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First published: 9th March 2022
Status: COMPLETE & PUBLISHED.
Revisions: 6 [last revised November 2021]
Version: Final.
Published Episode No. 29
Previous episode: "Alexandra survives after the last sunset....and some!"
Next episode: “Alexandra encounters big Quinn McFarland.”
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team Assigned: Team 74
Mission: 3 - 172005 - 12 – 1936
A 'TEMPORAL DETECTIVES' series original story is the version that this 'Alexandra' episode is based upon and NOT a 'Jericho Tibbs' legacy episode.
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THIS EPISODE MAY CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS:SMOKING - ALCOHOL USE - VIOLENCE [INCLUDING SEXUAL VIOLENCE & BDSM] - STRONG LANGUAGE - GRAPHIC HARD SEX REFERENCES INCLUDING PROSTITUTION AND DIVERSE SEXUAL PRACTISES - DRUG REFERENCES - ANTI-RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS AND OPINIONS - HUMAN TRAFFICKING - COMMENTS AND BEHAVIOUR THAT MAY OFFEND SOME PEOPLE BUT WERE CONSIDERED 'NORMAL' IN THE TIME PERIOD. |
IF YOU ARE BELIEVE YOU MAY BE OFFENDED BY ANYTHING CONTAINED IN THIS WRITTEN WORK, THEN DON'T READ IT AND CLOSE THE PAGE! CAUTION: “THIS EPISODE COULD CONTAIN VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE [including sexual violence] HORROR AND GRAPHIC, STRONG SEXUAL REFERENCES. RECOMMENDED suitable for persons aged 18+ years only.”  |
This episode has a reading time of approximately 75 minutes.
This story can be found in "The adventures of Alexandra: Series 3."
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IMPORTANT
NOTE: Certain
names have been changed to protect the innocent and the narrative contains
incidents that have not been recorded by human historians.
1. HISTORY RE-WRITES ITSELF.
Captain Edward Golding lifted his hat and wiped his face and neck several times; he was uncomfortable sitting in the big black Wolseley 2.7-litre Landaulette car on a summer day like this. He watched the endless procession of soldiers passing his advantage point as they passed up the Mall without real interest. His driver Chris Newbury waved his hat across his face and cussed under his breath. His ‘Boss’ – the captain – was known not to really appreciate profanities. The young man really wanted to pull off his tie and jacket and buy a bloody ice-cream from one of the vendors at the top of the park [Hyde Park] but the captain wouldn’t approve of that either. He tried hard not to listen to the conversation between the captain and the strange passenger that sat in the rear smoking a large fat cigar and saying little. Chris had been in MI5 now for almost two years and knew that the big man sitting behind him was important. The simple fact that the captain called him ‘Sir’ constantly certainly was a pointer to his position. But who the hell was he?
“He passed all the information about the plot onto his MI5 handler who sits on the Irish desk Sir. Even showed him the old pistol that he had been given and stated that about a thousand pounds had been mentioned. We have taken no action because of her close connections with his Majesty. We can surmise that the money came from her current lover, who certainly would have cash like that lying about sir.” The captain wiped his face again and shifted in his seat; his arse was sweating now on the unyielding leather.
The big man grunted and blew smoke about; “So there is no real danger to his majesty?” The captain nodded and almost smiled; “Jerome Bannigan couldn’t hit a barn door with a cannon and certainly doesn’t have the guts to pull the trigger sir. He’ll take the money and do a little time as agreed and the evidence will pile up against her and her handlers. I believe we have - quite cleverly – bloody out manourvered them on this occasion and public sympathy will swing away from her and the King will see sense.”
The big man grunted again; “Good. That whore will ruin the young King and with him; the British Empire. With the situation in Germany and Italy the world will desperately need the British Empire until the stupid Americans realise what is going on and act.” He tapped his cigar on the open window ledge and quietly muttered; “I can’t believe that he could become so entangled with a woman who is no better than a street walker. She is cheating on him with three men at the moment – right under his nose – and her file is thick as the Bible with all those other conquests. They just have to give the word and she’ll have a terrible and fatal accident.”
Chris gripped the wheel and stared at the crowds lining the route and wondered, who the hell were ‘they?’ He sat up a little as the King – mounted – passed by to cheers and applause from the crowds. The new King may have a reputation for women – other men’s wives normally – just like his grandfather [Edward VII] but the public loved him. They didn’t have those feelings for his current mistress though. The foreign tabloid newspapers had exposed her past on many occasions and it made uncomfortable reading for large sections of the British public who had access to those newspapers. He sighed and sat back, glancing at his wrist watch; it was just after midday.
At first, they thought it was a car backfiring. But the captain – with his experiences in the Great War - knew they were pistol shots. He and Chris were out of the car in seconds; the big man remained calmly smoking his cigar. The place was in utter chaos with police and soldiers trying to keep order and stop the crowd from lynching the little man in the shabby brown suit there and then.
There was group of police and officers around the King as he lay sprawled on the warm tarmac, while a young officer held onto his kicking horse. The noise from the crowds was deafening and the captain had to shout his orders at the top of his voice. Chris stared down at the road and could see little splatters of blood. The King had been shot – twice apparently – and with some accuracy. He could tell by his Bosses demenour and almost panic-stricken actions that something had gone terribly wrong.
The King was placed into a big black police car which drove off at speed to St. George’s hospital [that stood opposite Wellington Arch] with armed police officers standing on the running boards. The bell siren fading into the distance. A uniform Inspector grabbed captain Golding – he had blood on his hands – and told him that the suspect had been taken to Hyde Park Police station and his orders were to clear the crowds quickly as possible.
It took some minutes to reach their car and Chris was told to drive to Hyde Park nick immediately. The big man in the back was dropped off outside the park and eased himself into a blue and white Morris driven by a very pretty young woman in a lovely little hat. He had sat nothing and didn’t even say farewell when he left their car. Just for a second or two, Chris thought the big man was smiling as he waddled over to his new ride. Chris pulled up outside the station which had armed constables swarming all over it. They walked slowly through the big doors and were shown into the Inspectors office by a large sweaty sergeant who shouted down the corridor to a constable Davis to fetch the Superintendent as MI5 were now on scene.
Captain Golding leaned against the wall – opposite the window – in the bare office and groaned he was white as snow and constantly wiping his face. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked himself several times and Chris just had to smile at the captain’s newfound profanity. Chris stood by the desk and fumbled in his pockets, producing some mint humbugs. His mouth was dry as the Sahara Desert and he could murder a cold beer; well, several of them if he was honest. The door was thrown open and the uniform Superintendent strode in; he was not a happy man. “The bastard admits everything, says it’s for the oppressed peoples of Northern Island would you believe!” he slumped behind the large desk and shook his head; “He’s called McMahon and has identity on him, comes from Liverpool apparently.”
The captain lowered himself into the only spare chair in the room and gripped his hat with both hands; “His real name is Jerome Bannigan and he’s known….” He hesitated and wiped his face again; “He’s known to us….MI5 I mean.” The superintendent sat back in his chair and just stared at the captain for a good twenty seconds then ran a hand over his face. He was a shrewd man. “I take it this wasn’t supposed to happen?” he asked fumbling in his jacket pocket for his ‘Player’s Senior Service’ cigarettes.
The captain simply nodded. The big policeman lit a cigarette and took a couple of puffs, flicking the ash onto the bare floor. “Someone is going to hang for this…” he never finished because the phone was ringing. He lifted the receiver and spoke into the mouthpiece. He grunted yes a couple of times and said thank you, replacing the mouthpiece back onto its hook. He stared at the captain and drew heavily on his cigarette before tossing it onto the floor and grinding it with his boot. He spoke very quietly; like he was making an announcement to a very subdued audience. “The King died at 12.22 this afternoon at St. George’s hospital. The Duke of York has been summoned and is now King George VI.” He rose from his chair as did the grim-faced captain. He straightened his jacket and walked slowly to the door, then turned; “I don’t know about you but I’m going to have a large whisky and then charge that bastard with murder and treason.”
He
slammed the door behind him with some force and disgust and the captain sat
back down, head in his hands. Chris stood arms folded for a couple of minutes
then said quietly; “What’s your orders now sir?” He had to repeat himself twice
more before the captain looked up and sighed; “Back to the office Newbury and
indulge in some whisky and burn some papers that will never see the light of
day.” The captain stood and slapped his hat back on, he hesitated as he pulled
open the door; “This will make things a lot easier for everyone concerned.”
Chris followed him out in silence and the pair left the chaos of the police station and drove back to Whitehall: again in silence.
Chris sat his desk and glanced across at the captain’s empty desk and wondered where he was. He shuffled the brown paper files about on his desk with no interest whatsoever in them. The morning papers were all black edged; solemnly proclaiming the death of King Edward VIII and the accession to the throne of his younger brother; Bertie who had been Duke of York. He was now King George VI. The assassin featured prominently in all the stories; a disgruntled Irishman who would certainly ‘swing’ for the murder of the young King.
The big door swung open and the several operatives in ‘Red’ Section all stood as Chris did. It was Colonel Neville Hopper and his assistant Captain Granville R.N. They walked straight over to Chris and that didn’t make him very happy. The Colonel was always direct [a strange habit for a spy, Chris always thought] and he said; “What was Captain Golding doing at Hyde Park yesterday young man and why were you there?” Chris didn’t smile; “I was the captain’s driver sir. Instructed to drive him and…. a guest to the park during the Trooping sir.”
