A Choice of Evils Read online

  I sat like a statue, unable to avoid their show of legs, bums and tits as they hovered over me. My face got pulled this way and that way after my hair had been tinted, pulled, combed, cut and shaped. My face got slapped with creams and powders, while through closed eyes, I could hear scissors snip here and there followed by sprays and the buzz of a hair dryer.

  Like an artiste’s model, I sat there conscious of the sisters stopping to admire their work. A touch here and an alteration there until finally, after two hours, away came the sheet. Now a mirror was thrust in front of my face. I stared back at Dr Bruce! It was an amazing impersonation, I thought, while the sisters beamed in mutual admiration. ‘Crikey’ my voice said, ‘How can I tell the difference?’

  ‘We’re not finished yet Jack’ said Lisa. ‘Part of a personality change is a psychological change. Now take off your clothes and lay upon the table.’

  ‘What everything?’ I enquired.

  ‘Yes, everything but your pants’ smiled Laura.

  Off came my clothes and onto the table I laid. My eyes looked down at my finger nails as I felt four smooth hands stretch and pull at my muscles. Aromas of oils and colognes were splashed upon me as a string of sexual remarks filtered through their giggles. I tried hard not to respond as I felt a stirring in my lions. On turning over, I imagined I had blinkers on and lay with my eyes closed while I sensed their eyes take measure of the one part I could not relax. But in spite of all this, the sisters were right. I felt rejuvenated and alive with a new energy. It would have been nice if I felt this way with Susan last night, I thought. But today, I knew it would end one way or another.

  ‘That’s it then Dr Bruce,’ said Laura. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Great. Just great,’ I answered.

  ‘I’ll get some coffees while you dress,’ she added.

  As the make ups were packed away, I assembled into my clothes and compared myself to the photos of Bruce as I looked in the mirror. My impersonation was faultless. ‘The acting profession don’t know what they are missing,’ I told them. Satisfied with my compliment, they gave me the rundown on the theatre’s and how close they had come to being famous. But I had heard it all before. Yet I did offer a surprised smile for them.

  When Laura returned with the coffee, I counted out £200 for each of them. It was a good day’s work, they agreed. Hopefully it would be the same for me, I thought.

  Now I was ready for Barclays bank. The time was 1.30pm. My plan was to arrive there about 2.30 and by cab it would take all of that to get through into the city. But now I was on a high. It was shit or burst! I looked good, felt good and smelt good. The scam had to come off. It will work, I promised myself. The sisters knew I was up to something, but knew better than to ask. A cab was called for, and then 5 minutes later I was on my way to the city depository of Barclays bank.

  Hardly a word was spoken on the journey. The driver did not blink when I paid him off outside the bank. From my pocket, I sprayed the plastic skin all over my hands. Then with a measure of confidence I skipped the two steps up into the bank and made my way to the chief of cashier’s desk. An ashen faced hawk nosed voice answered my question.

  ‘I would like to visit my deposits,’ I told him. The face looked at me with a matter of fact expression. I was obviously familiar to him. ‘Have you got your deposit pass, sir?’ His hand flipped over ready to inspect the vault pass in my pocket. I made sure that I had the lab pass flush beside it, hoping his trained eye would not miss the photo upon it. ‘Ah yes, Dr Bruce,’ he pronounced. ‘Please come this way.’

  I followed him to a door at the side of the cashier’s tills. A bell was pressed and the door opened by a uniformed guard. Ashen face handed over my vault pass to him. ‘Admit Dr Bruce to the depository, please.’ He told the bored guard. I followed him to a barred door which he knocked upon. A small window slid back to expose an enquiring face. Again the order was passed on. ‘Admit Dr Bruce, one person only.’ He said. The paper was handed through the door. Then my client pass number DBX147 was examined and punched into a computer which came up with a photograph of Dr Bruce. Looking from me back to the computer he acknowledged identity and saved me the panic of wondering what to do next.

