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Authors: Joe Thompson-Swift

BOOK: A Choice of Evils
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Now it was approaching the end of April and I was putting the finishing touches to my story at 9.pm when the phone rang. It was Inspector Marsh. ‘A taxi is calling for you at 9.30am tomorrow morning. It’s trial time. Have you got your head ready for it?’ Yes, I told her, I was all prepared. So this was it. The day of reckoning for Pandres and Aisha and I would have to relive it all again at their trial. For sure they would refuse to make any guilty pleas. But I could only tell it as it happened. No doubt the news reporters would have a field day reporting the trial.

19

That night, my anxieties were triggered by thoughts of the coming day’s trial. Sleep did not come easy as I tossed and turned the night away. Morning came soon enough and I was feeling so angry with mouse’s unwelcome laugh that I thumped him into silence at two minutes past seven. It would have been easy to fall back to sleep, but no it was a case of ‘needs must when the devil drives’ and for sure today, he was driving me with a vengeance. When my feet touched the floor, I automatically went through my morning rituals. One hour later I had breakfast finished and was walking out to the paper shop. TRIAL OF TERRORISTS STARTS TODAY AT OLD BAILY, read the headlines. There was plenty to read when I arrived back home and it would be on radio and TV so it was sure to get maximum coverage. I just hoped my picture would not be in the papers or seen in any news media.

My post box chirped me up a bit as there were letters from my publishers and Sharon. Both were expecting a call from me. I made a note to do that after the start of the trial today. Right now my head was full of the Old Baily.

It remained that way until my door bell sounded at 9.30am. My thoughts had been percolating with anxieties of going into the witness box even though I knew the whole trial was going to be a process of judicial formality. Pandres and Aisha had no chance of walking out of court as free people. It would be a theatrical performance with prosecutor and defence counsel vying to present the crowns point of view and a defence left wanting to justify its clients activities yet both knowing there would only be one verdict, guilty. It would be seen that MI5 had used me as agent provocateur to flush out the terrorists and the CPS (Crown Prosecution Service) had sanctioned my immunity from prosecution albeit I had committed numerous offences to obtain the XP42 formula. The court would be told, that never in my wildest dreams, could I ever have imagined a simple criminal act of ‘stealing to order’ would result in the deaths and capture of terrorists. With all the twists, horror and tricks of MI5 it was true to say it was all outside my compass of experience.

On opening the door to two chins, his smile was almost an embarrassment. ‘Come to take you to the Old Baily Sir,’ he said. It was no great moment for either of us and I had the feeling he had said those words to other people many times before. Then he opened the back door of the cab for me and we were on our way. Not a word was spoken on our journey there which reminded me of the old war slogan ‘Careless talk costs lives.’ Maybe he had more to hide than I did, I thought.

When we arrived, he gave me his well-practised wink as I left the cab. My first surprise was seeing Marion at the entrance steps of the Old Baily. Next to her were Commander Bennit, Inspector Marsh and Sergeant Morton with Mr No Name who looked like an army brigadier. All were impeccably dressed in dark suits and ties. They held armfuls of documents between them. I was handshaked four times with an air of cordial greeting. ‘Just tell it as it was’ said Commander Bennit, ‘and we’ll tell it as it is.’

The trial was scheduled to start in court number one. There was a witness minder waiting for me inside the building and all my needs would be taken care of, I was told. ‘You will be pleasantly surprised when you see who it is,’ Inspector Marsh said smugly. Then together we all entered the building.

A woman in a sober dressed black suit came striding towards me. Her skirt hung below her knees and a head of long blond hair was tied back in a bun style. My eyes almost leapt out of my head as the face smiled back at me! She nodded, exposing a set of immaculate white teeth. I couldn’t be dreaming? It was Louise!

She saw the look of consternation, surprise, and disbelief in my face then volunteered to answer me. ‘Yes, it’s me Jack. It’s all in the rules and part of the job,’ she smiled. ‘I’m sure you will work it all out in due course.’

Jesus H Christ! My bowls nearly evacuated with the shock. For sure I was staring at Louise. Louise? The woman who had shared my soul in bed! She was a scorpion too? A flood of memories came rushing back to me. I didn’t want to believe it now but I had too. It was a fact. Louise was one of them. Of course it now made sense, MI5 had employed the same tactics as the Iranians did with Aisha and Louise would have been in the ideal situation to feedback information to them. She would have told them the best place to plant the bugs in my home. ‘Not you as well?’ I blurted.

