.bmp) |
| Illustration for "ALEXANDRA HAS HER OWN TROUBLES" created by the author. Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen J. Williams. |
"It’s Belfast in the summer of 1972 and the ‘troubles’ are at their heights. British troops patrol the streets and there is real fear on the streets after ‘Bloody Sunday’. Jericho and Team 74 have been sent back to investigate several breeches of the current Human Time – Line; someone has crossed over from 2022 back to the troubled times. Jericho needs – urgently – to find out who’s jumped back and more importantly; why? Alex ends up working as a stripper and meets a hunky Priest who is probably the best equipped priest in Christendom!”
 | ||
Concept date: 1st February 2022 First published: 18th June 2022 Status: COMPLETE & PUBLISHED. Revisions: 2 [last revised April 2022] Version: Final. Published Episode No. 34 Previous episode: "Alexandra attends the Hammer House Halloween party." Next episode: “Alexandra and the Vikings.” Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74 Mission: 2 - 999572 - 6 – 1972
A 'TEMPORAL DETECTIVES' series original story is the version that this 'Alexandra' episode is based upon and NOT a 'Jericho Tibbs' legacy episode.  .bmp) THIS EPISODE CONTAINS STRONG FOUL LANGAUAGE AND GRAPHIC SEXUAL REFERENCES!  THIS EPISODE MAY CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS:
|
This episode has an average reading time of approximately 60 minutes.
This story can be found in "The adventures of Alexandra: Series 3." which can be obtained from 'Amazon.com' and all good bookshops!
This is the alternative ADULT version of the original story/episode:
"BELFAST '72"
which is published [both in print and online] in "THE TEMPORAL DETECTIVES" series. It will differ from that episode in some respects. Both series' are written by the author: Stephen J. Williams. To visit that website's page for the original version of this episode please click on 'DETECTIVE' icon in the Navigation Bar at the base of this story: IF AVAILABLE.
 |
1.
EAST STREET, WEST BELFAST. Monday
Morning 10th July 1972.
The Cortina pulled up outside a boarded-up hardware shop and Divij switched off the engine. There was – apparently – not a soul in the street. All the residents had moved out some months before when the ‘troubles’ were really bad and now reside in North Belfast. East Street had been a Protestant enclave for years until just last year. Now, no-one wanted to live there anymore; the tolerance and acceptance had disappeared in a wave of violence – Sectarian violence – and the result were streets like this in most areas of the city.
Jericho held up his mirror and nodded towards the empty house opposite the hardware shop. “It’s in there. We’ll check it out and call Special Operations. So, old Doc’s local human agent was right about the stranger in town. He’s one dangerous bastard if he’s prepared to use a device like this, here and now.” Divij nodded and he and Jericho left the car and headed into the old house. Alex and Owen sat in the rear of the car, with Owen checking his mirror constantly. “The bastard has picked the right time for this place; it’s Marching Season and Wednesday is the big one. Can you imagine setting off a device like that here? Does the mad bastard think he can change history by blowing up loads of innocent people?”
Alex shifted in her seat and stared out the window; “For centuries people have been changing things by killing other people en-mass, so what’s the difference here?” she said quietly and dived into her old ‘Gladstone’ bag for a bottle of water; it was only late morning, and the summer day was already hot. “What if he can get his hands on a really big fuck off bomb and take out a large portion of the city? That would change things alright.” Owen grunted, adding; “I think they’ve found it.”
Divij crawled slowly over the bricks and rubble, shining his mirror towards the corner of the sitting room. “There it is.” He said softly and tapped his mirror; “Made in 2022 and it’s quite capable of flattening about four streets including the hall being used by the Paratroopers.” Jericho cussed and checked his mirror; “How long do we have Divij?” he asked quietly. Divij shook his head and didn’t smile; “About twenty minutes apparently.” Jericho put the call into Operations and the pair headed back to the doorway of the derelict house.
They
slowly walked back to the Cortina and Owen pulled open the front passenger door
for Jericho who eased in. Divij sat behind the wheel, reading his mirror. “They
are on their way boss.” He stared back at the derelict house. Owen leaned over
the front seats; “It’s Charlie Parker, he’s inside now.” Everyone turned to the
ruined house and could see the odd sliver of subdued light flash inside.
Jericho read his mirror and looked up; “For fuck sake! An army patrol and they have spotted us. We need to divert their attention away from the house until Charlie finishes.” He quickly hid his mirror away as did the others. Jericho slowly pushed open the car passenger door and eased out with his hands in full view. “Sit tight people, the bloody army is trigger happy after what happened in January.” [Jericho is referring to ‘Bloody Sunday’ which occurred on 30th January this year when British troops opened fire on a crowd of people in the Bogside, killing 13 and injuring 14 with one of the injured dying later].
The corporal had his SLR pointing directly at him whilst the other two soldiers moved slowly to the side of the car and pointed their rifles in. Alex managed a big smile and said through the open window; “Hello boys, take it easy, we’re friends.”
Jericho stood speaking to the young corporal who lowered his rifle and shouted to the fourth member of the patrol who crouched in a nearby doorway; rifle at the ready. “Call it in Lofty. They say their from Section 7 under Colonel Robbins.” The young man pulled the walkie-talkie from his shoulder and put the call in. They didn’t wait long for an answer and the radio man chuckled. “Cathy on comm’s says if it’s bleeding Captain Tibbs and his little gang of cutthroats; they’re cleared to eat bloody dinner with her majesty!”
Jericho discretely held up his little black plastic identity card and the corporal stared at it. A fucking captain in Military Intelligence and more importantly [or impressively] an officer in Section 7. They were all known to be mad bastards who would shoot your toes off for not standing up for the fucking national Anthem. Even the Irish Brigades liked to steer clear of them; they knew the Bastards didn’t play by any rules and were fucking dangerous. Even the most fanatical Irish Republican had a grudging respect for members of Section 7. Yes, there fanatics on both sides.
The corporal lowered his rifle and smiled; “I won’t ask what you’re doing around here sir because I know I won’t get a bloody answer. But I’d love to know why a street of abandoned houses has attracted members of Section 7. The occupants were all prody’s [Protestant] and had to be moved out. This is a left footers area [Catholic area].” Jericho chuckled; “Well, your right about that corporal; us not saying, I mean.” The four young soldiers quickly forgot all about why a team from Section 7 was here; Alex had eased from the rear of the Cortina and stood by the door. She was wearing a mini-skirt and tight jumper which was fashionable for this time and place. The four men’s interest was now centered on her: totally. Jericho chuckled again as he leaned on the car; Alex was some bloody good diversion where men were concerned.
