A Choice of Evils Read online

  Aisha arrived at 7.30 with shopping bag in hand. There was no denying she was a very pretty woman and we quickly shared a lingering kiss before she revealed the tantalising curves of her body after her coat came off. Her eyes flashed me a knowing smile. She had been souvenir hunting, she told me, and wanted to add me to her permanent collection. I was more than flattered that a beautiful young woman like her was really attracted to a rough old chap like me. It didn’t make sense. But who knows what turns anyone on? Yes, it had to be my Tom Jones lookalike image I convinced myself. My brown curly hair and flashing white teeth must count for something! Aisha wasn’t wasting any time to tell me she would wait for me here until I returned from my meeting. What could I say? My brain was now in my prick. She would be something nice to return home to I told her. Promise was in the air.

  For the next two hours we talked and teased until the carriage clock chimes quelled the heat that was bubbling between us. I had half an hour to get to the Farrier’s pub. I left Aisha with a kiss and watching a fruity video about what other couples got up to. Dave’s grand was in my pocket.

  I found him snuggled into a corner of the bar as I walked in. A grin spread over his face when he saw me.

  ‘Here you are Jack,’ he beamed. ‘This one’s on me.’ He slid a large scotch towards me as I sat next to him. His cigarette smoke curdled from the burning weed between his fingers as he blew out a stream of it towards a display of roasted peanuts. He seemed somehow different today. Then I noticed he had had a haircut and was wearing a new black leather coat.

  ‘I see you’ve treated yourself then?’ I enquired.’Yeah. Your bit of business was a life saver. I was beginning to forget what money could do for me,’ he grinned.

  ‘Then let’s hope our little transaction brings us some mutual benefits’ I told him.

  ‘Yep.’ he smiled. ‘My pockets have some good news for you. Of course it wasn’t easy, but then it’s not what you know but who you know, which makes the world go around eh?’ I nodded, as we touched our drink glasses together.

  The ‘barmaid’ was a barman that I knew. At least, it was not difficult to determine that. A limp wristed pale faced young man pouted his red lips in our direction as we picked up the menus. Dave’s rugged hard baked face must have seemed threatening, for no sooner had I indicated to order a meal when a look of uncertainty showed in the young man’s eyes.

  ‘It’s ok Nigel’ I assured him. He doesn’t bite. He always looks like that and would rather step over a fly than squash it.’

  A relieved look spread over the young man’s face. ‘Oh my god!’ He gasped. ‘I thought I was up against a homophobic. But it’s not his fault if he looks like that,’ he replied cheekily. Dave grinned. I knew he had heard it all before. I placed the orders for steaks, veg and fries. Nigel rejoiced in his little remark about the rump steaks with his sense of humour. An exaggerated walk saw him disappear to place our orders as we moved to a table already prepared for diners.

  Music from a juke box drowned over the pub conversations. It was a well-used watering hole (this pub) and popular with the locals and passing trade. It was an easy place to talk without standing out in a crowd. Dave lit another cigarette and was ready to give me the details. I tuned my ears in as he passed over a piece of paper.

  ‘This is the authorised blank pass slip for access to the vaults. You can see the details on it refer to the depository. All you have to do is fill in the name, address and client number. I take it that your Dr Bruce is the name in question?’ He queried.

  I smiled. ‘Maybe,’ I replied. It was obvious he already knew that anyway. ‘OK’ he continued, ‘Then as that was the name my contact gave me, his deposit box number is DBX147 and his password is SNAKETWIST. You will need the pass slip to show the depository guard. On giving him the pass, he will check your box number against the password on his computer then let you in. That’s it. OK?’

  The weasel looked into my eyes for approval. ‘Great.’ I told him. ‘You should have been a wizard.’ A smug look of appreciation showed in his face. ‘Anytime Jack, you know me,’ he replied. ‘If I can, I will, providing the price is right.’ At this point I handed him the money envelope. ‘Here, you’d better go and have a leak before the meal arrives.’ He didn’t need to be asked twice. Five minutes later he was back telling me about a lady friend he wanted to look up. I smiled, thinking what Aisha was doing in my house right now waiting for me?