The
Colonel folded his arms and stared hard at young Chris; “Who was the guest
young Mr. Newbury?” Chris shrugged his shoulders; “I don’t know sir; the
captain never introduced us.”
The
two men walked to the big window and had a very quiet discussion amongst
themselves, and Chris shuffled the files about and picked one up pretending to
read its contents. He clearly heard “Germans” mentioned and both men left the
big office; telling everyone to get on with their jobs.
Dave Kemp leaned over Chris’s desk, whispering. “I’d watch your back old chap. Your bloody boss has gone AWOL.” He glanced about, adding; “Apparently old Ames was in the communications room and heard one of the girls telling another that captain Edward Golding had gone; his flat was empty when a couple of operatives turned up from Special Branch to speak to him. Just done a moonlight flip; left everything and gone.”
Chris leaned back in his seat and slowly nodded his thanks. He almost jumped as his phone rang. He quickly lifted the receiver and listened carefully to the voice who spoke quietly. He placed the phone down and smiled at Dave. “Thanks Dave, but I was just the bloody driver and didn’t even know who the fat man in the back was. Golding constantly called him ‘sir’ so I knew he was someone important.” He managed a reassuring smile and shuffled the files about again. Dave just grunted; “I’d still look out my friend. They’ll be looking for scapegoats here and that’s why Golding has gone. Remember; no-one goes to court around here and if they can’t fire you because of what you know, you Just go for a swim in the Thames wearing concrete swim shorts.” He tapped the desk and walked off.
The clocks hands crawled around it face until lunchtime and Chris was first out the door, grabbing his hat and coat. He headed straight for the Strand and into the ‘Whig & Pen’ pub; a notorious pub that was full of lawyers and journalists. He purchased a pint of Guinness and some cheese & tomato sandwiches and sat in a quiet corner watching the door. He had been very careful to ensure he wasn’t followed and waited, humming a little tune that he had heard at the music halls for comfort. The young woman appeared a couple of minutes later and every man in the place stared – discretely – at her. She walked straight over and sat in the empty chair by Chris and smiled. Chris shouted to the barmaid to bring over a brandy for the lady. “What the bloody hell happened Mister Newbury?” was all she said.
2. THE AMERICAN
OPERATIVE.
Chris sipped his Guinness and looked about; “We can’t really talk here. There’s a safe house two streets away that we use to question and store defectors. At least we know we won’t be overheard there. Finish your drink and we’ll get going. I had no idea that you yanks were so interested in something like this.
Alex [in a wonderful American accent] nodded; “As long as it’s a real safe house. I can’t be compromised; the German’s are all over this already.” and really surprised the young agent when she tipped the drink straight down and placed the empty glass on the beer-stained table. He chuckled and did the same with his pint. “I see you weren’t one for Prohibition then.” Alex smiled and stood slowly whilst Chris pushed the uneaten sandwiches into his pocket explaining; “I’m a single man who works some strange hours, so I grab scoff when I can.” The pair laughed together when Alex stated she had the same problem as a single woman in the same business and left the pub walking to the ‘safe house’, with Chris constantly checking behind them.
The unassuming little terraced house was just down from the ‘Sailors' Home and Red Ensign Club’ in Dock Street, and they passed several sailors who really liked staring at Alex. Chris banged on the door and shouted through the letterbox; “Alec its Mister Newbury. I need to use the place.” A nice, smiling old man let them in; Alex was amused by his decent three-piece suit and bright red slippers. When he saw her looking at him, he just smiled; “Bloody martyr to my feet Miss.” Chris showed Alex into the big front reception room and thanked Alec who wandered off. “He’s straight as a dye and never reports anything about what us boys get up to here – well the unofficial stuff – so we can talk in safety.” They sat close together on the big sofa and Chris quietly retold the story and how the events unfolded. Alex was particularly interested in the big man who sat in Chris’s car and the assassin.
Alec disturbed them by bringing a bottle of brandy and some clean glasses, then left. Alex filled the glasses, and the pair sipped their brandies and chatted more. They discussed their personal lives a little and Alex really liked the quiet young man who was deceptively handsome close up. For his part, the way the woman shifted on the sofa and adjusted her smart dress really affected him. All he could think of was her stockings and panties under that dress. [All women had to wear stockings at the time; there were no ‘pantyhose’ available] and Alex seemed to know what the young man was thinking and loved it.
The
conversation turned to boyfriends and girlfriends and was quite explicit and
naughty at times as they enjoyed the bottle of brandy. Finally, a little
silence fell between the two and they just smiled at each other. Their lips
came together pretty quickly, and they kissed passionately on the sofa for some
minutes with Alex allowing Chris’s eager hand up her dress. “Do they have decent
bedroom’s here?” she whispered to a delighted young man who nodded vigorously
as he ran his hand between her legs and felt her moist cotton panties. He
whispered; “I see you want it as much as I do.” Alex nodded and he stood – his
erection obvious – and grabbed her hand. They disappeared upstairs to a big
back bedroom with an equally big double bed.
Kicking off shoes and pulling of jackets, they rolled on the bed, kissing and groping each other. Then started to undress with some speed; Chris whispered to Alex to keep on her stockings but pulled her panties down, leaving them around her right ankle. She tugged down his pants and took possession of his big erection with some unrestrained joy; he certainly was a well-equipped spy! Alex fumbled in her handbag and produced a KY jelly tube and smeared Chris’s cock with it and a little in her fanny. She backed up against the pile of pillows that were stacked by the big headboard and opened her legs. Chris was on her in an instant.
They kissed as he pushed his cock into her wet fanny and mounted her with some skill and started to fuck with real strength. She ran her hands down his broad back and gripped his heaving buttocks; encouraging his thrusts, not that he needed much encouragement! The sex lasted about ten minutes and Alex was a very disappointed woman; she had expected much better but consoled herself that she certainly wasn’t the first woman in history to be disappointed!
Alex lay on the bed watching Chris dress; he was a very happy man and humming to himself. “That’s very tuneful, where did you pick that up?” she asked and Chris grinned; “Me and some mates were at the music hall Monday night and a comedian sung it. Quite a naughty song, so much so, that the theatre chucked his act out and he only did the one night. Pity, because the tune is bloody catchy, isn’t it?” She just nodded and there was a voice at the door saying that Mister Newbury was wanted on the telephone; urgently. He sighed and finished dressing, kissing her twice and told her that he would need to go, and did she have the money for a cab? Alex nodded again and lay back as he disappeared out the door; still humming that damn tune.
Alex was sitting on the edge of the bed, picking up her clothes and checking her panties before pulling them on when there was quiet knock at the door. She pulled a sheet around herself and told them to enter. It was Alec who smiled and stood with his hands clasped in front of him. “I’m sorry Miss, but Mister Newbury appears not to have had clearance for the use of RED 6 [The safe house’s code name] and with all what’s going on about the late King, I have just been instructed to inform on all use of the property. I like Mister Newbury but my hands are tied, you understand.”
Alex sighed and nodded; “It would compromise me very much Alec, so I would be really grateful if you didn’t report Mister Newbury’s lapse of protocol. Can you do that?” Alex shrugged his shoulders; “I have my duties Miss.” She smiled; “I see Alec, but I think we can work out a happy compromise to this if you’re willing.” She pulled the sheet away and lay back against the pillows, very slowly opening legs and patting her crotch through her wet panties. “Do you really want to make out a report or take the compromise?” Alec smiled and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling down his braces and trousers. “Do you know Miss; I think I will take that compromise.”
He was a slightly built man, but his erect cock was a good size and he climbed on Alex with a big smile. He tugged down her panties and tossed them on the floor. He quickly mounted her with Alex muttering; “Didn’t bloody foreplay exist before the war?” He fucked her with some determination and plenty of joy; he clearly loved working her big tits with his hands and mouth. She gripped the sheets with both hands and watched the happy man fuck her. He wasn’t any type of Casanova and said very little as he enjoyed her young body. She restrained from smiling when he quickly groaned and really cussed; he had cum inside of her after just ten or fifteen minutes. He lay on top of her, sweating a little, and cussed some more.
“Did you enjoy that, Alec?” she asked him quietly as her lay on her, propped up on his elbows. He nodded and smiled; “Oh, yes thank you very much Miss that was the best bribe I’ve ever been offered around here for some time.” He chuckled and then groaned as his flaccid cock slipped from her very wet cunt. He kissed each nipple and sighed; “Would you like a nice cup of tea Miss?” That made Alex chuckle as his cum trickled from her vagina. “Oh, I would love a cup, Alec.” She said softly and leaned back, watching herself in the overhead mirror. “I take it you will destroy the film, so you don’t incriminate yourself in all this?” she patted his arm and he really smiled; “You’re a real clever one Miss. I won’t destroy the film. I’ll keep it for my very private collection; Mister Newbury certainly isn’t the first one to use RED 6 inappropriately I’m afraid.” He eased up and stood by the bed and pulled up his long johns. “Would you like to watch some? My little flat is in the basement and we could enjoy a nice cup of tea together. I have one of those new showers installed, you could enjoy that…. or we could both enjoy it.”