The radio man joined his colleagues and stared at Alex but spoke to the corporal; “Corp, how the fuck can I join Section 7?” he asked with a big smile. The corporal grinned and gestured up the street. “Come on boys, the ‘pig’ will meet us outside the old pub in ten minutes, then it’s back for grub.” [A ‘pig’ was slang for an armoured personnel carrier] The little patrol moved off and Jericho slipped back into the car and checked his mirror. Operations Specialist Charlie Parker had removed the bomb and transported it back to 2022 where it would be disposed of.
Jericho sighed; “We were bloody lucky with this one. Why the hell did our mysterious time-traveler want to flatten the hall? He would have probably killed a dozen Para’s or so but that wouldn’t have changed the British occupation of the Catholic areas. Maybe it’s a warning of things to come. The bastard clearly will play dangerously in whatever he’s up to.” He pushed his mirror back into his jacket pocket as Alex eased back into her seat and closed the car door. “What now Jericho?” she asked quietly and received a loud tut-tut from their temporary new sergeant; Divij Singh who gave her a dirty look but said nothing. He had already made his presence felt in the team by announcing that he should be called ‘Sergeant’ when not on an actual operation and the Inspector should never be called by his first name. Always Inspector or Sir. That hadn’t exactly endeared him to Alex or Owen.
Temporal Detective Sergeant Divij Singh had – temporarily – replaced Wilson Franklyn until a permanent sergeant was appointed by Angel Margret to Team 74. Wilson was now an Acting Inspector on Team 37, standing in for their regular Inspector who had been given a special assignment by Operations. Wilson would eventually get his own team and the rumour was that Team would be number 22, who specialized in time breeches that concerned African history. His departure and replacement by Divij had not gone down well with Alex and Owen and they showed it.
What Jericho thought of the appointment wasn’t known. But any sergeant on his team had to be good and Alex and Owen appreciated that fact. But Divij had rubbed both up the wrong way and that wasn’t a good start!
Divij started the car and Jericho told him to return to base – a fortified hotel near Victoria Square – and they would put together what facts they had so far. “Do you think they will have any lunch left? My guts think my throat’s been cut.” Owen moaned and both Jericho and Alex just sighed. Divij simply ignored him and turned the wheel; that’s when the first bullet passed through his driver’s window and embedded in the side of Jericho’s seat. The second bullet hit the rear offside tyre and flattened it. The third bullet shattered the rear windscreen, but the team was already crashing through the door of the derelict hardware store that sat next to them. Divij and blown the boarded-up door off with a single pulse from his mirror. They lay on the floor and could hear the patrol returning fire.
“Some fucker knows we’re here.” Was all Owen said as he read his mirror and grunted, adding; “Someone is using an AK47, so I guess it’s the Republican’s.” They crawled towards the broken door and stared down the street; the army patrol was behind a brick wall firing sporadically. That’s when they heard the corporal shouting and cussing; Big Geordie had been hit and was bleeding to death and choking. Straight through the throat apparently. Alex was gone in a second, only stopping to grab her bag from the shot-up Cortina. Owen just smiled; “Well, no bloke in his right mind is going to shoot a pair of legs like that.”
“For fuck’s sake!” was all Jericho said and the team followed, crouching low and using front garden walls as cover. They found the patrol in the front garden of a boarded-up house with Alex working on the twitching soldier. She skilfully inserted a small tube into his lower neck. She was performing a tracheotomy which consisted of making an incision on the front of Big Geordies neck, just below his Adam's apple and opened a direct airway into the trachea. She also managed to stop the bleeding and bound up the wound with battlefield dressings handed to her by the very concerned corporal. Lofty the radio man was calling for an ambulance and assistance.
Jericho knelt by her and assisted with the bandages. He didn’t smile but whispered that he wasn’t happy. If Big Geordie was supposed to have been killed this bright sunny morning, then her actions may have changed the Timeline. Alex finished her work and leaned forward; “So another bleeding interview with the Angel.” Was all she whispered back which made Jericho smile and shake his head. Divij wasn’t impressed and would say so later. Alex would ignore him and that certainly wouldn’t help their working relationship to grow.
The abandoned street was soon filled with army vehicles and soldiers. Big Geordie was rushed away in an ambulance escorted by two armoured Land rovers and a RUC car. The patrol pulled Alex to one side and thanked her for saving Big Geordies life and that the drinks were on them. The young Captain in charge of the rescue party spoke quietly with Jericho; he had a quick mind which impressed Jericho. The team from Section 7 definitely had been the target here and he wondered if that would affect their mission – whatever that was; he knew better than even bother to ask – and he would arrange transport back to their HQ. Jericho just patted his arm and smiled, declining his offer. They didn’t really want to be seen getting out of army vehicles anywhere in Belfast, thank you very much. The captain was disappointed; he wanted the opportunity to chat up Alex!
The team waited in the derelict hardware shop until the street was quiet again and Jericho informed Supplies that they had a ‘hot’ pick-up of the shattered Cortina. Old Joe of Supplies was not impressed and said so; “How come bloody Team 74 get through more vehicles than say, ten other teams put together?” Jericho chuckled at that and operated his mirror. They were gone and would appear in an alley just yards from their fortified hotel.
Owen was defending Alex’s actions to Divij who wanted her reprimanded; “What if it was the bloody time-traveller doing the shooting? Then Alex has preserved the timeline from change, so there!” Divij just shrugged his shoulders and muttered they would soon hear from Operations who would decide if she was right or wrong. They walked in the hotel after being checked by the two RUC officers manning the sandbagged doorway. Finding that the restaurant was still open cheered young Owen up and everyone enjoyed Shepherd’s pie and mixed vegetables; except Divij who only ate the vegetables. Despite being dead for almost a hundred and fifty years; he still was a dedicated Vegetarian.
Mrs. Harris seemed unfazed by that revelation and produced excellent vegetarian dishes for the new sergeant. That also annoyed Alex and Owen; he didn’t bother to thank her for all her efforts, and they were further shocked when he disclosed that he was still strictly ‘tea-total’. He strongly disapproved of alcohol and wasn’t happy that the team always had a hipflask of brandy on standby.
“Didn’t bleeding death teach him anything?” Alex whispered to Owen as they watched Divij drinking lemonade with his lunch whilst they finished off a decent bottle of wine. Jericho called the lunch briefing to order, and they went over what they had uncovered so far. Owen had chocolate pudding for desert and told everyone that the two waiters were talking about a car bomb being found in Montgomery Street. Officers from Musgrave Police Station were dealing with it, assisting some bomb disposal lads.
