Edith out of the main road and Edith encountered with her adversary. The Police tent was still in place, surrounded with Police yellow tape, and there were several investigators still rambling around, searching for clues, when the K9 team walked into the tent. One officer said to the team, â&#x20AC;&#x153;We have instructions to start looking for the Golden Retriever, and we should get on pronto before we lose sunlightâ&#x20AC;?. The wooded areas with overgrown bushes, thickets made the walk complicated for humans but not for the Police Alsatians. The K9 Police trained Alsatians are a treat to watch. So obedient and focussed on their brief, no wayward stepping out of the track even when a rabbit simply stops, stares to tease and challenges the dogs. Since Cloud was in his prime, healthy and fit, specially after his meals, he could have done a few miles in his stride, in any direction. He may have chased after a rabbit, a fox, a Guinea fowl, a pheasant or even a crow. As a light-footed canine, he did not leave any tell-tale-trail after him. The Alsatians were in good form but not their handlers. After two hours of the search, both officers who were now in different areas, radioed to each other, and informed their supervisors that they plan to return to base. Taking different routes, both had not given-up hope, when after one hour into their return journey, one Alsatian, started to sniff with vigour, headed into the shrubs, and began to bark indicating that it had located something of interest. The 189

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handler trotted towards the dog and to his unpleasant horror he saw the half-eaten head of a dog, presumably that of Cloud. Immediately he flashed his transmitter and called his partner, and informed his supervisor of his find. Within minutes, a Police Land Rover which was near the Police Tent charged through the uneven landscape, criss-crossing the trees. Within a space of fifteen minutes, the remainder of what was left of Cloud was found in several different spots, indicating that, some of the pieces of the dogs body was dragged away from the severed head. It was not at a pleasant sight for a doghandler, a lover of canines, to witness. Just around that time, it was announced over the Police Tetra (closed internal) secure radio network that an Ovaltine delivery logistics truck had met with an accident on the M1 Motorway near Althorp not too far from Birmingham, causing a major multiple pile-up, with several fatalities. The Police are accustomed to such News Flashes throughout the day, and it is not considered a major incident. Something caused the driver to veer into the Fast Lane, crushing several cars and climb over the central dual safety barrier, and turn belly-up, causing the entire load to scatter on to both carriageways, causing pile-up on both sides. The usual conclusions of an errant motorist or driver under the influence of alcohol, or fell asleep whilst on the wheel, flashed in all TV channels. No one in their right mind would have even guessed that, several large brown & black Rodents, the size of a full grown Siamese cat, crawled on the passenger seat where the driver had opened his box of salted roast beef sandwiches. In a panic with a scared yell and in shock, the driver screamed and automatically veered the vehicle to his right, applied the brakes, tried to avoid crashing into the cars in front. Losing 190

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control of his truck, the vehicle flew over the centre reservation, on to the other side of the Motorway, slithered on its side and flipped once over. In the commotion, with loud bangs, crashes, screams of agony from the drivers and passenger, no one noticed, a dozen or so Rodents trooping off on to the embankment. The truck driver, with multiple injuries, with a cracked skull, most of his body crushed, with a significant loss of blood did not live to tell the tale. Meanwhile in Hyde Lane, a police van arrived with two vetenerary surgeons, collected the remnants of Cloud into plastic crates, and drove off towards Watford. The vetenerarians concluded that this was certainly carried out by a Lynx type of cat. Furthermore, the scene of the attack gave signs that there was more than one perpetrator. A recent BBC report revealed that 2,123 sightings of big cats were reported and the evidence published includes a skull found by a farmer that has now been identified as that of a puma; three reported attacks on horses; over 35 incidents regarding sheep kills; several confirmed paw prints of which plaster casts were taken; and 17 reports of a big cat with cubs â&#x20AC;&#x201C; an increasing trend, which suggests that the animals may be breeding. During the study over half a dozen hair samples, now awaiting analysis, were also collected. In the meantime the Rodents on Mi Motorway, clambered over the grass verge on to some piles of concrete and rubble left from a nearby demolished building, and scrambled in between spaces, hid till the sun went down. Around eight at night, after an adventurous drive, a fatal accident, with a quick escape, the Rodents were now feeling pangs of hunger rumbling in their body. The leader of the pack came out with his long whiskers sensing the local Midlands industrial smoggy air, trying to figure out any interesting smell. 191