Alex sat up and really smiled; “You’re a very dirty old man Alec, but I bet you make a superb cup of tea.” He smiled and picked up his discarded clothes; “I certainly do Miss, come on, I certainly don’t mind if you just stay in your stockings.” He gestured to the door and Alex slipped from the bed and gathered up her handbag and clothes. “Lead the way stud.” She chuckled to herself and followed him downstairs to his flat.
He switched on the projector that was set up in his small front room after pulling the curtains in the basement flat. Alex sipped her tea and watched with interest the first performance; a middle-aged man and a young girl who was clearly a street tart. “She’s called Irene and normally works the Docks, but never on the weekends because she visits her mother and siblings.” Alec informed her, sitting on the small sofa with her; his hand caressing her thigh and occasionally having a squeeze of her tits.
“Who’s the man?” Alex asked, tolerating his groping. “Oh, that’s Captain Golding Miss he regularly uses the place inappropriately.” That made Alex laugh after what Chris had said about the man’s stiff and formal manners.
Alec changed the film and sat back down, placing her hand on his flaccid cock and she jerked it slowly. “You’ll like the next film Miss, its Mister Newbury’s good friend Mister Kemp and a middle- aged lady who was really experienced in the art of fucking. Just wait and see what she gets up to.” The film flickered into life and Alex watched with growing amazement – and some surprise – at what the pair indulged in. They seemed to work their way through the sexual deviation manual and both her and Alec laughed out loud several times. She could feel his cock stiffing under her gentle tugging and he would expect sex again.
That’s when the woman’s face became quite clear on the tape as she squatted over the sweating, but happy, young man and pissed on him. The knot in Alex’s stomach tightened; she had recognized the woman from her numerous old photographs! “When was this filmed?” she quietly asked Alec who was now kissing and sucking her breasts. He looked up and muttered; “Oh, a couple of weeks ago. Mister Kemp bought her here one night with another man; a much older gentleman in a very shabby old brown suit. He waited downstairs and had a cup of tea with me. He was Irish I believe and was one of Mister Kemp’s informants apparently. I don’t know who the woman was; she said nothing to me.” His hand disappeared between her legs and pushed them open.
“Lean back please Miss, I’ll have seconds now thank you.” He stood and Alex leaned back on the sofa as her mounted her again and immediately started to thrust with some joy. Alex continued to watch the film over his shoulder and actually gasped a little; the young man was pissing in the woman’s open mouth, and she clearly loved it. Alec fucked her for about fifteen minutes again before cussing as he shot his load into her. “I have to go Alec; I need to report in.” was all Alex said and twenty minutes later – after a piss and washing her crotch and thighs in his small bathroom – left to meet the team and book into their hotel.
The visit to Alec’s basement flat had proved most interesting and informative and the tea was good too, just a pity about the sex.
3. PLANNING ‘THE TRICK.’
The hotel foyer was packed with foreign reporters all trying to obtain rooms and Team 74 had to wait, sitting by the large window which allowed sunlight to stream in. Wilson peered over the top of his newspaper and grunted; “For someone who couldn’t hit a barn door with a grenade, this fellow put two rounds into the King’s chest with some accuracy. Then calmly stood there and let himself be grabbed without any resistance whatsoever. If I didn’t know better I would say that it wasn’t the actual original character of the old time-line.” He spoke quietly to Alex who nodded. “I was thinking that. The same man with two different characters and the new one has changed history in an instant.” Owen lowered his magazine – which had an unsmiling Adolf Hitler on the cover – and nodded to the reception desk. “I think we’re being called. I strongly suspect that the assassin is not the same man of the original timeline and we will need to check that out.”
Jericho stood and said quietly; “Come on let’s book in. I think our Owen is right about the assassin. No-one changes character that much and it’s too much of a co-incidence that it happens to be the man who could have changed history at the time and didn’t.”
They
walked to the reception desk and Owen whispered to Alex; “Blimey, I didn’t know
that monarchs were like buses, did you?”
Alex just shook her head and sighed; “What are you on about now?” Owen chuckled; “Well, three King’s in one year. You normally have to wait ages for one and suddenly three come along!” he laughed at his own joke, but Alex didn’t bother to reply. Wilson just sighed and folded up his newspaper. “Come on chuckles, you should be a music hall turn.” He didn’t smile. The Concierge [as Wilson would call him] handed out the keys and was surprised they didn’t need a Bellboy to assist with their luggage. “We travel light.” Was all Jericho grunted. They took the elevator to the fifth floor and were shown their rooms; everyone was pleased because Operations had booked them a room each despite the costs and the fact that the hotel was struggling to accommodate the foreign press that had descended on London following the assassination.
After settling in, they gathered in Jericho’s spacious room and discussed their latest mission; though Owen was more interested in the fine liquor bar that stood by the window. He poured everyone a brandy and they settled on chairs around the ornate fireplace. Alex opened the discussion by pointing out that the assassination should have changed the time very little; after all, the new King would have abdicated in a few months and his brother would be King anyway. Wilson agreed with her; “He marries the American woman and they live in France without ever having children. So, this King George’s daughter would have inherited anyway [Queen Elizabeth II] so why are we really here, when the timeline is not really under threat? Or is it?” he directed that question towards Jericho.
Jericho sipped his brandy and slowly smiled; “It appears that the original timeline will change further down the line because of the late King’s mistress. Since she never married him, she becomes much more deeply involved with her other current lover – apparently, she has three or four on the go at the moment – and keeps him from marrying his actual fiancé in May 1937. That means a certain individual is not born at the turn of the 21st century and that, in turn, creates enormous changes. Had the King survived the attempt on his life – as he should have done – then that very important individual would have been born because her lover does marry his fiancé; so, whilst for a few generations the current timeline is fine, after 2030 it goes bananas.”
Owen chuckled; “Is that a technical term? Bananas, I mean.”
Jericho
ignored him and sipped his brandy, continuing; “So we need to ensure that the
assassination does not occur, and everything rolls on unaltered. So, we start
with the old man in the shabby brown suit. In the original timeline he just
throws the gun at the King, but still gets apprehended. Oddly enough, he only
receives a very light sentence which is amazing; he should have been charged
with treason which carries the death penalty in these times. That mystery
aside, we need to know why it changed and became deadly. Over to you Alex.”
Alex lowered her glass; “I made contact with a human agent of Stella Longstreet [another Temporal Detective Inspector] who works for MI5 and was actually there, parked up with another – senior – MI5 operative who had a strange guest in the car. Apparently, this man was someone important but the agent doesn’t know why. To add to all this; the agent’s immediate boss has disappeared without any word to anyone. A certain Captain Edward Golding: I’ve checked him on my mirror and he’s from this time and place with a departure date of September 1940. He’s killed in an air raid and his soul will be collected and processed. Since all this is new, there is now no knowing if that will happen.”
She sipped her brandy and added; “It appears that MI5 knew about some sort of plot by the King’s mistress to warn the King off threatening her about her other lovers. He [the agent] seems to think that the shabby man in the brown suit was part of that warning, but it went wrong obviously.” She placed her brandy glass down; “On a serious note I discovered that a member of MI5 called Kemp knows the King’s mistress really well and that probably mean’s MI5 knew something was happening and actually did nothing about it. This Kemp fellow was – apparently – using the Irish assassin as an informant.”
“What a bloody big tin of worms.” muttered Wilson and knocked his brandy back. “We’ve all read the Human record on the assassin and this act is out of character, so we need to run a mirror over the man and find out if he matches the Human record, we have on him. If he doesn’t, then we’re on to an immediate winner and can deal with that swiftly. If he does, then we have quite a puzzle on our hands which must be solved.” Jericho said quietly and finished his brandy, adding, “After we confirm the assassin’s identity with our mirrors, we’ll look at this Kemp fellow. He could be involved deeply in all this.”
“How the hell do we run a mirror over him when he’s banged up in the bloody Tower of London under constant surveillance and guarded around the clock. It’s not the sort of place you waltz into and ask to visit a prisoner!” Owen said and headed for the well-stocked bar to pour re-fills for everyone; he didn’t even bother to ask. Jericho smiled and gestured to Alex; “Our wonderful and talented honey pot will get access and find out who the old man really is.”
“So, I’m to play the bloody tart again.” Muttered Alex and accepted a re-fill from the grinning Owen. Jericho expanded a little on the plan; “It may be the Tower of London, with Beefeaters wandering around, MI5 agents hanging around the place, local police on the gates and the prisoner covered with Prison officers. But that’s during the day, at night – like most places – there is a skeleton staff and would you believe just one prison officer remains on guard outside the prisoner’s actual cell. Tomorrow night it is a certain Thomas Devon, aged 29 and unmarried who appears a lonely soul out of work hours. He resides in a decent upstairs flat [above a posh lady’s dress shop near Tower Hill] and his hobby or rather obsession is stamps. Not an interesting individual, but I’m sure a stunning lady who shares his passion for philately will impress him. He’ll certainly want to impress her and the perfect opportunity to do that will be to let her see the most notorious and infamous prisoner in the entire British Empire. Specially if she ‘hints’ that is what she wants!”