Jericho finished his wine and nodded; “That’s our next port of call. We need to speak to some intelligence officers there. One I know and before you ask; yes, she is a damn descendant of mine.” Everyone stared at him, and Owen asked [it had to be him!] who they were visiting. Jericho placed the empty glass down slowly and almost smiled; “I suppose she would be a great, great, great, great grandniece of mine. She’s actually a direct descendant of my youngest sister; Adele.” Alex leaned over the table and said, “What’s her name?” really interested in this revelation.
Jericho now smiled; “Abigail Hatt. She’s an intelligence officer in MI5, currently seconded to the RUC and I last met her when she was still at Boarding school in England. She’s clever, very clever and knows her way around an investigation when given the chance. But this is the 1970’s and women were given few chances to show what they really could achieve.” Alex smiled broadly and raised her glass; “Now this is one girl I really do wish to meet.” Owen and Jericho laughed at that, but Divij just nodded and finished his plate of vegetables without enthusiasm or comment.
2. THE ATTIC ROOM SESSION.
Alex headed for her room to freshen up and relax a little. The members of ‘Section 7’ had been placed in the attic’s [where the live-in staff occupied rooms] Her room was small but comfortable with a large double bed – which surprised her a little – and a potable black & white TV on the bedside cabinet, next to the phone. She noticed that the curtains were thick and heavy, deliberately so, for any staff who had finished a night shift. She dropped on the bed and kicked off her shoes. But she couldn’t nap, she was restless and lay staring up at the dull ceiling. That’s when there was gentle knock at the door, and she eased from the bed and opened it. She had to smile.
The young captain she had met earlier stood smiling, holding a very decent bottle of brandy in one hand. “Sorry to disturb you but the lads from the patrol you helped out this morning want to give you this as a thank you.” He offered her the bottle which she accepted with a big smile and a quiet ‘thank you’. She was impressed: he was a good-looking young man with an athlete’s body under that uniform. She particularly noticed his big hands as she took the bottle. “Thank the boys for me. I would love a glass now, but I really don’t like to drink alone.” She smiled again.
The captain pulled his other hand from behind his back which contained two brandy glasses. “I hoped you would say that.” Was all he said, and the pair laughed together as she gestured him in.
The big bed probably hadn’t seen such action for some time. It creaked and groaned in protest at the very un-military, and passionate, manoeuvres that were taking place on it. Alex was on her back, pushed against some pillows, quite naked with her long legs open and pulled a little back. The captain was between them – equally naked – with his head buried in her crotch and his incredible tongue and lips feasting on her moist and open vagina. He also buried a few fingers in there and they were just as skilled and probing. Alex shook her head and gasped a couple of times, the young man certainly knew how to please a woman down there. She ran a hand over his head and pushed a couple of fingers through his short dark hair. Her other hand squeezed a big tit – especially her rock-hard nipple – and her stomach tightened: a little orgasm was already on the way. She groaned loudly and her legs waved about as she spurted for a couple of seconds. “My turn now!” was all she moaned, and they changed position with the captain on his back, stroking her face and hair as she sucked his cock with skill and unrestrained pleasure. It was his turn to groan and cuss a little. He knew she was ready to be mounted and after a few minutes, he was back inside her legs and now right inside her.
In the missionary position he simply ‘fucked her brains out’ like a road hammer on steroids! Alex found that she had to slap a hand over her mouth to stifle the screams, as he drove his cock into her quite relentlessly. They changed to the ‘doggy’ position and the hard fucking continued unabated. He was right over her, his hands clutching the vibrating headboard, slapping his thighs against her quivering bottom as he drove his hard cock deep inside her. A bigger orgasm overwhelmed her, and she cussed loudly and shook as she spurted, causing a small puddle on the sheets. He simply didn’t stop and now she was face down on the pillows, groaning, as he rammed her with some passion and effort. The captain gripped her waist and said between gritted teeth; “Where the fuck do you want it?”
Alex managed to lift her head and whisper: “Just cum, for fuck sake cum….” Before she cussed and felt him empty his load inside of her. They collapsed together on the bed, both sweating and cussing. Alex managed to turn her head and wipe sweat from her face; “Do you know what’s bloody funny?” she asked and the captain – panting – shook his head as his flaccid cock slipped from her soaking cunt. Alex smiled; “We never even opened the bloody bottle!” They both now lay together laughing softly.
He dressed and slipped away with Alex sprawled across the bed, her head resting on the pillows, and she fell asleep with a little smile on her face. It was later, when she was in the shower, that she realised that she didn’t even know his name! But she slipped the bottle into her ‘Gladstone’ bag, knowing that Jericho and Owen would certainly appreciate it. She had certainly appreciated it's bearers talent!
3. MUSGRAVE POLICE STATION, BELFAST. Monday afternoon 10th July 1972.
That
late afternoon the team assembled outside the hotel and picked up their new car
from old Joe. Owen was impressed and Alex loved the leg room in the rear of the
Ford Zephyr IV. Divij just nodded and said thanks as he accepted the keys. He
didn’t look impressed, and Alex volunteered to drive. He just stared at her and
opened the driver’s door and slipped in. She and Owen exchanged a glance which
didn’t go unnoticed by Jericho who sighed and jumped into the front passenger
seat. They pulled away with Owen moaning
about his gun and holster under his jacket. The team was now carrying official
MI5 weapons as part of their cover; it was expected they would be armed by any Officials
they met. Alex kept her Browning 9mm pistol in her handbag with some spare
rounds. She had given it the nickname ‘Tess’ which made Jericho chuckle.
They encountered no less than three roadblocks before they reached the heavily fortified police station and Alex noticed that all the RUC women officers wore skirts and carried no weapons. They searched women and children mostly or operated radios. She asked Jericho about that. He shrugged his shoulders; “It appears that it was some kind of agreement between the warring parties here that the female officers are clearly shown to be female by wearing a skirt. They are known not to carry firearms, so they are no threat to armed members of either of the paramilitaries. I think all sides have actually agreed that killing young women would produce some real bad publicity for their cause. So, the woman officers are unarmed and wear skirts so that no-one mistakes them for men. It changes in the 1990’s with all the equality stuff and women officers are armed and take their chances like their male colleagues. You have a weapon because you are acting as a MI5 agent; woman or not, they were always armed.”