  ‘Wow! Be sure she just doesn’t want you for your money,’ I jeered at him. The smile disappeared from his face. ‘Am I that bloody ugly?’ he asked.

  The meals arrived just in time to avoid my answer. It was difficult not to notice his pock marked cheery nose and the marked features of his well-worn face. ‘It’s personality that counts. How can any woman resist you?’ I mocked. Nigel stood placing the meals having overheard my last remark. ‘He’s all muscles’ and manners,’ he quipped. ‘What a dish for a queen. Some girls have all the luck.’

  ‘It’s not your lucky day ducky’ Dave smiled back. ‘Shame,’ chortled Nigel as he walked away smiling. Dave gave a grunt and turned his attention to his meal.

  It was tasty good food which we ate largely uninterrupted, save for some proverbial burps from Dave, a sure sign that his taste buds were still in good working order. ‘The Arab’s taught me to do that,’ he volunteered. I asked him to spare me the details. I had more important things on my mind, including Aisha. Now I couldn’t wait to get back home. I didn’t fancy getting my ears punished with the weasel’s old jokes, so I told him I was expecting an important call at home and I had best be going.

  ‘OK Jack, he answered. ‘You look as if you’ve swallowed a deposit box anyway.’ He couldn’t resist a touch of sarcasm. ‘Well, you be lucky with your lady friend,’ I told him, ‘Don’t forget to put your money next to your lunch box. You did tell me only a woman could get it from there!’ I reminded him. ‘You’ve got my number,’ he almost grunted in dismissal. I gave him a pat on the back as I left.

  There was not much traffic on the way home and without any sight of patrolling police cars. I let myself in. It was quiet. Then I noticed the smell of a perfume. It was that distinct smell that I had noticed in my car before. I called out to Aisha. She was gone. Gone? I then saw her note; ‘Sorry. I had to return to the hotel urgently. I will be in touch.’ There was something wrong? The perfume? Aisha gone? I went from room to room like a sniffer dog examining the air with my nose. The faint whiff of that perfume was everywhere. It was in my bedroom too. My eyes scanned the room for a clue. No signs of disturbance were visible. I just knew that someone apart from Aisha had been in my house. It was not a perfume belonging to Aisha. Another female had been in my house!

  Whomever it was, had stayed in my bedroom some considerable time. I had a strong notion that a meticulous search had been made. If the Intelligence Services were involved then there was likely to be a bug. Where would I start looking for that? It couldn’t be Ahmed. He had no reason. Surely he was only interested in the formula. It had to be them.

  My thoughts went to the recordings, photos and the lab pass that was hidden down the side of my settee. In haste, I leapt downstairs to check them out. The cushions appeared untouched. Yet again I was getting a strong smell of perfume in this location. My mind raced into overdrive anticipating an unwelcome discovery. But again, all was intact as I had left it.

  What was I to do now? If the Intelligence Services had me under surveillance, how long had it been going on? A deluge of questions swamped my mind. I suddenly felt vulnerable. Now I was really in the shit, I thought. I would phone the hotel and speak to Aisha.

  My memory flashed back to the tape I had recorded at Ahmed’s house. Was he under surveillance too? How much did they know? What about my trips to the Lab and the homes of Ahmed and Bruce? Had I been seen with Peter the pen, Doc and Dave the weasel? What about my plans for Friday? And were they listening in on my trysts with Aisha, Sharon, Louise and Susan? Hell! I didn’t know what to think. Was I just im
agining the worst? Or was my experience being the better judge of these things?

  The only antidote to my paranoia was to act it out. This way it would prove if my suspicious were justified. Wouldn’t I get arrested at the bank on Friday? Bang to rights? Maybe it would be my life saver. It had to be better than accounting to Ahmed. Damn him! Sod the money! Peace of mind was better than that. Yes I would front it all out. Carry on with my plans and see what happens. Either way this whole saga would come to an end. I hoped it wasn’t going to be a premature one. I simply had to get this formula on Friday. Time was running out. Now I would phone the London Park Hotel and speak to Aisha.