“Charming and what if he if doesn’t happen to go for women?” Alex dourly replied. Jericho chuckled; “The Owen takes your part. Simple really.” Owen groaned and swigged his brandy. Wilson grinned and cradled his drink, smiling broadly; “Sometimes I’m so glad that I’m a big ugly Blackman.” Both Alex and Owen gave him a single digit salute which made him laugh even more.
Jericho eased back in his seat; “Young Thomas frequents a small shop near where he lives that’s a haunt for stamp collectors; the real serious ones. I understand the proprietor called the Late King George V a regular customer. Our Alex will be there, when he arrives, she will be looking for special – and expensive – rare stamps for her beloved brother’s birthday. The rest Alex can make up as she goes along. I certainly wouldn’t dare to advise her how to get a young man’s undivided attention and interest.” He laughed outright at that and enjoyed his second brandy. “Let’s go for lunch.” He added and the briefing broke up.
4. THE STAMP COLLECTOR.
Alex walked up the steps of Mark Lane tube station and headed for the little shop that was sandwiched between a gaudy, highly decorated public house and an insurance office. She was dressed in the height of lady’s fashion for 1936, looking absolutely stunning; like she had stepped off a Paris fashion walkway and several men – and women – actually stopped walking or talking and watched her go by. Just yards behind came Owen who would also attend the shop; he was there as ‘back-up’ and would be shadowing Alex during the operation. No one looked at him twice!
The little bell tinkled above the door and Alex went straight to the rear of shop that actually sold all sorts of ‘curiosities’ from around the British Empire. She grimaced as she passed a lion’s head, mounted on a polished wooden plaque; to Alex it appeared to have a ‘surprised’ look on its face! The little brass plate beneath declared that the beast was shot by Mr. George Allen in 1910 after eating a couple of natives in the local Church. There was several medieval handheld torture devices going for a ‘bargain’ as the cards attached to them reported. Alex stared at them and walked on. Then she saw, what she thought was a small yoke, and then realized they were a torture devise used on women in medieval times as punishment for not obeying their husbands. It was fitted onto their breasts and weights were added: as many that satisfied the husband’s wrath apparently. The wife was
expected to do her chores so
shackled. Alex shook her head in disgust then noticed the rear of the shop. It contained
three desks and one display cabinet attended by an old gentleman who looked
like he had stepped from a Dickens novel. He was talking to a big, strapping
young man in a decent suit that was holding his hat with both hands. They were
deep in conversation about German Empire stamps that had existed before the
Great War.
Alex looked around and pretended to study some open stamp collection books in the cabinet. The old man turned and smiled; “I will wait on you in a minute Madam.” But the young man smiled at Alex and gestured the old man towards her; “It’s OK Frank, serve the young lady first, I can wait, I’m not on shift tonight until ten o’clock.”
Frank nodded and asked Alex how he could help. She noticed – smiling to herself – that the young man didn’t return to staring at the stamps! She explained that she wanted to buy some stamps for her younger brother who was already a keen Philatelist, in particular, for anything from exotic locations of the Empire. She asked Frank if he had anything from, say, Honduras.
That caught the attention of the young man at once; he had purchased some stamps from that country just a couple of days ago. Alex had done her homework well [with Owens’s help of course] and he was now really interested in Alex. Frank showed Alex a sheet of stamps that covered the years 1865 to just last year, all from Honduras. Alex studied the sheet carefully and pointed out there were - apparently – two missing and she wanted the complete collection for her brother. Frank sighed; “I so sorry but I sold them to that gentleman just a few days ago.” Alex turned to Thomas and smiled; really smiled. Thomas stared at her and then sputtered; “He’s right, I bought two from that sheet. I’m sorry.” Alex turned back to Frank and asked how much the sheet was and Frank wiped his face; “I’m sorry Miss, but I couldn’t let them go for less than two pounds, even with two missing.”
Alex just smiled and opened her handbag; “I’ll take them, Could you put them in an envelope or something. Are you likely to get the missing stamps in again?” Frank shook his head; “Not for some time I’m afraid.” Alex produced the two pounds and Frank went to his desk with the money and placed the stamps in a strong brown envelope. Alex turned to Thomas and smiled again.
“Sir, I couldn’t persuade you to part with them? I want my brother to be absolutely thrilled with his present and I think two missing from the sheet will diminish that joy.”
Thomas just stood staring and finally as Frank handed the envelope and receipt over, said quietly; “I will certainly think about it Miss…” Alex interrupted him; “It’s Alex, Alexandra Cappanni and you are?” Thomas now really smiled and shyly introduced himself. Alex really wouldn’t let the conversation drop and worked on the young man with all her charms; and there mountains of them! They walked from the shop together talking about Thomas’s big passion; stamps. Owen had to smile as he shadowed the pair after calling Jericho and telling him that a successful contact had been made.
Alex agreed to have a quiet drink in the ‘Tiger Tavern’ a huge four-story pub just up from Tower Dock. They sat in the saloon bar which was quite busy and young Thomas supped a pint of Charrington’s best bitter, whilst Alex enjoyed a glass of mild stout. There was no food available but there were pickled eggs and onions on the main bar, which customers seemed to help themselves to.
It took another pint, but Alex finally managed to get Thomas to open up and he was now ‘Tom’. He had been a prison officer for three years and did ‘Special’ jobs like babysitting the condemned before they were hanged. Alex seized on that; saying just how interested she was in crime and punishment with her father a lawyer [part of her cover story] and she would be really excited to see such prisoners before they met their final fate. “I would love to meet that man who shot the King. I know that sounds morbid, but it would mean that I actually took part in a little piece of real history. Do you feel the same?” She was working hard on the young man and the cracks were starting to appear.
He agreed to sell her the two stamps for five shillings and as the little session wore on; they were hers for nothing!
Tom spoke about the pub they were sitting in; there had been a ‘Tiger Tavern’ at Tower Hill since the Tudor Times, and it had many myths and legends about the place; some true and some not. Alex was fascinated to hear about the mummified cat and the secret tunnel to the tower. Tom lowered his voice when speaking about the ‘tunnel’. “I’m not supposed to say, but you can enter the Tower through it, coming up in ‘The Queen’s House’. That’s where the notorious King Killer is being held. I will be sitting outside his door tomorrow night, now that’s incredible, isn’t it?”
With that admission, Alex went in for the kill part of her ruthless ‘charm offensive’ and really appeared to be excited about that; “I would absolutely frilled just to take a peek at the man who murdered the poor King. Imagine that? I would of course keep that to myself. I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble Tom.” She smiled and fluttered her eyes; her hand patting his. She saw by the look on the young man’s face that she had cracked it. He agreed to meet her for lunch in the city; her treat for the stamps and they would return here at night, and he would escort her to The Queen’s house where the prisoner was lodged, and she could take a ‘peek’. They finished their drinks and Tom spoke quietly with the big rough looking man who ran the pub.
Alex watched them shake hands and knew that the use of the fabled tunnel was theirs. The little escapade was set up for Saturday 18th July just before Tom booked on for the night shift. They left the pub in good spirits and Tom was most reluctant to say goodbye when Alex waved a Taxi down and nervously gave her a little kiss on the cheek and they parted. Alex had the cabbie stop by the Italian Café two streets down and pick up Owen.
She recounted the success of her mission quietly as the cab drove back to their hotel.
5. CLOSE ENCOUNTERS.
Wilson sat at the wheel of the Austin 10 Sedan and ran his big hands around the wheel. Jericho was in the front passenger seat checking his mirror and the pair waited for Alex and Owen to appear from the hotel. “How long does it take for woman to get damn ready?” Wilson sighed and then his arm leaned backwards out of the window and opened the rear door. Owen slipped in smiling; “She’s on her way down.” Jericho opened the rear door on his side, and everyone waited – again. Then Alex appeared looking quite stunning in her outfit. It looked as if she walked off the front cover of a 1930’s women’s fashion magazine. She slipped in and smiled at them. “I hope I wasn’t too long boys.”
“No, you missed a couple of Ice-ages, but you’re fine.” Wilson muttered and started the car. They drove around Trafalgar Square and down the Strand, heading into the City of London. Owen lowered his mirror; “That big black car is still behind us, two vehicles down with two men in. I really think they’re following us.” Wilson nodded and Jericho was already checking the number plate; “War Department [now MOD] and I think we may have been compromised. You two [asking Owen and Alex] made sure you weren’t followed?” Alex nodded and peered through the small rear window and cussed; “The driver is that MI5 agent Dave Kemp and I strongly suspect the passenger – the older man – is probably that missing Captain Golding.”
Jericho nodded and told Wilson to pull over outside a gentleman’s Cigar and Cigarette shop. “We’ll see who they are interested in. Owen, you come with me and Wilson – if they follow you and Alex – just drive around the city. Don’t drop off Alex for her rendezvous with young Devon. Simply return to the hotel.”
Wilson nodded and Jericho, with Owen close behind leapt from the car and wandered nonchalantly into the small shop. Wilson pulled away and sure enough; the car followed them. Jericho stood in the shop doorway and nodded at Owen; “Someone has clearly told them about Alex and maybe, her forthcoming visit to see Britain’s most notorious prisoner.” Owen hailed a passing taxi and the pair headed back to their hotel to rejoin Alex and Wilson. Jericho already had a plan fermenting in his head to ensure that Alex kept her most important contact and it would now also involve Owen.