They passed through the last checkpoint and were directed to a parking space at the rear. The RUC officer with the mirror on a long pole checking underneath the car, spent most of his time staring into the back seat at Alex’s short skirt and long legs. She wasn’t impressed; “I don’t know why he didn’t just open the flipping door and look up my skirt.” She muttered as Divij parked up the car. He did seem happy with the vehicle, though he stated that the thing drifted on corners and was very underpowered. They were escorted by a female RUC officer to a small briefing room and Alex was disappointed that she couldn’t have a chat with her. The little drab room was windowless with just a metal table and very uncomfortable chairs. Someone had bothered to decorate it with posters from Irish seaside towns and a picture of the Queen with the Duke of Edinburgh. They sat for a few minutes in quiet conversation about the hotel lunch and then the door opened.
The big man squeezed through and smiled broadly, introducing himself as ‘Roger Redman’ and his colleague who followed behind, was ‘Gabby Hatty’. Alex and Owen both stared at her and then each other; they wanted to laugh but restrained it. She was a female version of Jericho and could easily be mistaken not only as his sister, but his twin sister! Little wonder he told them about her in advance of the meeting. Everyone sat at the table and Gabby handed her big colleague a brown paper file and he opened it, handing around a sheet of paper to each person present. Again, Alex and Owen had to restrain from laughter when the big man placed a small monocle onto his left eye. He coughed and tapped his piece of paper.
“The fucker you’re looking at is Ashling O’Connor, well that’s the name he uses. He appeared on scene some months ago and has brought his way into the provisional IRA ranks with guns and explosives. Says he’s a Yank who wants Ireland free from British rule and has also provided some serious money to finance operations. The local West Belfast Brigade thinks the sun shines out of his arse, but here’s the punch; our American Allies in the CIA, FBI and NSA have nothing on him, and I mean absolutely nothing. I repeat nothing, they actually said it was like he dropped from the sky or something.” The big man fumbled in his jacket pocket and wiped his face with a dull white hankie. Alex knew everyone was thinking the same; this could be our time-traveller.
“We had good strong Intel that this fucker was planning something big for the 12th of July parades in the city. A couple of good bomb men had disappeared off the radar; even their families have no idea where they were. But guess who they were last seen with?” Roger tapped the sheet of paper which carried the mysterious ‘Ashling O’Connor’s’ photograph – taken by an undercover police surveillance operation - leaving a west Belfast pub notorious for its links to the IRA. It was also famous for its almost naked barmaids and expensive brothel in the rooms above. Only Alex noticed Owen running his mirror over the photograph under the table. The smile on his face told her that he had identified ‘Ashling’.
Roger continued; “All parades have been cancelled this year and so O’Connor must have changed his plan. The whispers from our informants within the West Belfast Brigade are there’s a massive terror bomb campaign in the offering; most of the material and money supplied by O’Connor. Since the talks between the IRA leaders, including Martin McGuinness and Gerry Adams, broke down almost immediately with William Whitelaw [then Secretary of State for Northern Ireland] we believe this attack will signal an open revolt. 1916* all over again according to the Catholic’s, though I suspect their hoping for a better result.”
“We need to discover what that plan is and thwart it by any means necessary. The assistance of Section 7 has been agreed between departments and frankly, we’re glad to have you on board.” Gabby smiled at Alex and Alex shook her head; she had the same small smile that Jericho always used. “Our co-operation can be relied upon. We need to find this ‘O’Connor’ for other reasons of serious National Security, both here and across the pond. We will apprehend or remove him from here, whatever is necessary we will do.” Jericho didn’t smile and both Roger and Gabby knew that Section 7 would quite happily kill O’Connor if they couldn’t capture him. Such was the Section’s reputation.
Gabby leaned back and held up the paper; “What we do know about our mister Ashling O’Connor is that he likes beautiful women and Irish whisky. He frequents a pub well known for its Republican links; ‘The Republican’ in West Belfast which is quite notorious for being an up market knocking shop. But we have had a little piece of luck; one of the barmaids has left, she caught a flight to California where she’s going to carve out a new career in porn films. The pub manager – a certain Graham Borden – is looking for a replacement and he only employ’s very pretty girls with long legs and big breasts. The pay is exceptional for this area, so he won’t be short of applicants. A girl can earn the same money working three shifts at the pub as for working a six-day week in a local factory. We need to get someone in there and this is the best opportunity to do so; or I should say, probably the only opportunity.”
Roger agreed with his colleague and added; “We need a real beauty who will eclipse the other girls and get a position there for certain.” Both he and Gabby smiled at Alex who sat back in her seat and didn’t smile. Jericho patted her arm and chuckled; “My colleague will get that job whatever the opposition has to offer. She’s very good at convincing men to give her what she wants.” Owen grinned at that and Roger relaxed a little and ruefully smiled, popping out his monocle. “I think we can’t argue with that statement Captain Tibbs.”
Gabby rummaged in her big handbag and pushed a newspaper clipping towards Alex; “That’s the ad that appeared yesterday for the job. We can fix you up with an address in the city that would be helpful; a women’s hostel in West Belfast that’s known to be sympathetic to the republican cause.” Alex picked up the cutting and nodded; “I’ll be a young woman from down south, looking for a well-paid job and I don’t like the English too much.” Alex shocked and surprised the pair because she spoke in Irish Gaelic with a perfect soft southern accent. Gabby – absolutely impressed – sat back and muttered; “I think our Alex will have no trouble with this assignment.” Roger nodded his agreement and added; “As long as you don’t mind parading around in stockings and suspenders and not much else apart from knickers and a white apron.” He almost licked his lips at the thought of Alex dressed up in the pub’s ‘Uniform’ and really regretted that he could never visit the pub without getting his brains blown out.
The meeting broke up and the team returned to their car and sat watching police, soldiers and civilians passing in and out of the very busy station. Jericho turned to Owen; “What have we got on this Ashling O’Connor or whatever his name is?” Owen didn’t smile; “He’s real name is Cillian Rafferty and his American by birth, born in Chicago in 1994 and his soul is missing from the current timeline. Temporal Intelligence has flagged his file with a note saying that he could have access to a time device! They really are on the ball, aren’t they? But this part really concerns us; he served in the US Marine Corps as a specialist in bloody explosives!”
Divij grunted and gripped the wheel; “Ex-Marine and the CIA, FBI and NSA didn’t have anything on him. But little wonder since he wasn’t even born yet!”