  A button was pressed to release an electronic lock on the door. As I entered, the first guard left and the pass was handed back to me once I was inside. Then a short passage to another door was unlocked by the guard, where he left me alone.

  With the door closed behind me, I observed the banks of steel like lockers; each numbered and divided with a partition for privacy. There were three other people in there attending to their dark secrets in silence. I realized it was no longer any big deal. I had done it! I was in! So like an authorised depositor I took out the box keys, having located the deposits A48 and A53.

  I was curious what else other than the formula may be secreted in the boxes. But my first priority was the red bound formula. Box A48 was opened first and that was immediate bingo! With all the care of handling a sacred icon, I lifted it from the box and stared at the bold black letters on the red cover. XP42. The folder was about half an inch thick in A4 size. I quickly looked through the pages but the scientific jargon got the better of me. At the same time I knew I was holding the power of life and death in my hands. But I had the prize.

  Curiosity got the better of me to look in the other box A53. It was about three steps away. After locking the first box, I did a systematic search through a bundle of papers in the second box. There was nothing that my mind could make sense of in them. I locked it shut, then made tidy my effort to leave the depository.

  Nobody gave a second look as I walked to the guard’s door and pressed a buzzer. It was soon opened. Once again I was asked for my client’s pass. He checked my number against the photo on his computer then waited for a few brief seconds until clearance was announced. This time the first guard came to the barred door to escort me back out into the bank. I emerged as a buzzer sounded to let everybody know the door was opening. Old ashen face gave me an antique smile as I passed by. ‘Goodbye Dr Bruce,’ he called. I nodded politely. It was over and done inside half an hour. The next thing I wanted to do now was get home.

  A sense of relief came over me as the cab I had hailed drew further and further away from the bank. Well I hadn’t been arrested by MI5/6, so perhaps I had been too paranoid, I thought. Now everything depended on how I boxed it with Ahmed. I looked forward to the £50,000 he owed me. It had been a good day, thanks to the talents of Lisa, Laura and all the other people who had unwittingly helped in my plans. Yet still at the back of my mind, I knew there was no way I could allow this Iranian plot to be carried out on the British people. There had to be something I could do to thwart it.

  I was miles away in thought when the cab pulled up at Brunswick Place. ‘We are here,’ shouted the driver as my thoughts came back to earth. I squared him up, holding firm onto the red bound formula as I walked on towards home.

  It was fast coming on 6pm as I made my way up to the rear garden. A few manoeuvres with the kitchen window soon had me inside with the folder.

  There was stillness in the house as I made my way into the sitting room. Then all hell let loose!

  From behind the door jumped two large men, and then a woman entered from the hallway. I was gobsmacked! Surprised! Afraid! Frightened!

  ‘Good evening, Jack! Or should we say Dr Bruce?’

  My legs were turning to jelly. The formula dropped to the floor. Then it hit me! The perfume, that distinct smell!

  ‘Don’t panic. Just relax.’ Ordered one of the men.

  I sat down looking from left to right at them all. ‘What is going on?’ I pleaded with unconvincing innocence.

  ‘Do you want to tell us?’ ‘Or shall we tell you?’ asked the woman.

  ‘What is the point?’ I muttered, unsure what to say.

  ‘Ok. Let’s start from the beginning,’ she continued. ‘I am Inspector Elaine Morton. We know you have already guessed who we are. And I am sure you app
reciate there is very little we don’t know about you.’

  I looked from one to the other. My nightmare was coming true. ‘Ok, ok.’ I answered. ‘I’ve known for a while that I was being watched but I couldn’t read your minds. You are from British Intelligence, right?’

  ‘Correct.’ said the Inspector.

  I couldn’t help notice how dammed attractive she was with her blond hair. She was remarkably similar to Marylyn Monroe, the film star. But her eyes were fixed firm and poised with the next question.

  ‘We can arrest you for numerous offences, including burglary, theft, espionage, impersonation amongst other things we know about. But we would rather your cooperation in the interests of state security. You don’t have much choice.’