Kemp and Golding sat bored in the big car and watched the endless stream of people passing through the hotel doors without too much conversation between the pair. Golding consulted his watch and grunted; “Are Smith and Robinson bloody trustworthy enough to stay awake while watching the staff and tradesmen entrances?” Kemp nodded and yawned; “The pretty little tart will lead us straight to their contact and expose what the fuck they are up too.” Golding sat back and muttered that supposedly being on the run was fucking tiring. That’s when Kemp slapped his arm; “Take a look that’s just come out the hotel with a tart on his arm!” Golding leaned forward; it was Newbury with a gorgeous dark-haired woman, wearing an expensive fur with the collar up. The doorman was smiling at her as he hailed a cab.
Golding shook his head; “If she thinks a black wig and pulling up her fur collar won’t get her recongonised; then she’s fucking mistaken. There can’t be two such classy tarts in the building and we know she met Newbury and he could be her contact. We also know their team consists only of three men and her, so we have got the bastards!” Kemp started the engine and followed the cab the apparently happy couple had jumped into.
Jericho stood in the foyer with Alex and smiled; “Our Owen – sorry Jackie – has come up trumps. I take it Mister Newbury doesn’t know it’s a young man?” Alex adjusted her hat and had to smile; “Well, if he tries anything saucy, his in for a shock!” She headed for the doors and the doorman fetched her cab immediately. The big man tipped his fancy hat and she was gone.
Kemp sat rubbing his chin – a little bemused – as they sat outside their supposed ‘Safe House; RED 6’ and watched the happy couple disappear inside. Golding folded his arms and cussed under his breath, much to the surprise of Kemp. “Dirty bastard, so all it was about was a sly fuck on the side. This leads us nowhere, but she’s all we got.” Golding slumped in his seat, somewhat disconsolate at this turn of events. Then he chuckled; “At least young Newbury is keeping up the fine reputation of RED section when it comes to fucking things.”
They were relieved by Hodges and Taylor about an hour later and Kemp dropped the captain off in Trafalgar Square. He made his way quickly to Admiralty House and took the small private lift to the top floor and the highly secure “Nelson Suite”. A young woman who didn’t smile much showed him into Lord Tobin’s office. The big man behind the equally big desk sat smoking with a glass of whisky in his hand. He didn’t offer the captain a drink but told him to sit down. Golding explained about the current status of the surveillance mission and the big man just grunted in response. Finally, he placed his glass down and leaned on the desk with both arms. He slowly pulled the fat cigar from his mouth and spoke softly.
“The specialist research team has identified the three men and the woman. They are who we suspected; bloody Jericho Tibbs and his team which means the young King should not have died and they will attempt to restore the timeline. That is not in our best interests. Good riddance to that morally corrupt bastard. He’s brother is far easier to control, and the sheep will accept him without too much trouble. So, how do we deal with these interfering agents of God? We’ve seen how these teams have altered our history before and not always to our advantage. We have secret records on these ‘people’ – if you can still call them that – going back to Medieval Times. Our American friends have an entire section of their National Secret Service keeping watch on their activities.” The big man sighed and placed his cigar in the ashtray. He eased himself up and walked to the window and stared out at Trafalgar Square. He was silent for almost a full minute, then turned to Golding and smiled.
“Can you imagine all those mindless unthinking sheep out there finding out there is a God and of course, a Devil for real?” Lord Tobin shook his head. “My word, the dumb bastards would be uncontrollable and our position in the human hierarchy would be seriously jeopardized!” He walked back to the desk and leaned on it. “Find out if that damn King was supposed to have lived and what the alternative versions of our immediate history should and could be. Nothing must change the great plan. The next World war must go ahead. These plans have been in progress for over a hundred years and us humans WILL have control over our own destiny, regardless of what that so-called God wants!” Lord Tobin gestured to the door and added; “Get on with it Golding and remember; The Priests of Chronos don’t like failure. They have existed now for almost five thousand years and within the next century of human existence; their plans will succeed.”
Golding rose and nodded. He placed his hat on and walked to the door. He already knew what he had to do.
Chris peered through the slit in the curtains and smiled; “They are waiting, which means Alex must be on her way to meet Devon. Normally, I would be jealous but not with a little cracker like you are sitting there.” He turned and grinned at Jackie sipping her tea and he actually rubbed his crotch; he already had a erection just by sitting close in the cab and on the sofa. He sat back down and slowly took the teacup from her; “Now, what does this young man get for saving a damsel in distress? I’m sure her best friend would like to say, ‘thank you’ on her behalf.” He slapped the cup down on the coffee table and pulled the surprised Jackie to him; his tongue disappearing into her mouth.
His hand was quickly underneath her blouse and found her tits were firm and pert. Not a big as Alex’s, but he wasn’t in the mood for complaining. He pushed her hand into his trousers and her fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. “Do you suck little darling? I love that.” He whispered in her ear when he finally pulled his tongue from her mouth. Jackie took a couple of little breaths and smiled sweetly; “There’s really something you should know Chris, I’m not really Alex’s girlfriend, I’m her…” Chris wasn’t actually listening because his mouth was locked back on Jackie’s and he pushed her down on the sofa as she released his erection. He pulled up her flimsy dress and groaned at the sight of stockings and lacy black French knickers. Chris pulled down his trousers and pants in one swift move; his green braces flying off and pushed himself down on Jackie with some force.
“I think you should stop now Chris because you really are not going to be happy….” Jackie said forcibly, pushing his fumbling hands away from her knickers elastic. But he wouldn’t stop and just laughed; “No, now little darling you want it as much as I do.” and pulled her panties down with one quick movement. Jackie just sighed and shook her head. “I did try and tell you I’m Alex’s colleague; her male colleague….” Chris’s head appeared from under her dress, and he slowly smiled, much to Jackie’s surprise and some mild shock. She stared at his happy face, and he whispered; “You’re one of those half men, half women I heard about. For fuck’s sake I’ve dreamed of having someone like you. Now where’s the fucking cream….”
Jackie was still in a state of surprise as Chris had mounted her on the sofa, her legs pulled right up so that her heels were around his shoulders. His mouth was all over hers as he trusted deep into her greased bum hole. “I fucking love your cock banging against my belly!” he shouted and groaned with passion as he fucked her hard and fast. Jackie gripped his shoulders and groaned happily with each thrust, it didn’t take long for him to empty his load into her backside with lots of panting, groaning and swearing.
They lay together on the sofa, his tongue still exploring her mouth. Finally, he leaned up and grinned; “Best piece of arse I’ve ever had my little darling and I’m going to enjoy it again.” He pulled from her and sat on the sofa, wiping his cock with his hankie. Jackie eased herself up and pulled a hankie from her handbag to wipe her bum. He gently took hold of her head and guided it to his cock. “I bet your fucking mouth can get this up in just a few minutes.” He pushed his cock into her mouth and stroked her hair as she licked and caressed it. He was right; he was up and ready in just minutes. They now fucked doggy-style on the carpet for some minutes and then changed to the missionary position for him to come in her again. The pair lay on the floor still in a firm embrace; kissing and caressing each other. Jackie jerked her erect cock for just a few minutes before spurting, watched by a panting Chris who stroked her hair and whispered; “Next time, that’s my job, my little darling.” and passionately kissed her for some minutes. He was relaxed and smiling, lying on the bed with his arms behind his head, telling Jackie all sorts of stories about the department to impress his new love. He told her about the big nasty assassin they used on tough jobs. “TD is about the best, he’ll kill anything for money and most people think he’s as gentle as a choirboy.” Jackie replied that she wouldn’t like to meet the fellow in a dark alley and Chris laughed, slipping from the bed, and joining her in the bathroom.
Chris simply wouldn’t leave her alone as Jackie tried to clean herself up and straighten her makeup in the small bathroom. He stood behind her, hands all over her body including her flaccid penis, which he now caressed with some care. He licked her ears and neck and whispered some truly disgusting things that he wanted the pair to try. Finally, Jackie managed to heave him from the bathroom and with much relief, have a pee and clean her bum properly.
She wondered how Alex was getting on with young Devon.
Young Thomas Devon gripped Alex’s gorgeous bum with both hands and groaned; he still couldn’t believe what had happened. She was dressed only in black stockings, suspender belt and heels, riding him like he was ‘Reynoldstown’ at the last fence at Aintree. Those incredible big breasts were bouncing just inches from his happy face. He leaned back and moaned with absolute pleasure and much passion. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she pushed down hard on his cock which was buried up to his balls in her fanny. He knew that buying those bloody stamps was the best thing he ever did in his life!
The bed in his small flat was creaking in protest as the pair fucked with passion and determination. They were now in the missionary position with Alex’s back against some pillows as he pushed his cock home with real force and speed. Alex already had a couple of small organisms and knew with fucking like this a big one would surely follow. She held tight to her ankles and groaned loudly with the intensity of his thrusts. His big hands were gripping the shaking headboard as he pushed his hips back and forth, driving his cock into her.
Alex suddenly gripped his shoulders and screamed; she had a monster climax and spurted three or four times, making her legs shake and bringing tears to her eyes. Tom joined her in shouting as he came too, cussing and groaning. The pair collapsed on the bed and lay together for some time before speaking. Finally, Alex eased off the bed and looked at the bedside clock. “I need to take a bath and get ready for our little visit to Britain’s most notorious man!” she smiled at Tom and headed for the bathroom. But the look on the young man’s face stopped her; he was clearly having second thoughts about risking his job and it showed.