Jericho nodded; “I think their American colleagues are not much use on this one. So, it’s down to us people. Let’s set up Alex’s new identity and get her booked into that hostel and make contact with that Borden fellow. I won’t have her operate on her own for this one, so she can be accompanied by her young sister from Dublin. Two girls together arriving in the city from Dublin makes good sense and good cover.” He smiled broadly at Owen; “Time to introduce our Jackie to her new sergeant.” They all laughed at the puzzled look on Divij’s face. He started the car, and they pulled away heading for the exit gateway.
Jericho stared out the window and said softly; “O’Connor or bloody Rafferty would have known that the big parades had been cancelled coming from 2022, so his plan – whatever that is – has to be targeted at something else and I think it could be ‘Bloody Friday’. I suspect that that the bomb in East Street would have been a sample to his new friends of what was on offer. We fucked that up for him, but he can cover that by saying the British patrol found it by chance. So, he’s still out there and in the game.”
Owen lowered his mirror; “I’ve just read up about ‘Bloody Friday’ and what took place on Friday 21st July 1972. At least twenty bombs exploded in the space of eighty minutes, most within a half hour period. They killed nine people and injured a hundred and fifty more. The provisional IRA claimed responsibility for the car bombs.”
Jericho sighed; “I wonder how much Rafferty was involved in that bloody deed.” Divij didn’t smile; “I hope he wasn’t because it’s part of the current timeline now and we can’t change that without causing real problems further down the line.” Sadly, Jericho nodded his agreement at that. This mission could turn into a real bastard quite easily he thought.
*Note: 1916 was the year of the ‘Easter Uprising’ in Dublin which was still part of the British Empire at the time. It failed with several leaders of the revolt being executed by firing squad.
4. THE HOSTEL, LAKEGLEN AVENUE, WEST BELFAST. Afternoon of Tuesday 11th July 1972.
suitcase on the foot of a
bed and smiled; “Thank you sister. We’ll be fine and we both have job
interviews this afternoon, so hopefully, we won’t be a burden on you for too
long.” The nun just nodded and stared again at the girl’s miniskirts. She hoped
the pair would change into something more appropriate for Mass or Father O’Neil
could get himself in trouble again. She closed the door behind her and walked
slowly back to her small office, looking forward to her morning drop of whisky
with her tea.
Alex said she wouldn’t,
and Borden told Elsie that she would be working the ‘Michael Collin’s’ room
tonight; there was a big poker game on and to make sure she washed her tits and
crotch. Elsie just nodded and slowly closed the door, saying ‘good luck’ to Alex
and chuckling to herself. Borden gestured up a small staircase and heaved himself
up the stairs, with Alex behind. There was a single door at the top and Borden
shuffled through his keys and held up on Yale key.
6. THE FIRST KILLING.
‘THE REPUBLICAN’ Public House, WEST BELFAST.
Still the Afternoon of Tuesday 11th July 1972.
Alex carefully placed her bag down and stared at the little wooden crucifix above the big metal bed. She had already planned how to get out of this little situation and Mister Graham Borden wouldn’t be happy about that. He sat on the bed, which actually groaned under his weight and pulled down his trousers; his disgusting underpants matched his vest. He smiled broadly as Alex pulled off her blouse; “Fucking hell girl, those tits are real beauties. I’m going to suck them to you squeal and then I’m going to fuck you up the arse for starters. There’s plenty of jelly in the top drawer so use as much as you like.” He wiped his sweaty face with both hands, chuckling to himself. Alex unzipped her short skirt and allowed it to drop on the rough carpet. Graham Borden now really grinned at the sight of sheer black stockings, suspender belt and tiny matching panties. He nodded his approval; “I like it shaved. Like a little girl.” That comment made Alex queasy, and she carefully picked up her blouse and skirt and placed them on the chair by the door.
He tugged down his dirty underpants revealing his totally inadequate erection. He gripped it with one hand and gestured to her with the other. “Ditch the bra darling; I’ll play with your tits while you suck my cock. Then I’ll poke your bum hole to start with, that’s a good girl.” Alex eased off her bra and Graham took a deep breath, muttering “Fucking magnificent” a couple of times.
Alex reached for her handbag, but never picked it up because the door flew open and two young men sauntered in. The tall one took the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it on the carpet, crushing it out with his boot. “Well, Graham, I see you are auditioning some new talent for your cesspit.” He turned to Alex and smiled; “Straight off the farm are you darling?” Alex backed away, covering her breasts with both hands. The other man chuckled and smiled at Graham; “Sorry about this you fat bastard, but that’s one little arse you won’t be exploring anytime soon.” From his beneath his jacket his pulled a long-nosed pistol which appeared to have a bolt action and pulled the bolt back. [The strange looking gun was a ‘Welrod’ suppressed pistol from the Second World War era. It was British in make and almost silent in close quarters].
Graham Borden slowly eased up from the bed; visibly shaking. “For fuck’s sake you can’t knock me off, the retaliations would be bad, you know that…. the boys would not be happy; Mr. O’Connell himself protects this place….” He was babbling and gripping his now flaccid cock with both hands. The man with the gun just smiled; “We know that fucker protects this shithole, Graham. But he won’t mind us taking out a thieving bastard who likes to whisper little things to British Intelligence for the right amount of money. Goodbye Graham, I’ll certainly see you in hell I expect.”
He fired the almost silent pistol – Alex only heard a dull snapping noise – and the big sweaty man fell backwards, bounced off the side of the bed and lay face up on the floor. Alex stared at the body; the bullet had been neatly placed into the centre of his forehead and the back of his skull had exploded outwards covering the bed and floor with blood, pieces of bone and brains.
The
young man carefully reloaded his pistol as the tall man took hold of Alex’s arm
and smiled; “Didn’t bat an eyelid did you girl. A man has his brains blown out
in front of you and you don’t scream or breakdown or even flinch. Now I wonder where
you received that kind of training.” Alex just folded her arms and stared at the
dead man.
The gunman pushed the long snout of the pistol against Alex’s forehead; “I really regret doing this darling, but I think your career with British Intelligence is about to come to a sad end.” He pulled the bolt back, but the other man placed his hand on his; “Tut, tut Murphy my boy. I think Mr. Smith would like to have a little chat with this lady and you know just how much he likes to question young women. He made the last one last for almost four hours before dropping dead with fear and pain. Oh, lots of pain as Mr. Smith knows how to apply pain.” They both chuckled and the man lowered the gun.