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The open countryside had many farms and country cottages spread around, and the Althorp Manor House, where the family of Lady Diana Spencer were in residence. The horde of Rodents followed their leader towards the first farm. It did not take too long for a pair of domestic cats to smell the Rodents in the neighbourhood and came out to investigate. The Rodents who have developed a sharp sense of smell, immediately recognised that their dinner is round the corner. With patience and the cunningness, the Rodents rustled a bit to attract attention and awaited in formation for the prey to enter their trap in the shrubbery. The two cats crept slowly, marking each step with precision of a hunter. As they entered the bushy undergrowth, two Rodents faced the cats. These were not the normal size of mice or field rats the cats had encountered before. However, plucking courage both cats moved slowly and crept on their belly towards the Rodents. Suddenly from the undergrowth a half a dozen Rodents pounced with precision timing, attacked the dumbfounded cats in unison. The struggle ended within two minutes when the hungry Rodents tore the cats to shreds. There was hardly any noise when the last bit of meat was extracted, the Rodents retreated to the barn nearby. Around seven the following morning, a middle aged farmerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wife was seen wandering around the rear garden, screamed with absolute shock and horror, upon noticing the half eaten head of one of her pet cats. Hearing the scream of the wife, the farmer rushed out of the house armed with his shotgun. After a half-an-hourâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s search, the farmer found other remnants of both cats, around the shrubs, collected them in a plastic shopping bag, to be taken to the local vetenerarians clinic for a detailed post-mortem of the beloved pets. The hunt for monsters began in earnest in several Counties. 192

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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX KILLER RATS KILL HUMANS IN AFRICA & USA

Giant rats as big as cats have killed and eaten two babies in separate attacks in South Africa's squalid townships this week. Lunathi Dwadwa, three, was killed as she slept in her parent's shack in the Khayelitsha slum outside Cape Town and another girl was killed in Soweto township near Johannesburg the same day. Little Lunathi was sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor of her family's breeze block and corrugated iron home on Sunday night when she died. Her puzzled parents didn't even hear her scream. When her mother discovered her lifeless body, she saw that her daughter's eyes had been gouged out. Residents of South Africa's impoverished townships say the giant rats grow up to three-foot long, including their tails, and have front teeth over an inch long. The suspects in the baby attacks are believed to be African Giant Pouched Rats, a species only distantly related to UK rats, but native to sub-Saharan Africa - and the biggest in the world. They are nocturnal, omnivorous and can produce up to 50 young a year. Some tribal people breed them for food. The deaths appear to be part of a spate of deadly rat attacks in the country. Last month, 77-year-old grandmother Nomathemba Joyi died after giant rats chewed off the right side of her face. The killer rodents are believed to be African Giant Pouched Rats - a species distantly related to UK rats but native to subSaharan Africa. 193

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African Giant Pouched Rats are the biggest in the world. They are nocturnal, omnivorous - eating both plants and animals - and can produce up to 50 young a year. A hungry rat chomped on a straphanger's foot as she waited for a train in a downtown subway station, transit sources said. The woman was sitting on a bench on a J train platform inside the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station about 9:30 a.m. Monday when the rodent skittered up to her and bit down on her flesh, the sources said. Bleeding from the wound, the woman ran to a nearby service booth and asked for help - completely freaking out. "She was pretty frantic and upset," a transit worker said. "You could actually see the bite." The woman, who is in her 20s, was taken to New York Downtown Hospital, where she was treated and released, authorities said. The subway rat attack was unusual, the sources said, particularly because the J train platform at the station has a low rodent population. The platforms in the station for the 4, 5, 6 trains, however, are a complete "rat fest," one source said. "I've heard of rats running over people's feet," the transit worker said, referring to the 4, 5, 6 platforms. "But I've never heard of anyone actually bit." Transport Workers Union Local 100 officials and workers said more rats are surfacing because garbage collection is not as frequent as it should be and trash storage rooms aren't adequately sealed. 194

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CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN RODENT SEQUESTRATION OF BRITISH COUNTIES