Alex walked back and stood by the bed, she slowly turned and bent over a little, looking over her shoulder and gently pulled her bum cheeks apart. She grinned at the look on his face now; “Darling, if you keep your word, then you can have some fun with this when we get back. Is that a deal my love?” Tom leaned forward and grabbed Alex’s around the waist and kissed both bum cheeks vigorously muttering; ”I’d bloody run naked into Buckingham Palace for this.” Alex sighed and smiled, then headed again for the bathroom. Men were such simple creatures she thought and then chuckled to herself. Didn’t the followers of Islam have a saying that Allah gave humanity ten levels of sexuality and nine of them went to women! [Alex is almost right; it was Saidina Ali r.a., the Prophet's close companion and son-in-law, had symbolically described the fundamental difference of male and female sexuality.]
They sat in the taxi as it threaded its way through the busy London streets; Tom kept caressing her leg and pushing his hand up her flimsy skirt. They kissed a couple of times and he hoarsely whispered into her ear; “My God, you really are a dirty little tart, but I utterly adore you.” Alex smiled and gestured to the back of the driver’s head; “Not in front of the staff darling. You can enjoy your dirty little tart later and it will be really dirty sex. You’ll love it.” She whispered and tapped his lips with her fingers. He smiled and kissed her ear; “I’ll kill any bastard that puts a hand on you, your mine now.” Alex stared in his eyes and restrained from sighing: his face was an open book and revealed what he was thinking without him even knowing it. He had meant every word and that caused Alex some concern; this young man would need careful handling.
The cab pulled up outside the ‘Tiger
Tavern’ as the evening light was fading, and the pair strolled into the pub
which was now beginning to fill for the night. They made their way to a table
at the rear by the big staircase and sat. Tom kissed her again and went to the
bar to fetch some drinks. Alex checked her make-up in her small mirror and
smiled at Jericho and Wilson sitting by a small window which was broken and was
held together by strips of brown tape. They raised their glasses to her and
went back to reading their evening papers. Alex wondered how Jackie was
getting on with Chris Newbury. She would call Jackie’s mirror and get the juicy
details.
6. THE TUNNEL, THE PRISONER AND THE SURPRISE.
The rough man stood by the small door at the rear of the main bar and gestured to the pair as they finished their drinks. He was holding a ‘Hurricane’ lamp and what appeared to be a very old brass key. He didn’t smile or say hello as they joined him but did look Alex up and down and Tom slipped him some money discretely which did make a small smile appear. “This way Tom and your tart had better not scream the place down because there’s a few rats running about down there.” Tom grunted and said with a little anger in his voice; “She’ll be fine and she’s no tart Isaiah; she’s going to be my misses, so some respect would be nice.” Now that revelation did surprise Alex as Tom grabbed her hand, and the rough man muttered some kind of apology and opened the door. They followed him down a dark, stone staircase with well worn steps, until they reached a small room filled with junk. Alex stared as a small grey rat ran past them and quickly disappeared into what appeared to be a broken bed.
Isaiah held up his lamp in front of a carved – maybe medieval – cupboard and pushed the key into the lock which was decorated with stars and dragons. Alex thought the cupboard was quite beautiful in a strange way. Isaiah had the door open and slowly gestured them in. Tom pulled a flashlight from his shoulder bag and switched it on. There was yet another staircase descending into more darkness. “Thanks Isaiah, we won’t be long. I’ll buy you a whisky when we return. I’m on duty at ten so this is a quick one.” Isaiah just nodded and walked away, kicking out at another rat who sat by the door as if watching what was happening. The pair descended – again – into the darkness.
Tom was impressed when Alex simply brushed away thick cobwebs and their residents as they passed down the narrow tunnel. A couple of rats did actually run over her shoes, and she took a couple of deep breaths instead of screaming. They stopped in front of an ornate carved doorway with no handle or lock, but a little wicket with a well-worn wooden knob. Tom pulled it down very slowly and peered through. “Good, there’s no-one in the privy. Come on darling.” Tom said quietly and closed the wicket, running his hand down the left side of the frame. Alex heard a little click and Tom gently pushed the door open and they stepped through. The smell of sour urine and disinfectant was overpowering; they were in some very old- fashioned toilets. “This way, the door opens into the guard’s room outside the cell chamber.” Tom whispered.
He slowly opened the door and peered inside; then checked his watch and smiled; “Rob and Dave are in the small kitchen for their tea and sandwiches, listening to the radio, so we have about ten minutes before they return. Come on darling.”
They crept past the small kitchen where they could hear voices and a radio playing. The cell door was a monstrous construction of wood and iron but had a small window – with thick bars – at shoulder height. Tom gestured to it; “Go on, have a peek at him. I’ll watch the kitchen.” Alex gripped her handbag and stared into the cell, carefully operating her mirror. The sad face appeared at the wicket and almost smiled. Alex whispered; George Andrew McMahon?“ He shook his head and said softly; “Like I’ve been telling anyone who would listen; its Dudley Crankshaw and I didn’t know the fucking gun would actually fire. I know now that Elizabeth set me up. I thought travelling in time would be fun, but instead these mad bastards will string me up and she’s run off.”
Alex pushed her mirror into her handbag and whispered – with a smile – to the sad man; “Don’t worry Dudley, we will get you out of this and return you home. Who was Elizabeth?” Dudley sighed; “I thought she really cared about me and was interested in my model trains, but she just wanted me because I looked like someone who was around in these times. Elizabeth Wallace set me up and just vanished. She and her real boyfriend who is supposed to work for British Intelligence in these times. They said I would be wealthy and happy here, but it was just a big deception.” He stared down and then pushed his face close to the bars; “Can you really get me out and get me home?” Alex slowly nodded and whispered through the bars how he could help them get him out. They were interrupted by Tom who took hold of Alex’s arm; ”Come on, they’ll be back soon.”
The pair made the toilets door and just closed it as Dave and Rob returned to the cell area and took up their positions on chairs either side of the big cell door. As they disappeared through the secret panel into the tunnel Tom grinned and whispered into Alex’s ear; “You owe me some fun my dirty little tart and I will enjoy what I’m owed.” They made their way through the tunnel and back to the pub which was now packed. Tom kept his word with Isaiah and brought him a bottle of whisky before they left the ‘Tiger Tavern’ and caught a taxi back to Tom’s flat.
Alex gripped the pillows and breathed deep a couple of times as Tom pushed hard and deep into her bum, slowly at first, then a little quicker until she reached back and patted his thigh; “Not so hard darling, nice and slow and you’ll enjoy it more.” She asked him quietly and the young man just grunted and eased over her, thrusting slower and gasping with real pleasure. She turned back to the scruffy headboard and then stared at the clock. Jericho and the team would be back in the hotel now, if the plan was unfolding correctly. A big hand had taken hold of her left tit and was squeezing like he wanted to produce milk. She groaned and gripped his hand telling him to be gentle. He chuckled; “Don’t be silly darling, you like it a little rough.” With both hands on her shoulders now he gently pushed her head and shoulders down onto the pillow and started to fuck her arse with some passion.
Alex groaned and gripped the pillows; she could feel his cock buried deep in her back passage and her stomach was now tightening; an orgasm was on its way. It came quicker than she expected and made her shake and cuss. Tom actually laughed and shouted; “Told you that you liked it fucking rough!” and fucked her hard and fast until he came too. Alex lay on the bed and wiped some tears from her face as Tom wiped his cock with a towel from the bathroom. He handed it to her and kissed her forehead and lips. “I suppose I can only have that when you want something off me my dirty, but lovely, little tart?” Alex turned her head and didn’t smile, saying quietly; “What do you mean by that?” He chuckled and gripped her left tit and squeezed the nipple; “You know what I mean, when we’re married if you want a new sofa or new dress or something expensive, you’ll let me have your arse because you’ll know that I’ll give you anything you want to have that little brown hole.” He leaned over and kissed her and eased from the bed as she sat up; Alex was a little angry but restrained from saying anything. Instead, she just smiled; “You can read me like a book darling.” and wrapped her arms around the pillow, watching him through the bathroom door peeing, whilst humming some song from the music halls that he had heard.
Alex slowly straightened the ribbon holding her hair up and then realised she had heard that tune before. But where and who was humming it? The realization of whom and where she had heard the tune came to her and she stared at young Tom. She grabbed her handbag from the bedside table and asked Tom where he heard the tune. He was washing his hands and cock in the sink, but shouted back; “Me and some mates were at the music hall on Monday and a comedian sang it. Very naughty but funny. Didn’t go down well with the theatre manager and he chucked the fellow out. We felt sorry for him; it was funny, if near the knuckle.” He stood naked in the doorway, wiping his hands and Alex asked him who he went to the theatre with. Tom shrugged his shoulders and threw the towel onto the edge of the bath; “Just me and some mates from the prison service.”