  I sat transfixed, hanging on to every word she spoke. My thoughts galloped away into prison. How many years would I get? 10, 20, 30, life? I dared to move then heard myself ask, ‘Do I have an alternative?’

  ‘Good,’ began the commander. ‘I think you may well prefer our proposition. It comes with immunity from prosecution.’ There was a pause in the air.

  ‘I am all ears.’ I said with a perk of hope rising.

  ‘We don’t know how much precisely you know about the formula, but the genuine one is not for sale at any price. You will be disappointed to learn that yours is a fake one.’ He paused for effect.

  My body jerked forward from the armchair. My ears strained. Was I hearing right? The formula was a fake? ‘Not the real thing?’ I spluttered.

  ‘Precisely. Surely you did not think that state secrets are so easily come by!’

  ‘So you knew all along what I was doing from day one?’

  ‘Of course dear boy,’ continued the Commander. ‘You must know that all foreign embassy staff are vetted. We have means of listening in on conversations and we know all about Hashemi Ahmed as an official interpreter and his unofficial activities with you.’

  ‘Then why let me go on with it all? Why wasn’t I arrested?’

  The three of them smiled. ‘It will all become clear to you.’ replied the Commander.

  It was beginning to dawn upon me. They had used me as a pawn in their game plan. I felt a complete prat and so stupid that all my plans had been monitored and condoned by the highest authority in the land, the Intelligence Services. Now the questions were starting to fire in my head.

  ‘So you engineered everything? The keys in the lab were a put up, together with the fake formula at Barclays bank. You knew that I would work out a way to collect the formula through my own contacts and means so you gave me some obvious clues to follow at the lab.’

  ‘That is right. Even down to the old man and the guards at the bank. You couldn’t go wrong.’

  ‘What? You are not kidding?’

  ‘No kidding. It was important that you presided over the whole plan yourself and you did well. But now you know it was all arranged for you.’

  ‘So where does that leave me?’ I wearily asked.

  ‘Between a rock and a hard place,’ the commander continued.’You entered into this agreement with your eyes open. In doing so, you committed numerous offences which carry very long jail terms. I am sure you don’t want that.’

  My head shook vigorously.

  ‘Then will you deliver the fake formula to Ahmed under our directions?’

  ‘But what shall I do if they find out? Surely they can’t believe that I would know it was a fake.’

  ‘It’s worse than that, I am afraid. Most likely they will think you have double crossed them. What do you think?’

  ‘That I still had the real one?’

  ‘Or that being a crook, you sold it on to someone else,’ he smiled.

  ‘Christ!’ I shouted. ‘You are giving me the shits. What can I do now?’

  ‘Cooperate with us. Give him the formula. Take your money and obey our instructions.’ he continued.

  I looked at all three of them. It seemed all so unreal. I could see that I was dealing with professionals. There was no way out but to go along with them and hope for the best. At least I didn’t have to worry about the implications of the formula. It would seem that the Iranians were never going to be in a position to poison the British water supply systems.

  ‘Just like that?’ I persisted. ‘Hand the formula over and take the money? You obviously know about that. What is in it for you?’

  Finally the Sergeant spoke. ‘Integrity. The satisfaction of knowing our secrets are safe, and of course, the prestige of the Intelligence Services. The Iranians will work it all out in due course. They will hold you accountable for taking the money and double crossing them.’

  I felt the last remark like a slap in the face. It was a show stopper. My life was crumbling before me. Now I was a victim of blackmail and there was one hell of nothing I could do about it. My balls were being squeezed from both sides.

  ‘Ok. I know what’s in my best interests. What do you want me to do?’ I asked.

  ‘Good. We have a meeting of minds then. We shall expect your total cooperation.’ he continued.

  ‘Right,’ Inspector Marsh added. ‘We shall phone you at midday tomorrow. By the way, put the photos of the real Dr Bruce down the side of your settee and don’t forget to phone Louise, now that Susan has gone back to work. And remember to take your make up off.’ she smiled.

  ‘You know everything about me, don’t you?’ I queried.