Hunger and the quest for security drove the wandering Rodent migrants to inner City uncleared garbage piles, backstreet Indian, Chinese restaurants and pizzerias whilst several thousand decided to remain in the lush green countryside. Female Rodents breeding at the rate of fifty or so young rats in a year, calculated exponentially, the population expansion of the original Rodent guests housed in the buried containers at the Monks Farm in Kings Langley have now reached over a hundred thousand. Simple calculations will demonstrate that 50-60% of that total in females will create over a million within a space of twelve months. During the escape and migration of the Rodents on their own aided and abetted by trucks and containers, facilitated the Rodents spreading throughout British Isles. The proof of the pudding was in their eating habits. Taste and a lust for blood, both human and animals, drove the hordes of Rodents to attack in many Counties, both humans and animals. In Lincolnshire, The Echo published that a young woman returning from a “graveyard shift” in a local factory was chased by a group of Rodents, larger than cats. Screaming in horror, the woman climbed a tree, hung on to the first available branches, when the entire horde climbed after her and started chewing her calf muscles. Still alive, screaming in pain and fear, caught the attention of a farmer herding his sheep, who came to the rescue. With no weapon other than his walking stick, the farmer yelled and started waving his stick at the rats to no avail. Afraid for his own life, the farmer puffed his way home and in his trembling voice, called the Police, “Please get over to Chalk Hills, bring your weapons, a group of vicious Rats are savaging a woman”. 195

It took over thirty minutes for the Police to arrive in a Land Rover, with four constables armed with rifles, first to pickup the farmer, then drive towards the spot. Darkness and dusk with the full moon in the backdrop, gave a nauseating picture, of a woman lying on the branches, with over a dozen Rats chewing chunks of flesh off her body. The Police sergeant John Edwards commanded his officers to open fire whilst he radioed for back-up. By the time several Rodents were shot and killed, the rest withered away into the moonlit shrubs. The back-up consisted of an ambulance, two more Land Rovers complete with a K9 unit. The howling and fierce barking of the Alsatians drove all the remaining Rodents from the vicinity, which allowed the paramedics to get closer to the limp body. The local journalists who picked-up the Police radio transmissions were quick on their gas-pedals to get to the scene as the back-up arrived, and started their own shoot. Before the night was out, the news of the Rodent attack on a young woman in Lincolnshire was broadcast over all the Main News as well as News Flashes, interrupting ongoing programmes.

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CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT SAVAGE ATTACKS HORRIFY BRITAIN

News of Rodent attacks, mainly after sunset began to appear throughout England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. The vermin had spread across the Isles and maintained its programme of “Go Forth & Multiply”, which the Rodents did with alacrity. The bold ferocity of the attacks by groups of upto twenty Rats were a common feature in all the reports. When ever the authorities in Pest Control or several instances Police firearms were used to destroy a few Rodents, the uncontrollable breeding programme adequately compensated more than the loss of a few, by several hundred new offspring. In the Inner Cities, there were reports that Rodents have now infringed the housing estates, blocks of flats, raided the apartments through open windows and cat-hatches. The aged and the children at sleep became the obvious targets of Rodents, largely attracted by the smell of sour milk or other natural odours created by the handicapped. Several bedridden elderly, living on their own, were savagely attacked, and either succumbed to heart-failure or loss of blood through Rodent bites, until they were discovered by the Social Welfare Care personnel the following morning. Part eaten carcasses of household pets such as cats, small dogs were also found in almost every Country throughout British Isles. Pest Control was at a loss on how to tackle the Nationwide problem, since rat-traps, poisons were of little use, as the Rodents either avoided the traps or were too large to entrap. A tiny slice of cheese was not on the Menu of the Rodents, a point which the trappers were ignorant about. The bells at the highest tower began to chime, when Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth 11 was shocked to learn that 197