Alex slowly nodded, knowing full well that his was lying; his face betrayed his lies clearly. “Mates from the prison service? Who were they and are you going to introduce me to them?” She asked and he became quite flustered and changed the subject; did she want to go out for dinner? The Italian café did a real good evening meal and cheap too. She shook her head; she needed to go and meet her friends at the hotel. He didn’t smile and quickly returned to the bathroom to run a bath without saying anything more. Alex quickly gathered her clothes and despite desperately needing a bath, dressed quickly and slipped quietly from the room. Outside the door she operated her mirror and was gone. She now knew why young Tom had been chosen to guard such an important prisoner; to assassinate him before he ever came to trial. If Dudley was killed before he could be returned to his own time; then the changes to the current human time line would be permanent. Chris Newbury’s slip of the tongue to Jackie about the departmental assassin simply called ‘TD’ now made sense, deadly sense.
7. THE DISTRACTION.
Jackie lowered her mirror and smiled a little; “Dudley Crankshaw who was born in 1972 and is shown as a missing soul. There’s no relevant record about an Elizabeth Wallace for this time period and those that match her name and description are all shown to be correctly residing in their Ordained Times. So that is obviously an Alias. To discover who she is, we would need a photograph or some good quality image to run a mirror over.”
Jericho nodded his thanks, but did smile; “Right, we break dopey Dudley out of the Tower and return him to his own time period before he jumped here and the Timeline will return to its original condition before the bloody shooting of this King nobody wants, takes place. We know that at least one MI5 operative is involved with the King’s mistress and now we have their happy assassin on the case. I think they will soon turn on Dudley to tie up the loose ends. So, we need to move quickly.” Wilson grunted his agreement with that and asked how they could gain access now the tunnel was closed to them because of the revelation about Tom Devon. Jackie now really smiled; “Our Alex is one step ahead of all of us. She’s told Dudley to say he’s ill and the authorities will send some highly regarded quack – a sir or something – to look him over. We just have to get their first!”
Jericho shrugged his shoulders; “Couldn’t have thought up a better scheme myself. Our Alex is really starting to get this job now.” He studied his mirror and said softly; “I’ll put a call into Supplies, we’re going to need some props for this one to work.”
There was a gentle tap on the door and Jackie opened it and smiled broadly, giving Alex a little kiss as she came through; “That call of yours with the prisoner’s identity and details of the bloody assassin was first class girl!” she told Alex who smiled and whispered back; “It cost me a sore bum, but I’ll keep that to myself….and you of course.” Jackie chuckled; “Ditto.” Was all she said, and Alex smiled again; knowing full well what she meant.
Jericho and Wilson congratulated her on a job well done and Jackie poured her a welcome cup of hot coffee, laced with a little brandy. Jericho smiled and looked up from his mirror; “It’s on people; the Tower authorities have just been told that that a surgeon – Sir Jasper Montgomery-Flays – and his team will attend the prisoner tomorrow morning. So, I’ll play the surgeon [everyone else chuckled at that not so startling revelation] and Jackie will be my nurse. We’ll attend Dudley and say he needs some hospital treatment. Wilson, you and Alex will delay the real doctor and his team for at least half an hour to give us time to pull the switch.” He tapped his mirror; “Right, let’s get some sleep. Old Joe will be here first thing in the morning.”
Wilson sat behind the wheel, looking quite resplendent in his chauffeur’s outfit. He adjusted his cap and turned to Alex sitting in the back. “That’s the ambulance waiting for the Tower run with the miserable tall nurse checking her fob watch. Now where is the good doctor?” Alex looked up from her mirror and did smile.
“He’s only thirty-five, which is young for a surgeon with the position he has obtained. He’s a keen Bridge player and I’ve done some background on him. Unmarried with a flourishing practice in Harley Street and I expect a string of disappointed girlfriends.”
She could say that with some certainty having seen his picture. The good doctor was a rugged handsome man who still played football when he could, and Alex really had no qualms about showing her fanny to him! Wilson had laughed hard and loud upon hearing how Alex was going to distract him; a worried young woman who thought she had something wrong with her fanny. Few men – even doctors – would turn up the opportunity at having a close look at her honey pot.
“That’s him.” She said, pushing her mirror into her little handbag. Alex was dressed to kill in her expensive summer dress, jacket and hat. She was playing Mrs. Alex Chapel and would pretend to have met the doctor before. Wilson – still smiling – stood by the passenger door and opened it for her. She slowly slipped gracefully from the rear seat, knowing that the young doctor was watching her. An obvious lady with a big black chauffeur would be an unusual spectacle in 1930’s London.
She waved at him and strode over, smiling and waving. “Doctor Montgomery! Can I have a quick word please!” He stopped and smiled as she bounced up to him. Alex rambled on about the Roseberry House party weekend and how he could help her. Finally, with quite a quizzical look upon his face, he asked who she was. Alex giggled and introduced herself as Mrs. Chapel and her husband played bridge with him at that house party. The doctor just smiled and held his top hat with both hands. “I thought I would remember someone like you miss but…” Alex really smiled; “Mrs. and my husband was one of the bridge player’s sir, at the Roseberry House party.” The young doctor smiled and asked how he could help. Alex leaned near his shoulder and whispered in his ear. He ran a finger around his –now suddenly - quite tight collar. “Well, if you think its important Mrs. Chapel, I can take a quick look and maybe put your mind at rest.” He turned to the sour faced nurse and muttered; “I won’t be long Miss Graft; you stay with the ambulance.”
He and Alex waltzed back into the hospital and Wilson couldn’t hide his quiet laughter. He called Jericho on his mirror and said simply; “It’s on, she’s bagged him.” Sir Jasper removed his hat and coat as Alex stood by the consultation bed with its clean white sheet and pillows and smiled at the doctor, who washed his hands, telling her it was probably nothing. “Should I undress sir?” she asked softly, and he nodded, washing his hands a third time. He looked slowly over his shoulder to see Alex slipping from the flimsy summer dress and place it on the bed, followed by her petticoat. He took a deep breath and slowly dried his hands. She removed her soft silk vest to reveal she wasn’t wearing any brassiere. He actually wiped his head with the towel at the sight of those beauties. Her breasts were pert, and the big nipples erect. She slipped down her frilly white panties over her stockings and suspenders and placed them on the bed.
“I’m all yours doctor.” She said quietly and sat on the bed as he chucked the towel on the floor. He managed to say hoarsely; “If you could just open your legs, I’ll examine your vagina.” Alex nodded and did as she was told. The doctor swallowed hard; his bloody erection was killing him. He stood between her legs and stared at heaven on earth and sighed. The bulge in his expensive and now unbearably tight trousers was obvious and Alex giggled; “Oh dear sir, have I done that. I’m so sorry.” She sat up and had his zip down in an instant and his large, swollen cock fell into her hands. Without a word she went down on him, and he groaned with surprise and lust.
The consulting bed was shaking as the pair fucked hard; Alex on her back, with her ankles wrapped around the small of his back. He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body and his touch was gentle and firm. He was pushing his cock into her with real skill and Alex appreciated that; having a little squirt as he fucked her hard, deep and fast. But it was when their tongues crashed together that the real passion was ignited. They were fucking and kissing so passionately they almost fell off the small bed. They ended up on the cold floor, with the good doctor fucking her ‘doggy-style’ and Alex had a huge orgasm under his skilled fucking which made him chuckle. He was gripping her big swinging tit’s like a milkmaid would and expertly squeezed the nipples which made Alex groan with pleasure. They now actually rolled about the floor in unbridled ecstasy, grunting, panting, and gasping as the fucking reached a crescendo and he came inside of her with some swearing.
Alex groaned loudly as she felt every powerful drop of his sperm flood into her. If she was trying for a baby that would have hit the jackpot: she thought, she could feel the stuff hitting her stomach. She really did groan loudly and pulled him to her lips. They lay together for some minutes, just kissing and caressing each other. Finally, Sir Jasper managed to speak; “In my humble professional opinion young lady, I would say that there is nothing wrong with your little treasure in any way. I must also express my thanks to you and would be very pleased if you would divorce your husband and marry me. I won’t even send him a bill for this consultation!” They both laughed and kissed some more. Alex smiled to herself at the thought – if the timeline doesn’t get reset – the good doctor confronting old Mr. Chapel about his wife’s infidelity and the doctors wish to marry her when the old lady was nearly seventy!
8. THE VANISHING PRISONER.
The ambulance stood in the Tower quadrangle with a bored policeman standing close by. Old Joe and his strange young assistant sat reading the morning papers and passing a bag of mint humbugs between themselves. They were playing the driver and attendant. The other two police officers sat on their big motorcycles and waited for the off. There were another two CID officers sitting in a big black car behind. The authorities were taking no chances with the prisoner if he needed hospital treatment.
Dudley [head bowed and
walking slowly] was led from his cell and through the numerous locked gates and
doors into the quadrangle by two large MI5 agents who were accompanied by a
single CID inspector. All the officers were armed and unusually for the times,
didn’t hide the fact. ‘Doctor’ Jasper Montgomery- Flays [Jericho] and his
nurse [Jackie] stood at the rear of the ambulance and Dudley was helped into
the back with the doctor and nurse. He certainly didn’t look well, and Jackie
quickly examined
him on the bed. He was muttering and groaning and openly sweating. Jackie
looked up at Jericho and didn’t smile, she whispered; “Christ sake Jericho! He
really is ill. He’s pulse is racing, and I suspect his blood pressure is
through the roof.”