Alex actually smiled at them and said softly; “Sorry, you evil pair of murdering bastards, but I don’t think I’ll pay a visit to Mr. Smith.” Both men exchanged an amused glance and of course, didn’t realise that Jackie was standing in the open doorway behind them, mirror in hand and she used it. They both lay sprawled on the floor, next to the dead man and a puddle of blood that seemed to grow by the minute. They would be out of the game for about twenty minutes; Jackie had her mirror set to stun.
Alex grabbed up her clothes and started to dress as Kathy the collector appeared and stared at the body. “I knew Team 74 was always quick on a case, but I haven’t even called this one in yet!” she said, slowly closing her ‘Soul ledger’.
Alex smiled at her and then realised what she meant; the late Graham Borden had produced no soul! Jackie sighed; “Real name is Colin Groves from Cork City, born in 1976 and was a missing soul. He’s out of his ordained time period and he’s bloody soul is now lost to the darkness which is quite a bugger; we can’t question him now.”
Kathy the collector said her goodbyes and departed; the case was now in the hands of Temporal Detectives and her brief involvement was over. With some reluctance Alex went through the discarded trousers of the late Groves or Bordon and pulled a small notebook out. She flicked through the pages which seemed filled with dates, times and large amounts of money. One date stood out because it was in the future: “Sunday 16th July 1972 Aldergrove Airport at 7.35pm. £250. Roland and Sparrow hawk.” Alex read the entry out and Jackie nodded. “That little airport is now called ‘George Best City Airport’ but here and now, it’s just a local airport with flying schools and small airlines operating out of it.”
She checked the two men on the floor with her mirror and grunted; “Thomas Malloy and James Murphy; both IRA men and from this time and place. According to Human Records they were hit men for the West Belfast Brigade of the IRA. They are already facing serious quarantine for previous killings. This killing means the local IRA knew that Borden was a British informant and if that’s true; how come Redman and Hatt didn’t bother to inform us of that very relevant fact?” Alex stepped over the bodies which seemed to fill the small room and headed for the doorway. “Now that Jackie is a bloody good question.” She stopped at the back of the small stairs and kissed Jackie’s cheek; “Thank fuck that Jericho was on his toes and sent you with me.”
Jackie just smiled and folded her arms; “Also, what was the bollocks that Redman and Hatt said about desperately wanting to put someone in here? They already had Borden as a contact.”
Alex nodded; “This mission is beginning to stink.” Arm in arm the girls descended the small staircase to the rear alley at the back of the pub. They made the rear door by the men’s urinals and Jackie suddenly stopped and pointed through the half open door; “A blue Cortina parked at the top of the alley with it’s engine running. Guess who’s behind the bloody wheel?” Alex peered over her shoulder and cussed; “For Christ’s sake it’s Redman! He must be waiting for Malloy and Murphy. This case stinks to high heaven.” Jackie leaned back against the shabby wall and whispered; “No doubt they needed Borden dead before he could hire you and, as a bonus, probably knock you off too if the chance offered itself. “
Alex was about to say something when they heard footsteps coming down the back stairs; fast. They dived in the Gent’s toilets and Jackie kept the door just slightly ajar, mirror in hand.
A
figure flashed past the door, and they heard the outside door slam shut.
Jackie held up her mirror and really didn’t smile; “Abigail Hatt.
She was here too and so I suppose, Redman was waiting for her.” That’s when they heard the noise behind them and turned; a young dark-haired man was washing his hands in the cracked sink. Both girls thought he was exceptionally handsome with dark hair and eyes. He turned and smiled, drying his hands on the roller towel by the window which was covered with chicken wire. “Sorry ladies, but this is the gents. Your nearest Convenience is on the second floor.” He had a soft southern Irish accent and both girls saw the shoulder holster under his smart jacket. Jackie gripped her mirror ready to use it if necessary.
That’s when they could hear screams and shouting from the staircase outside; clearly someone had discovered the body of the late Graham Borden/Colin Groves. The young man sighed and walked to the door, again smiling at the girls; “I would Miss Alex, get your pretty arse out of here. These people won’t call the RUC for this one and a clean-up team will be on its way soon. You really don’t want to be hanging around when the boys turn up.“ He leaned forward and kissed a very surprised Jackie on the lips; “And I would love to see you again my little princess. But I must go, duty calls.” The young man disappeared through the door and could be heard running up the stairs shouting, “What the fuck is going on!”
The stunned girls operated their mirrors and were gone.
7. KING WILLIAM HOTEL, VICTORIA SQUARE, BELFAST. Evening of Tuesday 11th July 1972.
Jericho was sprawled on the bed, reading his mirror with one hand and a glass of decent Irish whisky in the other. Divij sat on a chair by the door, carefully reading the local paper. Jackie and Alex sat the big sofa with their well-earned whiskies.
Finally, Jericho lowered his mirror and sipped his whisky; “So British Intelligence is compromised in this divided city, to the extent that we really can’t trust them too much. I’m sure they [Redman & Hatt] will have a very plausible explanation for what they were doing at the pub while Borden was being killed. Either way, we still need to find O’Connor and discover what his plans are and where his time controlling device is. This period in history is fraught with serious dangers to the current timeline and now we have a rogue time traveller on the loose. Unfortunately, our only lead is still that damn pub, but we can’t use either Alex or Jackie for undercover work there now.”
Jackie looked up and smiled; “Oh yes you can. Those two gorillas only saw Alex, they never saw me.” Alex nodded; “That’s true, they only saw me, and Borden was the only person in the pub that saw us together. So, Jackie is unknown there still, well except the handsome young man in the toilets, I suppose….” Jackie groaned and then remembered he had called Alex by her name. Jericho held up both hands and repeated; “We can’t use either Alex or Jackie for undercover work there now.”
Divij asked about the young man in the toilets with Jackie a little angry at herself for not using her mirror to check him out. Jericho sighed; “We have no idea who he is, but the evidence and facts suggest strongly that he is an IRA man. Other than that, we know sod all about him.”
Alex waved her glass about; “Borden and O’Connell were both time travellers so it would a huge co-incidence if they weren’t working together. So, I doubt if O’Connell will return to the pub now his associate has had his brains blown out by the very people they are working for.” Jericho nodded at that deduction and said quietly; “That would mean our only lead has just vanished. How do we track down O’Connell now? This is a big city and it’s divided with hatred and fear, so few people are willing to answer questions about anyone else. We have seen how the IRA deal with informants, and I suspect the Loyalist paramilitaries use the same tactics.”
Divij lowered his paper and folded back a page and offered it to Jericho. “Maybe this little notice may be of interest.” He said quietly staring again at Jackie who was refilling Alex’s and her glass. He had made his opinion known about men dressing as women, which wasn’t a positive one and that hadn’t impressed Jackie or Alex. Jericho remained silent on the subject; for now.