She stood nodding, half smiling at me. I didn’t know where to put my face. It was all now as clear as daylight to me. ‘Don’t feel bad,’ she continued. ‘That’s the way life is. Besides, it was nice to mix business with pleasure. I don’t have any regrets, do you?’

I looked into her eyes. There was no denying she was pretty. ‘Who would believe it?’ I replied. ‘So it was all a set up with me. The offer I couldn’t resist and as Oscar Wilde said; ‘I can resist everything except temptation.’ I have a lot to learn, I told her.

Louise smiled, ‘Haven’t we all? We never stop learning from each other. Now you can rest easy and with all that money you have earned you won’t need to get involved in crime again. Next time you may not be so lucky. Stick to writing your books.’

There was a lot of truth in what she had said. ‘I can’t argue with that. Maybe I can use this experience for another book,’ I smirked back.

‘Why not,’ she agreed. ‘It’s time to go into the court now.’

20

Inside the court, I sat alongside the witnesses in the case. They were all there, Mr No Name, Commander Bennit, Inspector Marsh, Sergeant Morton, even two chins together with Marion and Louise.

It was a cold and foreboding atmosphere. The oak panelled walls gave an impression of Englishness, strength, discipline. Each panel a sturdy example of precision and authority that nothing less would do for the highest court in the land. Black gowned officials glided about almost silently as if noise was alien. A judge wearing a white woolly wig sifted through papers on his podium giving an occasional glance to his imitators making ready the proceedings before him. More significant was the presence of the tactical firearms unit positioned at strategic points in the court. Also in the press gallery was a large contingent of news reporters. It seemed clear that International press coverage would send a strong message to Pandres Iranian paymasters that British Intelligence was always ten jumps ahead of them. It would of course serve as a moral victory and public assurance exercise for the UK as a whole.

I listened as the court usher called for the defendants to be brought into court.

The escorting officers came up from the well of the court where the cells were. Pandres and Aisha were seated in the dock to look up at the judge and across to the sworn in jurors. Their eyes scanned the court to meet mine in turn then paused to flash me a look of contempt. There was hatred there. It was a strange feeling to know I was looking at people who hated someone they didn’t know. Yet here were people who were prepared to poison millions of citizens in the UK, and probably didn’t know why themselves. Somewhere at the back of my mind was another question. Were they victims of their own belief system? Perhaps brainwashed disciples of a paranoid Islamic faith?

‘The court will rise to try the indictment,’ said the usher. Then I listened as the prosecution paraded the evidence against Pandres and Aisha. Each witness entered the witness box to be cross examined by both counsels. As my turn came, I was led through my statements which completed the missing parts of the jigsaw of how it all came about in the case against them.

Yes, for sure I was in court again this time as a witness and not as a thief but albeit an unwitting witness for the crown. Even the old establishment judge was showing extreme benevolence with his patience as I gave my evidence. I felt a great relief when it was all over. Soon after, I left the court with the footsteps of Louise beside me.

‘Well, that’s our job done,’ she told me. ‘You can read all about it in the papers tomorrow. You can go home now.’

Officers No Name, Bennit, Marsh, Morton, Marion and Louise gave a sigh of relief. ‘Remember to engage your brain before your dick,’ smiled Commander Bennit. ‘And remember, you have signed the Official Secrets Act,’ added Inspector Marsh. Louise smiled. I smiled. We all smiled. ‘I’ve got the message,’ I answered. ‘I plan to write another book now I have finished the other one and I am sure I can turn facts into fiction,’ I quipped.

‘There’s a way around everything’ advised Louise as two chins beckoned me towards his taxi. ‘What are you going to call it?’ she asked.

For a brief moment, I paused by the cab door. I took a last look at the faces of Louise, Elaine Marsh and the others and remembered the dead terrorists.Both Aisha and Pandres were now going to prison for a very long time. My new book would reflect the morality of this story. ‘I’ve got it,’ I answered. ‘I’m going to call it; A CHOICE OF EVILS.’

End

All rights reserved

Copyright © Joseph Thomson-Swift, 2011

Joseph Thomson-Swift is hereby identified as author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

Cover design by Alexander Devonport.(Artiste)

www.alexanderdevonport.com

ISBN in epub: 978-1-78148-019-9

This book is published by

Grosvenor House Publishing Ltd

28-30 High Street, Guildford, Surrey, GU1 3EL.

www.grosvenorhousepublishing.co.uk

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author's or publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library

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