  ‘There is a message in your answerphone.’ She continued. ‘And we’ve read your book, The Mind of a Thief. The rest is history! Goodnight.’

  The Sergeant picked up the red fake folder from the carpet. Then I watched all three of them leave by the front door. The bolt was off. They had obviously got in from the back, via the kitchen window, the same way as I had. Nothing surprised me about that. After all, we were in the same game in a roundabout way. It felt like I was in a film without an end.

  It was a horrible feeling knowing they had me squeezed by the balls. They were going to use me in their wider plans and now I didn’t know what I was up against. After all, I was just a thief. Who would miss me? Christ! It was all happening again. The paranoia and thinking over the conversation of the last two hours didn’t help. I was now a puppet of the Intelligence Services. I remembered the Inspector’s last remarks; there was a message on the answerphone for me. I pressed the button. It was Louise. Could I phone her? Damn it! I was not in the mood for talking. What about Aisha? She had not phoned me neither.

  It was damn clever how MI5 had handled this affair. I now knew what it felt like to be humble. They had been ten jumps ahead of me all the time. So the voice on Ahmed’s tape had been right, that the British Intelligence Services had been detected listening in on their embassy. It was clear this had led them on to me and they had picked up on everything from there. By letting me commit all the offences of fraud, burglary, impersonation and collusion with Ahmed I had paved the way for them to use me. I expect it was convenient for Dr Bruce to be at the Porton Down Research Centre too. That’s if he ever went there. And to learn that the keys in the Tropical Research Lab were placed there, so that they would lead me into the bank was a smart ploy which paid off for them. Then to learn that even the guards there were placed to ensure that nothing went wrong for me, all but blew my mind. I had no one to scream at but myself, which reminded me to get rid of their bugs.

  I went upstairs to the bed post. It was gone! No bugs? Back downstairs I checked the base of the telephone. That one was gone too. Was there any point of replacing them elsewhere? No. Now we all knew what each other was up to, there could be no mileage in it. Besides, after their appearance here, they knew that I would be looking everywhere for a bug. They were now in the position to call all the shots. Damn it again. I would phone Louise. My biological rhythms needed regulating.

  Louise answered the phone with a sigh. ‘I thought you were ill or something.’ She said.

  ‘No. I had just been too wound up with writing my novel.’ I assured her.

  ‘Oh, I thought
maybe you’d had a change of heart or found someone more exciting.’ she giggled.

  I sold her the best lie I could think of. ‘I can only handle one woman at a time.’ I said.

  ‘Then what are you waiting for? Let’s have a takeaway at your place. I will get you a surprise one on the way over, huh?’ This was too good to be true, but answered my prayers right now.

  ‘That would be nice.’ I answered. ‘I will take a shower and liven myself up then.’ Louise agreed to be here at nine o’clock. I knew I had seen the last of Susan for a while. She would be jetting around the world in her job as an air stewardess. But that is the kind of lifestyle she liked.

  As for me, I only liked doing what I did when I got away with it. But I should have stayed in my retired mode from being a thief. I was reformed up until I met Ahmed. But then I remembered there was only a slight difference between a straight man and a crook. It was the price! Perhaps I shouldn’t be too hard on myself after all, I thought.

  The scotch bottle called my attention. I poured a large one. It was just the tonic. Next, I made for the shower where I topped and tailed myself away from the image of Dr Bruce. A squirt of this and that here and there extinguished any of the colognes used by the sisters. I knew that Louise just like Sharon and Susan would interrogate any smells they were not familiar with. And I had had enough of being asked questions for today. That done, I slid into a bathrobe then waited for the doorbell to ring. It did. Spot on at 9 o’clock so I put on a jazz tape.

  She looked a picture with her beautiful smile, long legs and curves.

  ‘Has someone stolen your car?’ She asked after planting me with a kiss.

  ‘Oh, it is having a service.’ I said as I let her in.

  Like a breath of fresh air she waltzed in with a typical takeaway carrier bag.