Stopping World War Three Read online

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  STOPPING WORLD WAR THREE

  by

  Stan Mason

  Publisher Information

  Published in 2013 by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  The right of Stan Mason to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998

  Copyright © 2013 Stan Mason

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  If it wasn’t for Primar I would never have been involved at all. The odd fact was that I hardly knew the man. He was a casual acquaintance who had cross my path on a foreign holiday... nothing more. Nonetheless, Primar was the kind of man to cash in on a friendship... however slender the meeting might have been. I had regarded him as a pleasant individual, generous to a fault, who always insisted on buying the drinks as well as paying for excellent meals. He asked for nothing in return but I had to admit that I didn’t care too much for the fellow. He was relatively short, with black hair and large dark brown eyes which always seemed to look right through you like laser beams penetrating your mind to determine all your thoughts. All that I could remember was that he told me absolutely nothing about himself except that he was in business on his own account. Most of all, however, I dislike him mostly because of his arrogance but on vacation one tends to ignore most virtues and vices especially when contact entails little more than a few games of tennis, some drinks at the bar, and a couple of meals in a high-class hotel. When he intruded on my life again, I was at a low point in relation to my future. He could hardly have improved on the timing of his reappearance.

  I left the office at noon on that particular day to visit the old library at Whitechapel in the East End of London. The adjoining hall had become famous as an exhibition centre for lost souls in the world of modern art. I sat on a small bench seat to gaze at the portrait of a young woman standing in the doorway of her bedroom at night. She was so beautiful that as my eyes ran over her body with a strong sense of erotic interest I forgot all about the sandwiches I had brought with me . Suddenly, I heard someone whisper my name softly from the other side of the bench seat. I was about to turn but my action was halted by the imperative tone of his voice.

  ‘Don’t look round! Whatever you do, don’t look round! I need to talk to you urgently!’

  ‘Who are you?’ I whispered in return, my heart beating like a drum in my ears in the silence.

  ‘Primar! You remember me. The Costa del Sol last year!’

  ‘Primar!’ I repeated sharply, biting my tongue at the outburst. It was extremely difficult to comply with his command. I wanted to swivel round to take a good look at him, however caution held sway. I resisted the impulse and stared straight at the portrait.

  ‘I’ll be at your office in half-an-hour,’ he went on. ‘Be there! We have to talk about the 21st Century Crusaders. By the way, how’s your bridge coming along? Haven’t seen your name in the winning lists lately.’

  There was a slight movement of air and I knew instinctively he had gone. Primar! From the Costa del Sol! He had tracked me down and had followed me into the art gallery. What was so clandestine about our meeting that he couldn’t be seen to meet me face to face? After some thirty seconds had elapsed I turned my head casually but, as I had suspected, no one was there. In that brief span of time he had moved from the seat to vanish from the hall. My mind raced swiftly trying to fathom the reason why he wanted to talk to me. The only thing I could imagine was that he was determined to trade upon our acquaintance and borrow some money in private. He had certainly spent it fast enough on holiday. It was then that I became angry with myself for telling him where I worked. Indeed, on reflection, I had told him far more about myself in that Spanish hotel than I cared to admit. Why had I been so gullible to reveal so much information to a perfect stranger? It had always been my opinion that holiday friendships abroad died a quick death the moment the aircraft took off on the runway of a foreign shore. Clearly it was entirely different with Primar! He knew exactly how I felt with my appointment at Dandy Advanced Electronics and the office claustrophobia I detested so much. Mu God, I had told him it was my earnest desire in the short term to write a letter of resignation to my employer before walking off into the sunset. He knew my main aim was to rid myself of the shackles and fetters which anchored me to the austere business world. Naturally, I had been spouting with holiday euphoria wanting to live like a lotus eater in the hot sunshine for the rest of my lifetime as most tourists desire. Now that I had time to think about it I must have been mad to say all that to a stranger.

  After a while, I left the exhibition hall and made my way back through the unusually heavily-crowded streets. Once installed in my office on the twenty-third floor, I went to the window and stared down below. For most people it was a red-letter day and they were determined to make the most of it. The faint rhythmic sound of a large brass band wafted on the breeze of the City of

  London as thousands of office workers, tourists and sightseers thronged the pavements. There was an air of excitement as they waited expectantly for the British monarchy to pass along the route. It was the majestic occasion of a royal wedding. One of the young princes, with a chance of succeeding to the throne, had found the princess of his dreams. Ultimately, a proclamation had been issued declaring that this day was to be set aside for the marriage. The crowd, however, had little concern about his potential to the throne. They were interested only in the colourful and happy event of the day., As such, they lingered in the warm sunshine hoping for a brief glimpse of the royal couple and their parents before the ceremony actually took place. Shortly, the cortege would speed by with the bride, the bridegroom and the eminent guests... all of them dressed in their elegant finery, transported by magnificent coaches, trimmed with red and gold paint, pulled by handsome well-groomed horses. And then, in the span of a few minutes, the procession would have passed and the grand spectacle would be over. Yet the crowd waited patiently just the same hardly able to contain their excitement. All the way through the main city streets large strips of multi-coloured bunting stretched and flapped in the warm breeze against the backcloth of a clear blue sky, while the sunlight glistened on the white flag-poles enhancing the glorious and auspicious occasion.