Jericho took the paper and slowly sat up; “They may be able to recongnise the girls, but not our Owen.” He handed the paper to Jackie who nodded her head. She read out the notice to Alex; “Wanted; Pot boy for the Republican Public House. Must be hardworking and keen. Very good wages for the right applicant, with a single room accommodation supplied free. Call in person and speak with the acting manager Liam Doyle.” Divij didn’t smile; “For that advertisement to appear this evening, it must have been placed before the edition was printed earlier in the afternoon. That means they knew that Borden wouldn’t be around to conduct interviews, they used the name of the acting manager. So, they are quite bold in announcing their murders, but of course, Borden is officially missing since no body was found or recovered by the authorities. He’s probably buried secretly around some farmland about these parts.”
“Shit! Intelligence must have known about the killing; they would monitor all newspapers and note articles about such a notorious Republican stronghold as the pub. They would guess that Borden – their informant – was about to be replaced; with fatal consequences.” Alex muttered and sipped her whisky.
Jericho rubbed his chin; “Maybe Redman & Hatt rushed to the pub after reading that advertisement but arrived too late. Now that is a possibility.” Divij nodded his agreement and stared at Jericho who rubbed his chin; “Maybe Redman & Hatt rushed to the pub after reading that advertisement but arrived too late. Now that is a possibility.” Divij nodded his agreement and stared at his head and dismissed some pretty wild thoughts; he/she made him very uncomfortable, and he would be glad to have the obnoxious [to him] Owen back.
Jericho eased off the bed and placed his empty glass down on the side cabinet. “Let’s get some dinner. The restaurant has a good reputation for its evening meals.” Jackie smiled; “Now that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” She said with quite a smile.
They sat at the table and enjoyed their meal in the relatively quiet dining room. The only staff member – a young waiter – stood at the far end of the room, by the door and Divij noticed that he constantly fiddled with his neat white jacket. He lowered his knife and fork and said to Jackie; “You checked the hotel out, how many people are staying here currently?” Jackie shrugged her shoulders; “About thirty, why?” Divij placed his knife and fork down. “Well, where is everyone? We’re the only the people here.”
Alex slowly nodded her agreement; “The waiter is like a cat on a hot tin roof.” Everyone stared at each other, and Jericho dropped his knife and fork, tossing his napkin onto the table; “I think we best get out of here as soon as possible.” Everyone agreed on that, especially when Jackie pointed out the waiter had disappeared. Jericho operated his mirror’s emergency travel app and they were gone. Back to the lighthouse for a few seconds, then returned to the small alley opposite the hotel. A vagrant, trying to sleep under some newspapers, said nothing about their sudden appearance and turned over. Alex shoved a couple of pound notes into his hat. That’s when they heard the thunderous explosion, and the smoke and dust even reached the ally entrance.
They carefully emerged from the alley to see the front of the hotel was ablaze, with crowds of people running from the scene. Nobody hung about to watch after a bomb went off; they knew both sides in the conflict sometimes planed a second bomb nearby to catch onlookers. Jackie pointed to the remains of a large, sandbagged window, to the left of the big front doors which no longer existed. “That’s where we were sitting. We would have caught the blast fully.” She whispered and really needed a brandy now. Jericho folded his arms; “I think Mr. O’Conner has stopped warning us.” He said simply.
The vagrant now fully awake was standing behind them; the smell betrayed his closeness. He grinned at Alex and Jackie, taking at close look at their legs. He rubbed his dirty beard and coughed; pulling a bottle marked ‘turpentine’ from his disgusting coat pocket and offered it to Alex. “Would you like a drink darling to calm your nerves?” Alex shook her head and politely declined. He repeated his offer to Jackie who also declined. He sighed and took a swig, coughing violently and wiped his mouth. He gestured to the now blazing hotel; “Someone mustn’t like the bloody place or the people inside.” He chuckled at his ‘joke’ and took another swig. He gestured to the girls’ legs; “Now they are lovely, I call them ladders to heaven. I can tell real stockings from pantyhose you know. That’s made my bleeding day, short skirts and stockings; I can die a happy man.” He shuffled back to his ‘bed’ and settled down.
The team walked in silence to their car which was parked down a side street. Jericho was reading his mirror as sirens could be heard, he looked up and almost smiled; “We’ll head to West Belfast where there’s a human agent of Inspector Dawn Daniels. I’m sure he put us up for the night; I don’t want to leave now that the case is warming up.” Jackie suddenly stopped and gestured to her mirror; “I don’t think we should use the car.
There’s
a bomb fixed under the driver’s seat, with a trigger switch connected to the
ignition. Mr. O’Conner was certainly making sure he would get us.”
They quickly backed away and stood in the deserted bus shelter as light rain started to fall with the gathering darkness of the evening. Jericho stared at the tumbling rain and said quietly; “It’s back to the police station and we’ll have words with Redman and Hatt.”
Divij was warning Supplies about the car and was informed that Charlie Parker would deal with it. In the meantime, they were sending a replacement vehicle. Jackie smiled; “I wonder if old Joe will stash a brandy bottle in the glove box?”
Alex grunted. “Probably not, not with the way our luck is running.” She folded her arms about herself against the chill of the night and was really happy when the little van turned into the street with old Joe behind the wheel. He pulled up and stepped out, throwing the keys to Divij, unsmiling; “Team 74 gets through more bloody vehicles on their cases than anyone else. Try not to have this one blown up or get it one shot to pieces.” He muttered and wandered off to check the bomb rigged car and wait for Charlie Parker to arrive.
They jumped in the van and Divij started it without fear that it would explode in his face. They were pulling away as Alex noticed the vagrant standing in the entrance to the alleyway. He raised his bottle to them and for some reason Alex felt something was wrong, but Jackie squeaked with delight as she pulled open the glove box and produced a decent bottle of brandy. “He may be a moaning old sod, but I love him!” she declared. Alex chuckled and looked back; the vagrant was gone. She sat back and then groaned loudly; “For fuck’s sake! Why the hell would an Irish vagrant use the American expression ‘pantyhose’ and not the British term ‘tights? I think Mr. O’Connell has just seriously taken the piss out of us idiots!”
Divij stopped the van, and he reversed back to the alley way; the ‘vagrant’ was gone of course. But propped against the brick wall was a coat stand with the vagrant’s coat, hat, trousers and beard hanging from it. Jericho cussed then had to laugh. “The bastard has been ahead of our every move so far and now he really is taking the piss. You have to admire the bastard for his sense of humour.” They drove in relative silence to Inspector Dawn Daniels’ human agent’s house, passing the brandy bottle about.