one of her ageing Corgies had been a victim of roaming Rodents at the Sandringham Castle, which Her Majesty frequents with her close family. Several photos were released by the Royal Press Office at Buckingham Palace, where a sombre-faced Monarch issued a statement of her loss of a loved pet whom HM had been fond of especially due to the Corgi’s partial loss of eyesight due to its age. The loss of HM’s Corgi took precedence to all other losses of human life, attacks on aged, the children, pets, including a rare 6-foot pet Albino python valued at British Pounds 150-; per inch. The owner of the python was rushed to Northampton General Hospital, after he had attempted to commit suicide on seeing the mutilated remnants of his treasured pet. A spokesman for Buckingham Palace added that there were several incidents of unspecified attacks on wild fowl, ducks and other small animals at the Windsor Castle, but did not elaborate further. Immediately upon hearing this information, the British Airports Authority (BAA) responded with their own security concerns of the Rodent population entering their domain. The Chief of Security at BAA said, “ If these Rodents were to encroach onto any of the thousands of aircraft, which may carry several hundred passengers, appear in any of the cabins or into the cockpit, we might experience serious complications up there 30,000 feet”. “Can you imagine, screaming passengers, running amok in the cabins causing mayhem”, he added. “This is not an easy task to search each and every aircraft looking for a herd of Rats.” A reader of the Daily Mail responded to one of the articles and suggested that the Prime Minister finds a Rat-catcher like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. 198

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE BRITISH GOVERNMENT DEPLOYS EMERGENCY MEASURES

“Pied Piper?” said one reader. “Prince Charles might be the ideal candidate for the job. The bloke talks to trees and plants. I am sure he can get himself into a Kilt, grab a bagpipe, pump his lungs out, get the bagpipe totally out of tune, drive the bloody Rats crazy enough to jump into the nearest water and commit suicide!” However, the Government had to take this issue seriously. Whilst brainstorming during a Cabinet Meeting at No. 10 Downing Street, reaching no practical solution, the Prime Minister announced on TV, that the country is facing a new dilemma which needed a solution with speed. When inviting the audience to react, one boy of nine years suggested that the authorities looked into where the problem originated from. Immediately the authorities directed special investigators to the scene of the first incident, the tragic circumstances leading to the death of Mrs Edith Reed. Det. Ch. Insp. Mark Simpson was ordered to look into the history of the ownership of Monks Farm. Parallel to that Sgt David Hancock led a team to investigate the surrounding vicinity, when they found several deep burrows in the neighbourhood. Using special diggers the investigators discovered that, the burrows lead to the Monks Farm, almost to the foundation of the newly built staff cottage. By special Court Order, the cottage was demolished, and conducted further excavation into the land till they faced two steel containers which were 199

beginning to corrode and collapse on sides. When the investigating team found a hatch which they prised open at the top, they found to their amazement several disintegrated human skeletons, various bones of animals and other rotting carcasses. Parallel to the investigation at Monks Farm, the Police sought the assistance of Interpol to locate the twins, Michael and Daniel Fellows. Timothy Barron who headed the enquiry into the murder of Rachel Freedman, who met the twins Michael and Daniel Freedman who changed their surname to Fellows, several times to check on their safety. He genuinely felt kindly towards the boys and enjoyed visiting their secluded wellprotected Monks Farm cottage in Hyde Lane. Although in his Police mentality he felt that both Michael and Daniel knew more than they were willing to share when the disappearances of the now released perpetrators of the crime were mentioned, he considered that discretion was preferred. Retired Inspector Barron decided to contact voluntarily Det: Ch: Insp: Mark Simpson to offer some background information to the Monks Farm background. Over the next days, Barron spent substantial amount of time with Simpson and his team, which he found quite interesting as well as rewarding for a retired Policeman. Barron was impressed with the ingenuity of Michael & Daniel Fellows, and the planning and design which went into the entire operation to avenge the killers of his mother. Barron felt that, although the twins had committed premeditated murder of four men, in his opinion, the actions justified the crime. Now the problem facing the Police is not that of trying to chase who was responsible for breeding Killer Rats but to put 200

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a stop to the Rats killing British citizens and prevent the Rats from their continuous breeding programme. The Interpol in their enquiries, followed the trail of Michael & Daniel to Miami, and from there to Rio de Janeiro where the two young men joined an adventure into the Brazilian Rain Forest for over three months. The guides of the tour programme remember vividly the two handsome Englishmen with their Oriental looking girl friends, speaking in fluent English and Israeli languages. Both Michael & Daniel were non-smokers, since they could not bear the smell of marijuana or hashish smoked by other members of the group. They drank Red Wines, either they finished the bottle or never drank from an opened half-emplty bottle. Occasionally, they might open a small bottle of Chivas Regal in the evening and consume the 33 cl plastic bottle between themselves. Always present when the meat was being prepared for grilling or stewing and at least one of the twins would help the cook right through the entire cooking process to serving of the food. After their tour, they thanked the guides, gave each of them a significant gratuity, and bade â&#x20AC;&#x153;Good-byeâ&#x20AC;?. As far as they could remember, the two boys planned to settle down in Miami. Michael and Daniel did arrive at Miami International Airport with their respective partners, and checked themselves into the Presidential Suite at the Hilton for a week. After weeks of a jungle adventure, infested with all the possible insects, mosquitos, snakes, alligators and other wild life, they wanted to get back into civilised life of a decent meal, served elegantly in a plush restaurant atmosphere. Out came the taste for a Chivas Regal Scotch and Red Wines. 201