  Eventually, one of the brass bands emerged from Poultry & Princes Street with the reflection of the sun flashing from the silver-coloured instruments, turning away from the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street to march steadily toward St. Paul’s Cathedral. The smart blue uniforms of the military musicians advanced in measured step with uncanny precision and in perfect harmony as the people lining the pavements watched amid an incessant babble of noise which was drowned by the tuneful efforts of the band. There had been many sad days in the City during the winter and early spring... at last fortune intended to reward it with a joyous event of national interest that readily touched the hearts of a sentimental public.

  I surveyed the scene with indifference being neither a royalist nor a republican. Such indulgences failed to interest me. I did not wish to become involved with politic
s, religion or royalty. Furthermore, I considered that weddings were a bore. I stared at the multitude of people standing idly below with a complete lack of empathy. It seemed to me that there was no justification for a person to wait for an hour or so by the kerbside for the sake of a quick glimpse of royalty in the flesh. Any logically-minded person would watch the incident on television in the evening to obtain a full view of the proceedings in the comfort of their own home.

  Fifteen minutes passed by before Penny Smith, my attractive secretary, summoned me on the intercom to tell me that Primar had arrived and was waiting to see me. She ushered him into my office and he sat facing me.

  ‘All rather clandestine.’ I ventured, giving him a wry smile without offering any greeting at all.

  He crossed one leg over the other, clasping his hands together about them leading me to believe that he was under some tension. The body language really identified it.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he began. A small edge of nervousness sounded in his voice which was so uncharacteristic of him. ‘I’m trading on an old friendship but I think you might be interested in a new dimension. I’ve no intention of outlining the whole scenario in one single broadside. It’s far too big for that. So please bear with me and hear me out.’

  I stared at him in a bemused way wondering why he was stumbling so badly over the issue, shrugging my shoulders disconsolately without replying.

  ‘When we first met,’ he continued, ‘I took you to be a sharp energetic individual with a sense of adventure. Someone totally bored with the mundane events of modern life. A person with a great deal of potential lost in a giant organisation here. Apart from anything else, you realise that they don’t appreciate you or your talent.

  ‘Quite an assessment of character in just a few games of tennis, some drinks in the bar and dinner on a couple of occasions.’

  ‘I admit we were only in contact with each other for a very short time,’ he responded, ‘but my opinion has been confirmed over the past few months.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I demanded sharply, seeking an urgent explanation.

  ‘You’ve been under surveillance during that period,’ he confessed unashamed.

  Suddenly it became possible to cut the atmosphere in the office with a knife. My eyes narrowed and I stared at him fiercely ‘Would you run that past me again!’

  ‘You’ve been under surveillance for the last two months,’ he repeated, ignoring my reaction.

  ‘What right have you to do that?’ I countered furiously, feeling a surge of anger coursing through my body., ‘And for what reason?’

  ‘Calm yourself, my friend,’ he continued amiably, hoping to take the sting out of the revelation. We have something to offer each other. It will benefit you as much as it will us.’

  ‘Us!’ I countered. ‘Who the hell is us? You mentioned the 21st Century Crusaders in the art gallery. Is that who you are? A group of people hell-bent in bringing some cause to the attention of the government or the public, dragging all and sundry in its wake in order to secure some kind of political advantage? Or are you some terrorist group looking for new recruits?’

  He took a matchstick from his jacket pocket and began to chew on the end of it. ‘I’ll come to all that shortly But first I want to gain your confidence... and your support.’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘You must be out of your mind, Primar!’ I advanced angrily. ‘You march in here with a cock-and-bull story to tell me I’ve been under surveillance and then you seek my confidence and support. What planet are you on? I think I want you out of this office immediately!’ To tell you the truth, I don’t even know you!’

  He stared at me with a bland expression on his face but he did not move. It seemed that he was waiting for the moment to pass in the hope that my attitude would soften... but it failed to do so. Ultimately, it was his turn to shrug and he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to produce a buff envelope which he tossed on to the desk in front of me. I opened it slowly removing a number of photographs which showed myself an Penny Smith in flagrante delicto. It was almost as though we had posed to be filmed in a series of sexual acts from different angles. I dwelt on the possibility that my secretary had been bribed to make me a vulnerable target for blackmail. However, the actions in the photographs were too realistic, too perfect, to be coincidental. In any case, there was no reason for her to do so. What could she have hoped to accomplish?