  I dialled the hotel and asked for her room number. I waited to learn she had checked out. Sorry. That was all they could tell me. No they didn’t have a forwarding address. I was up against a blank wall. It was all very mysterious.

  That night I slept on the settee with all the lights on in the house. It was around 2am when I got off to sleep. I felt I should take the advice I had given to Dave. If a woman’s hands had already searched my house then I knew if she had returned, there was one place she could not search without my knowing. Tomorrow I was going to buy a bug detector and collect the latest tapes from Ahmed’s and Bruce’s homes. I would have a meeting with Susan tomorrow evening too.

  I must have dreamt about that as I gave myself a reassuring search when I woke up. It was 8am. The last chimes of the carriage clock had just signalled the hour as I looked at my watch. I heard the Postman putting some mail in the box too while mouse upstairs was laughing his head off.

  I was soon up the stairs putting a stop to that before I made for the shower. Then in good time, I had dressed and had breakfast by nine o’clock. It looked like the weather was going to be a repeat of yesterday as a weak sun was trying hard to brighten up a dull day.

  From the post box I took two letters and a card. My publishers were asking for an update as they were keen to get the presses rolling. Once again my bank manager was inviting me to wrap myself up with loans and mortgages. Well, he could go and stuff himself, I thought, what’s mine is mine and nothing more. The card was from Louise. Could I phone her? My mind wasn’t ready to answer that.

  The toast tasted like a cardboard and the coffee like cat’s piss. My appetite was flat. There were things I had to do that were nagging me. I abandoned the idea of breakfast and decided to get across to Dorrain Electronics. I had to give my house the once over. Or twice over come to that.

  The journey wasn’t too bad on the way over, although it was a bit of a struggle when I got to Edgware Road from Bermondsey. ButI was glad to arrive and find a parking place.

  A flamboyant salesman nearly jumped out of his skin to serve me. He all but sang the praises of the latest bug detecting gadget. It was guaranteed with the usual guarantees and replacement if faulty. ‘Spare me the details, please.’ I told him. It was sold. A thin smile twitched his ears like a bell ringing a bill of sale.

  Back in the car I ferried my way through the traffic stopping only for a takeaway at McDonalds as the morning hunger got the better of me. I finished the last of that as I drove into the Old Kent Road through to Bermondsey. Like a kid with a new toy, I parked and dashed indoors, catching the startled look of Mrs Breen, a nosey neighbour. Safe inside, I switched it on being intent on giving my house a methodical search. I started upstairs.

  As I combed over the bedroom furniture, inch by inch, I watched the illuminated display expand and contract with each sweeping movement from wardrobes to dressing table, from tallboy to telephone. Even the pictures on the wall and curtains did not escape my attention. Finally, the pine poster bed remained the last possibility after the carpets had proved negative.

  There was no response as I moved slowly from the bottom of the bed legs to the head board. But as I came to the right hand poster support, it happened! The alarm went off with a succession of bleeps turning the digital display into a flashing pulse of red dots as I moved the detector nearer the corner of the post. The dots converged into one big red pulse. My suspicions had been confirmed.

  On examination of the bed post, I noticed some fine residue of wood dust on the carpet. Upon hands and knees, I studied it like a work of art. Then screwing off the wooden top of the post I saw it! A one inch square bug a little smaller than an Oxo cube. It was neatly secreted into a small space which had been drilled out to accommodate it. This was concrete proof enough that I was under surveillance.

  I sat on the bed looking at the bug in my hand. It was an uncanny feeling knowing someone was listening to me, probably right now. Could they hear me breathing? Would they have heard the bed knob being screwed off? Had they listened in when Louise was here? What about Aisha and Sharon? Had our intimate moments been shared with whoever had placed the bug here? I would have to assume this was the case. I felt naked at the thought of it. There was a big difference between knowing and not knowing you were being listened too. At least when I had used bugs, none of my victims knew, so feelings weren’t offended.