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The British Government in their despair to contain the Rat infestation considered every possible actions to trap the Rats. It was evident that the problem has reached far beyond a local isolated incident, but has become a national problem. The fact is that the Rodent experts now believe that the Rat population may have reached close to one million or more based on mathematical calculated assumptions, and spread-out from Scotland to Wales down to Lands End in the South of England. And they also considered the possibility that several hundreds may have crossed the Channel and entered mainland Europe. The British Foreign & Commonwealth Office (FCO) had in the meantime co-operated with the Israeli Embassy to locate both Michael & Daniel who are now believed to be settled down in Israel, with a view to interview them. The Israeli Embassy was however reticent due to the fact, the Director of Public Prosecutions might consider opening a murder enquiry and hold the twins under suspicion, pending further charges. Since the twins have both British and Israeli citizenship, the Government of Israel may protect their citizens from any extradition process exercised by the British Courts, and the British authorities did not wish to enter into a public dialogue which might embarrass both Governments. In co-operation with Interpol and with Mossad, the British Police decided to send out a team to interview Michael and Daniel in Tel Aviv, at an independent location. The Police emphasised that their only interest was to find out how the Rodents were captured, bred and leave out any other sensitive incriminating details. The Israeli Ministry of Interior expressed that they would provide legal support for Michael and Daniel, as requested by family friends, Sir Clive Sinclair and Alan Sugar of Amstrad. 202

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Both Michael and Daniel had followed the events at Monks Farm, since their sale to Rob Gold, the American Film Script writer. The architects and their construction crew who were brought from Israel to maintain absolute confidentiality of the infrastructure of the Servants Cottage, guaranteed that there would be minimal evidence of the Rat population beneath the cottage, and that the Rats might evolve a self-destruction or self-liquidating process and eventually perish in their own habitat. But the Murphy’s Law triumphed! The Rats escaped. Michael explained about the Theory of Dan Grossman on how he eliminated Rats in a closed environment of warehouses. But now the Rat infestation has gone way beyond the four walls, roof and a concrete floor. The total land area of the United Kingdom of Great Britain consists of close to 100,000 square miles or 250,000 square kilometres. Using the Theory of Ron Grossman is impossible. There must be other solutions which may be considered to capture or annihilate a vast colony of Rats on a national scale. By using industrial scale mobile Rat compounds, and using live-bait might upset animal rights groups. Furthermore, Rats intelligence will pick-out the traps sooner than humans think. “One choice was to make it more of a National Challenge to capture Rats for Reward competition. A Patriotic Save Britain from Rats!”, added Daniel. “This way, get the population involved to protect themselves” said Michael, also it is important to involve the national media on advertising, as well as Press & Public Relations campaign. “Get Saatchi & Saatchi Group, one of the best advertising agencies in the world. Specially Maurice and Charles, two 203

Syrian Jews from the Middle East, with a creative Oriental mentality sharpened by the British educating system, sharp as nails, friends of Maggie Thatcher, and expensive to bootâ&#x20AC;? said Michael with a smile. The Foreign & Commonwealth Office mandarins listened very carefully on the options presented by the twins Michael and Daniel, which sounded practical from all aspects. Getting the public involved through a carefully devised Press Relations Campaign, by driving fear into them, which will prevent any backlash created by Animal Welfare Rights Groups. Rewarding the participating public on a success related incentive, plus Rat-traps free-of-charge, may save on substantial costs of deploying thousands of Pest Control Officers Nationwide. Another idea was to engage the Refuse & Garbage collectors to get involved on a similar incentive, another thought. They could be deployed to collect the dead Rats as well as a collection point for citizens movement. And by collecting the deceased Rats into one area for incineration would prevent spreading of diseases and contamination of rotting carcasses by birds and other animals. The Israeli Ministry of Interior laid out a couple of excursions to Dead Sea and a few other places of historical interest, for the British delegation, typical of Israeli conducive Public Relations activity. One of he Israeli scientists approached the FCO officials and suggested that they offer to develop a Birth Control medication which could be applied or injected to bait, to entice the Rats. This way, even if a Rat escapes the trap, having consumed the bait, the Rat male or female would not be able 204