  ‘Okay, Primar, you’ve got me over a barrel. You could tell my wife but it won’t get you anywhere.,’ I challenged icily, maintaining my temper on an even keel as I pretended to be indifferent to any demands. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘This is only a small part of it, Jason,’ he went on. ‘We are about to report a shortfall in the accounts due to you and Miss Smith stealing some of the money.’

  My hair almost stood on end at the new revelation. ‘What are you talking about?’ I spluttered.

  ‘These photographs only show that you were having an affair. We needed something more positive to ensure that you join us.’

  ‘And so you’ve intimated that Miss Smith and I are in cahoots and that we stole money from the company’s accounts. Is that what you’re saying? Well they’ll never believe you. They check the accounts first to find out they’re in perfect order.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ stated Primar. ‘The money has already been removed.’

  ‘How could you do that?’

  ‘As I said, this thing is too big to explain in one shot. You’ll have to trust me.’

  ‘After what you say you’ve done to incriminate me?’

  ‘Even more so. I want you to join us, Jason, to go on the adventure of your life,’ he invited, looking smug now that he felt he had the upper hand. ‘Join us in a quest which has so much adventure and excitement you couldn’t possibly dream about it.’

  ‘Except that you won’t tell me anything about it!’ I snapped. ‘And if you don’t, I’m never going to know!’ I was beginning to tire at the ham-fisted way he had made his approach.

  However, Primar was nothing if not clever. He knew it was unnecessary for him to rush his fences and he remained silent for a moment to allow the cogs in the wheels of my mind to fall into place. The sound of another brass band could be heard floating on the breeze and a roar went up from the people lining the pavements. I moved out of my chair towards the window to watch one of the open ornate horse-drawn carriages being pulled steadily at a slow trot along the main highway. It’s occupants looked radiant in their finery smiling and waving amiably to the cheering crowds as they passed along, almost at the end of their journey to the Cathedral.

  In view of the evidence which had just been presented to me by my visitor, and the revelation that funds from the company’s treasury was missing with the finger pointing at me, my mind was in a turmoil and I was unable to appreciate the scene in its full splendour. But it was a tremendous sight with the sun streaming across the roof-tops of the high-rise office blocks to pave the way for the procession with a warm golden path adding to the colour and character of the occasion.

  ‘I want you to fly with me to Israel to meet my Commander.’ His voice broke the silence and took my attention away from the window.

  ‘Your Commander?’

  ‘He wants to tell you all about it himself.’

  I stared at the photographs which lay idly on the desk with chagrin, realising I had little alternative but to do what he asked. It was a case of direct blackmail and I was the target. What could I do with the threat of arrest as soon as the company directors discovered a shortfall in the funds?

  ‘When do you want me to go?

  ‘We have two hours. A little more if necessary. A private plane is waiting at Stansted Airport right now.’

  ‘Two hours!’ I gasped. ‘You must be joking! I’m already committed for this evening. Wha
t the hell is this all about?’

  ‘We’ll talk about it on the way,’ he advised. ‘Far better to discuss it in private... away from the prying eyes of other people. Walls have ears you know.’

  I returned to my chair and sat down. ‘If you think a handful of embarrassing photographs and a veiled threat that I stole company money is enough for me to throw up my job and fly to some distant place at a moment’s notice you’re wrong. You’d better think again.’

  ‘There’s more!’

  I paused for a moment to think what else he might have established to press me into service. What else could he have construed to damage my reputation, my career, or my life? ‘More... what more is there to know?’

  At this moment, your secretary is holding a letter for your immediate attention. It will probably alter the trend of your life. Destiny, one might say. Why don’t you call her in so that she can give it to you?’

  I sat back in my chair, scanning his face, wondering where he had secured the information, then I pressed the intercom and called her. ‘Penny... I understand you have a letter for me.

  ‘Yes, Mr. Scott,’ she replied. ‘It arrived only a short while ago marked ‘Urgent’ but I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting.’

  ‘Please bring it in right away!’

  There was a long silence as we waited for her to enter. ‘By the way,’ I ventured, stopping her in her tracks as she came in without having the decency to question her in private before making the accusation. ‘I think you have some explaining to do!’ I pushed the photographs across the desk for her to examine, never taking my eyes off her face.

  As she glanced at the first print, her face turned a pale ashy colour and she almost fainted, her body sagging slightly against the desk on which she leaned for support. I tore open the envelope with a leaden feeling in my bones and removed a single sheet of paper. Primar was not a man who toyed with false threats or irresponsible bluffs. Everything was real and down-to-earth with him taking the advantage. The contents of the letter were bound to have a profound effect on my life and I knew it even before I read it. It was a letter written to me by my wife. I recognised the handwriting immediately.