They both sat on the opposite bunk as the ambulance pulled away, escorted by the two motorcycle cops and two police cars behind. Jackie ran her mirror of Dudley who lay groaning on the bed, talking gibberish and occasionally shouting. “My God Jericho, he’s been poisoned! He has minutes before it kills him!”
“Any known antidote?” Jericho said softly wiping his face with his sleeve. Jackie shook her head; “It’s from South America, used by a couple of Amazon Forest tribes and it’s quite deadly. The antidote is…” She was interrupted by Dudley dying and she slowly closed his eyes and the pair sat on the bunk and stared at the body. Finally, Jackie said “Poor bastard. He died out of his ordained time and his soul is lost now.” No collector had appeared which was expected so Jericho contacted Operations and was told that Dudley’s shocking and unexpected death was now assigned to him and Team 74. “Well, that’s put the bloody cat amongst the pigeons.” Jericho muttered and rubbed his chin: deep in thought. He leaned back and sighed; “So, it’s now plan B.” Jackie covered Dudley’s body with a blanket and didn’t smile: “So we actually have a bloody Plan B then?”
Jericho shrugged his shoulders; “Well, we do now!” and did manage a smile which made Jackie just sigh. Jericho gestured to the dead body: “Check to see if our late friend there has any puncture marks on his hands or arms.” She nodded and pulled back the blanket. She found what Jericho was looking for almost immediately. A small puncture mark on the back of Dudley’s right hand. They both looked at each other and Jackie said softly; “According to my mirror that poison kills an adult in just five to ten minutes, which means Dudley had to jabbed while being escorted to the ambulance. It had to either the MI5 officers or the CID inspector. They were the only ones who had close physical contact with him; so close, they could prick him.” Jericho nodded at that, jumped up and leaned through to Old Joe driving. “Change of plans slightly Joe. Please stop along the Embankment in a couple of minutes and disappear. Thanks for your help.” Jericho tapped his shoulder and returned to Jackie who was checking her mirror. “There are no major changes to the timeline with Dudley’s death or rather his sudden strange disappearance; what minor changes there are being acceptable apparently.” She said quietly and stared at the late Dudley Crankshaw; his passing had affected little and that made her sad.
Jericho stood in the swaying ambulance and didn’t smile; “Right, when Joe pulls over, we jump back to just before the King rides back from Trooping the colour on July 16th and prevent the daft old bugger from actually pulling the trigger. I know – according to regulations – that we shouldn’t directly interfere at the scene, but we have no choice. I’ll get the Senior Time Controller to stop time here and now. But that will only last for about half an hour, so we’ll have to move quick and act fast back at the actual shooting. I’ll have to explain things to Angel Margret but there’s now no other way to change this bloody mess.” Jackie just nodded and watched as Jericho pulled out his mirror as the ambulance came to a stop on the Embankment. “Let’s go!” he shouted, and everyone vanished as time came to a stop for living humans.
Jericho and Jackie walked quickly down the thickly thronged pavement watching the crowds carefully. She gripped his arm and gestured to the big black car parked at the top of The Mall; “There’s Chris Newbury with his boss and that mystery man.” Jericho stared at the car and nodded; “Lord bloody Tobin I believe, he’s a member of the Priests of Chronos and that doesn’t surprise me. They may not be followers of the Dark Prince, but they certainly like to interfere with our Bosses plans when they can.”
Jericho discretely checked his mirror; “The King’s on his way back. We need to step up a gear.” Jackie suddenly stopped and whispered; “Over there, a man in a shabby brown suit but it’s not Dudley!” Jericho lowered his mirror; “That’s George Andrew McMahon, who was the man who originally waved the gun about as a protest. Come on, Dudley must be here somewhere.” They were now looking with some haste and concern for Dudley and Jericho spotted him standing beneath a tree and talking to a woman. “I assume that’s the mysterious Elizabeth Wallace.”
Jackie pushed her mirror back into her pocket; “Human Records identify her as Grace Harris, born in 2010,and a missing soul from the current timeline. My mirror tells me that she has a time device on her.”
“Damn, we can’t stop time here since the Time Controller is already holding it for us elsewhere. Well, there’s only one thing to do.” Jericho spoke quickly and operated his mirror to the utter surprise and shock of Jackie. Dudley and the woman collapsed on the pavement; Jericho had used his mirror to stun the pair. He and Jackie rushed over and pretended to help. Jackie being dressed as a nurse certainly helped. They propped the pair up against the tree and Jericho quickly removed Dudley’s old pistol while she used her mirror to close down the time portal of the woman, which was contained in an Egyptian amulet in her handbag.
Jericho walked the still confused and shocked Dudley away and through the crowd who had now lost interest in the incident; the King was approaching.
Jackie helped Grace up and
almost frogmarched her to the rear of a parked-up bus. No-one noticed the women
disappear; everyone was cheering and waving at the new King as he passed by.
Jericho and Dudley watched as the man in the shabby brown suit waved his old
pistol at the King and had it knocked from his hand by a woman who was shouting
for a constable. Several of the crowd grabbed the man as police officers came
running over.
Jericho grunted with
satisfaction; “Come on Dudley, let’s get you home. I won’t tell you how close
you came to losing everything and I mean everything.” Gripping Dudley’s arm,
Jericho walked him the rear of the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade tent set up in
Green Park, and operated his mirror. The pair were gone, their going witnessed
by a five-year-old boy who happily clapped his appreciation of the ‘trick’ which
mystified his parents, who wondered why he was clapping and smiling, shouting
about the ‘magicians’ who vanished. The Senior Time Controller had restarted
time and the original timeline now rolled on.
King Edward VIII would now
abdicate that year [1936] and his brother ‘Bertie’ would become King George VI.
Bertie’s daughter would in turn become Queen Elizabeth II in 1952. The man in
the shabby brown suit would almost be forgotten; just a footnote in history.
The team met up at the
lighthouse and enjoyed a well-earned dinner together. Alex was sprawled on the
big sofa, eating grapes. She offered one to Mr. Parker who sniffed it and quickly
wandered off in disgust. Owen peered over the top of his mirror; “You look like
some Roman tart at an orgy. I’ve just done the follow up on the mission to
London and all is sweet. I checked out those MI5 officers and found they did
indeed have an assassin who did the dirty work – one of a group of five licensed
to kill on behalf of the British government apparently – and the best one was a
certain Rupert Coalman who is credited with no less than nine murders for the
government until he was killed on active service in 1941. His nickname was ‘The
destroyer’ or TD….” He stopped talking and Alex sat up, placing the bunch of
grapes down. “So, you mean that Tom Devon was just a Prison Officer and not
some deranged state paid killer?”
Owen shrugged his
shoulders; “It appears so. We got that one wrong. It was just co-incidence that
Tom and his prison service friends were at the same music hall show that Mr. Newbury
attended.” Alex didn't smile, "But his face betrayed he was lying, I could
see it, he wasn't there with friends from prison....." Owen, chuckling, interrupted
her with a smile, "Yeah, they were there with a couple of streetwalkers
[prostitutes] and he obviously lied because he didn't want to lose you! Not the
sort of thing you tell a new 'girlfriend' is it?" Alex sat back and didn’t
smile; “No, it's certainly not, I suppose. We got that one
wrong, didn’t we.”
Owen just
chuckled and grabbed some grapes, "But it turned out alright in the end I
suppose." Alex had to smile at that and now wondered what had happened to
young Tom. Owen flopped onto the sofa and popped a grape in his mouth. He didn’t
smile; “Pity about young Tom, he just missed being picked up at Dunkirk [an
incident in the Second World War in 1940] and spent a couple of years in a
German prisoner of war camp before dying of bleeding dysentery in 1942. Not
quite a war hero’s end was it?”
Alex just nodded; a little sad at the terrible ending of the young man’s life.
Alexander [Alec] Cornforth the caretaker at the 'safe house' was killed during the German bombing of 1940 and the house destroyed. His soul was collected and processed. An office block now covers the small street the house stood in. Strangely enough, his collection of 'interesting films' protected in their metal cannisters, survived the bombing and was found by a certain George Douglas [a fireman] who kept them, not realising their incredible historical value! They would surface again in 2027 in London, causing yet another Temporal Detectives investigation. But that's another story.......
[1] The stamps Alex bought for £2 in 1936 would now be worth around £1800.00. [2022]
[2] Rudolf Hess, the Deputy Fuehrer of Nazi Germany, had flown to Scotland in an attempt to forge a peace deal with Britain. After crashing the plane, he was captured and taken to the Queen's House at the Tower, where he was imprisoned for four days before being transferred to a prison for the duration of the War.
[3] Report on the original incident from Wikipedia:
“An apparent attempt to assassinate Edward VIII was foiled on Constitution Hill. As the king's horse passed the crowd while returning to Buckingham Palace from a colours ceremony in Hyde Park, a man raised a revolver. A woman grabbed the man's arm and shouted, alerting a constable who knocked the weapon from his hand. The man, identified as George Andrew McMahon, told police he had no intention of harming the king and was only making a protest. Adolf Hitler sent Edward a telegram offering his "heartiest congratulations" on his escape.”
[4] Some of Alec the caretakers ‘home movies’ have surfaced on a vintage porn site on the internet in the 2020’s and it’s certainly possible that Alex’s film is among them. But apparently it is only a possibility!"
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