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to reproduce. This was a highly important “prevention at source of production”. The only negative aspect is that, if the bait is consumed by a domestic cat, dog or wild foxes, they would suffer loss of reproduction. Therefore the baits should only be positioned inside specially adapted traps, with Rats in focus. On their return the Rat-Trap-Team, or RTT as they were called, reported to the various Ministries of their findings, and presented a detailed Plan of Action, with a budget. An action committee was formed under the supervision of the Ministry of Home Affairs. Maurice Saatchi was called to give a presentation based on a brief given earlier for a Advertising Campaign called the Rat Catcher, supported bt Interpublic, a well-known PR company in London. As usual, Maurice Saatchi created an innovative TV programme with a dual purpose of getting the viewers involved in an interactive Market Research feedback as well as a Promotion of Rat Catcher theme. “Save England! Catch a Rat to get Rich” the remarkable advertising campaign brought an astonishingly positive consumer response. At a guess, Maurice forecast that there are over two million Rats now on the run, and he suggested a mouth-watering sum of “Fiver-a-Rat” which put £10 million pounds on line, plus £10 million for advertising, Public & Press Relations campaign. Regional monthly competitions with a Top Rat Catcher Award hogged the TV and Media attention. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was pleased as punch at the success of the campaign, and the involvement of the public made the entire exercise into a positive campaign winner for the Conservative Party. However, the Rat population was on an exponential breeding cycle, growing faster than the Rat Catcher programme. 205

CHAPTER FORTY RATS TAKE ROOT & BREEDING SPREADS

Now a thoroughly British Rodent, born and bred over ten years, a natural British subject albeit of non-human origin, has begun to change its culture and habits according to environmental restrains. Gone are the days of a weekly feed of live animals and humans being offered by the hosts of its ancestors, now getting accustomed to live off the land. The new generations, living in disused warehouses, garbage collections and dumps, have also come down in size. The Rat Catcher programme introduced by the British Government did cause disturbance amongst the older generations but the new offspring became accustomed to the threats towards their existence. Survival became increasingly difficult and competitive as in any free society, however breeding continued naturally. Producing around 3-5 litters of 6-8 per litter, and reach sexual maturity within 2-3 months ready for reproduction, during a 18 month life span, a female Rat may breed upto 12 times per year, and produce over one hundred offspring.

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Fortunately, with environmental constrains, the size of the newer offspring produced smaller Rats in size, easily hunted by cats. The Rat Catcher programme lasted for over 12 months but fizzled-out due to reduction on advertising budgets, and succeeded in trapping over 200,000 Rats Nationwide. The early aggression in the campaign terrorised the urban Rat population which drove them away from the cities and builtup areas into the countryside. Since the average life span of a Rat is around 18 months, natural wastage, and lack of ready-available red meat and dwindling resources reduced the larger Rat population, during the latter part of the campaign. Whilst the heat on Rats reducing with time due to reduction in attacks on humans and animals, the focus on Rats disappeared with time. The sale of traps and Rat-poisons still maintained its momentum due to the hardware stores which expected the crisis to last longer than 12-18 months, driving Chinese producers to ship traps in large volumes. Once again the Chinese were to capitalise of the Rat saga in United Kingdom by designing and producing a wide array of Rat soft toys, masks, costumes, available in outlets and on the media. Andrew Lloyd-Webber the well known producer of CATS, was approached by several theatre moguls invited Andrew to produce a new version of RATS. Although the entire episode of R.A.T.S is ideal material for a Drama-Horror film, excerpts of it may be utilized for a staged theatre production by an innovative scriptwriter and producer such as Lord Lloyd-Webber. --Not the End-207

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Each female Rodent with a lifespan of 18-20 months breeds from 3 months of age, 6-8 per litter, between 50-100 rats.

Rodents of above size were captured and killed in USA, Africa in built-up inner cities. Bigger surprises are yet to come.

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