  I decided to replace the bug and screw the bed knob back on. If they knew I had found it, then anything could happen. There was nothing I could do to take away what they already knew, but the question was, why was the unforeseen intelligence mob going to such a lot of trouble to spy upon me? If they had already been following my movements, then I had already committed a dozen offences that I could be nicked for. This was an enigma I had no answer for. Maybe someone was waiting to arrest me after I came out the bank with the formula? Tomorrow I would find out. Christ! I didn’t know what to think. There were so many possibilities. Whichever way I turned I was cornered.

  Back downstairs, I repeated the exercise over and on every piece of furniture, paying even closer attention to wall pictures and the floor skirting. Finally I swept the detector over the telephone. Now there was a reading here too dammit! The red lights flashed and the bleeps shrieked at full pitch. Yes, there was a bug here too. With a screwdriver I examined the base. Inside I saw it which was exactly the same as the one in my bedroom. Now I knew my phone was bugged and my calls were listened too. My solution to this was to use a mobile phone from outside my house. Finally, I swept the kitchen and bathroom and all the other places that would serve to hide a listening device. I must have spent at least four hours going over everything and it had paid off. There was nothing I could do about it now but carry on to see my mission through.

  There were two things to do before my meeting with Susan this evening. One was to get a mobile phone and next was to retrieve the tapes and recorders from Ahmed and Bruce’s houses. It made sense to use some diversion tactics too as it was likely I was now being followed. Most likely there was a bug in my car too, so a drive into a car wash would provide an opportunity to search through it away from prying eyes.

  It was now mid-afternoon and time to go out to buy a new mobile phone and complete the pickup of the recorders so I slipped the necessary tools into my pocket. My first stop was the car wash. Once I was inside the water brush partitions, I gave the car a good search through. It was as well that I did. Bingo! There was a bug behind the interior car light. It was a different type from the other ones I had found. Once again, I left it where it was. I felt the paranoia surface within me again. I now wondered if someone in the garage forecourt or in a vehicle nearby was watching me. I didn’t want to believe it was true, but at the same time I knew it wasn’t a dream.

  The car came out cleaner and I felt better for the knowing of it. As I filled up with petrol and left, my eyes scanned the interior mirror noting the vehicles behind me. Then shortly after, I saw it. The black rover car I had seen next to mine a few days ago. There were now two persons inside of it keeping a distance of some yards behind. Then I saw something else which caught my eye it was a motorcyclist. He was not in a hurry. Maybe he was another one, I thought.

  Dammit! It was like living under a magnifying glass. It was a wonder they didn’t have an eye inside the toilet watching me shit! I would have to switch cars at
some point. Maybe jump a taxi over to Golders Green and Notting Hill? The pressure was on me but I had to continue. This was not my way of having fun!

  From the garage I drove to Surrey Quays shopping centre to buy me a new mobile phone which I did. Now I had to phone Dave, Doc’, Peter and the sisters to say only to use my new mobile and not my house phone. Now that was sorted. Next I did a mega walk in and out of every shop and store in the shopping centre then phoned a cab from Tesco’s customer services. With a pair of socks, baseball cap and newspaper in a carrier bag, I left the Quays for my journey to Golders Green first. The cab driver was delighted saying he had been on the go all day with fares and some good tips. He knew how to drop a hint in hope that I would be another favourite customer.

  It was now almost 3.30pm. In the back of the cab, I sat sideways with newspaper open glancing out the rear window. Although it was an overcast afternoon and not easy to see every vehicle, my eyes were on watch for a black rover car and possibility a motorcyclist. There was no sign of either.

  It had taken a good hour to reach Golders Green where the driver dropped me off at the top of a tree lined road. I paid his fare and some waiting money of thirty minutes for my return run to Notting Hill. He was pleased with that as I made my way to Dr Bruce’s rear garden.

  There were no lights on and the extension ladder was in its usual place by the shed. I performed my knock and ding a ling to the front and rear door bells. In double quick time I had the ladder up to the window with socks on my hands then prised the recorder from under the conservatory eave. I left the bug inside the house in case of further need. As far as I could imagine, the formula would now be in my hand tomorrow. It would be a Good Friday. On returning the ladder to its place, I returned to the waiting cab andjourneyed to Ahmed’s house at Notting Hill.