Divij as usual declined and concentrated on driving but strangely enough couldn’t get the vision of Jackie’s legs and the occasional little glimpse of her white panties out of his thoughts. He groaned to himself; oh, how I miss my old team!
8. ST. JAMES PAROCHIAL HOUSE, LAKEGLEN AVENUE, WEST BELFAST. Late evening of Tuesday 11th July 1972.
Alex chuckled; “Now you know its women only at the hostel so can we expect you two in drag?” Jackie laughed outright, but Jericho just smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you two, but we’re staying with Father O’Neil at his Parochial house at the rear of the hostel. He’s a friend of Abigail’s and it’s been used as a ‘safe house’ before.” Alex nodded; a little disappointed that Divij wouldn’t be pulling on a dress. But overjoyed at the prospect at staying with the well-endowed father.
Father Frank O’Neil was in his late thirties with already slight greying hair, but certainly would still be regarded as very handsome by most women he met. He had piercing blue eyes and admitted he still played rugby and that really showed. Alex was impressed with his quiet demeanour and pleasant manners, especially when he produced a decent bottle of Irish whisky to welcome his ‘guests’. Her and Jackie kept exchanging a knowing glance as they sat in his sparsely furnished parlour and chatted about anything except the current ‘troubles’. He did make it clear that he couldn’t condone the violence committed by either side in the conflict. Alex wondered just how much Inspector Dawn Daniels’ had told her human agent [Father O’Neil!] about the members of Team 74.
He filled everyone glasses – except Divij who accepted some ginger ale – and insisted upon refilling them as soon as they were emptied. He took a real liking to Jackie [which made Alex almost burst out laughing!] immediately when he discovered that Jackie was a Chess player, and they would play whenever they could during the team’s brief stay at the Parochial House. His dour House-keeper Mrs. Fells provided a decent evening meal and Father Frank provided two very decent bottles of wine. Their meal was interrupted by a guest; Abigale Hatt had turned up and she had some information of great importance to the team. Her and Jericho sat on the sofa and were soon locked together in a quiet conversation.
Father O’Neil insisted that everyone [of the team] stay here incase the hostel had been compromised and that could really endanger their mission. He smiled at Alex and Jackie when Jericho agreed that was a good – and safe – idea. Alex refilled the father’s glass and Father O’Neil smiled broadly at her. She smiled back at him over the rim of her glass and couldn’t wait for the little gathering to break up. Father O’Neil was getting a night visitor this very evening: if she could get to his room when everyone had retired. She wondered if Jackie had the same thoughts.
Abigale explained that Doyle was now manager of the pub and was planning some kind of big party for some leading Republicans which would be ‘Stag’. That would definitely mean strippers and that could be the team’s chance to get back in there. The mysterious O’Connor would be holding some kind of private party at the pub for his colleagues on Saturday night. It appears that he had sanctioned the ‘removal’ of the last manager. Jericho wondered if O’Connor believed that he would betray him for money. The two time travellers had definitely fallen out over something. It also confirmed in Jericho’s mind that O’Connor was a cold, calculating determined man: and fucking dangerous to the current timeline. He would need to speak to Angel Margret and obtain her authority for something drastic: if needed or required. But for now, the ‘stag’ party did please Jericho, who stated that Alex could do the strippers job – suitably disguised – and would let her know about her new career.
This is where he really smiled at Alex; “He wants to hire a stripper for the night. He already has booked a local DJ to provide some music. I think that could be right up your Street and he certainly wouldn’t turn down a stripper that looks like you.” Divij did smile at that, but Alex just moaned; “Playing the bloody tart yet again.” Divij now didn’t smile; “I don’t think playing is the right term for it.” He muttered and meant it.
Alex just ignored his barbed comment and sipped her wine.
Abigale ran a hand through her hair; “It appears that’s he [O’Connor] has made comments about having serious German connections; probably the terrorist gangs that are plaguing West Germany at the moment. He did receive a shipment of stuff in an old crate a few days ago. No explosives apparently, but he hid it away with some care. From our informant it appears that the bloody thing was a parachute! What the hell he wants with one of them is a mystery, unless he plans to jump out of a damn plane.”
The evening broke up quite late, with Jericho saying a long goodbye to Abigale, and everyone was shown their rooms by Mrs. Fell and Alex noted that Father O’Neil’s room was on the top floor; apparently, he had a large bedroom, a small toilet and large bathroom on that floor all to himself. She thanked the housekeeper and dived into her room, quickly changing into black stockings with matching suspenders and panties. She let down her hair and threw her dressing gown around herself and waited. It was just before midnight that the house was silent, and she slipped from the room and up the stairs. She knocked softly on the door and Father O’Neil opened it slowly and smiled, gesturing for her to enter. That’s when she had to smile; he was bloody stark naked and already erect!
She dropped her dressing gown and followed him across the small hallway to the big bedroom, already wet in anticipation. She had to laugh outright when he opened the door; Jackie was already sitting up in the bed; smiling. She had the same thoughts and lay on the bed in her matching black stockings and panties. The two girls kissed and giggled together, then set about the monster when the father sprawled on the bed, back against a pile of pillows. “For what we are about to receive!” was all Alex said, then laughed outright as Jackie held up a tube of ‘KY’ jelly and smiled.
Much to her delight, Alex was first on top of the smiling father. She squatted over him as Jackie slowly and carefully pushed his huge cock into her. She groaned as it slowly disappeared into her wet and well lubricated fanny. For once, she had to stop Jackie before all of it was in. “Now that’s a bloody first.” Jackie said with wide eyes. Alex, also carefully and slowly at first, lowered herself up and down on the monster member. Then she started to fuck Frank with some determination. Jackie was behind her, gripping her big swinging tits and kissing her neck and shoulders with some passion.
Frank loved that and praised God for creating women! He gripped Alex’s by the hips as she rode him with real unbridled lust and passion. Jackie whispered; “There’s no fucking way that will fit in my bum, not even with a bucket of lubricate!” Alex had to agree with her, and Jackie felt bitterly disappointed, but strangely relieved that her bum hole wouldn’t be stretched by the monster. Well, not yet. She could probably manage it after a good session with some dildo’s, but they didn’t have any to hand!
Alex rode the happy priest at speed while Jackie passionately kissed her and massaged those magnificent big tits with some determination. Frank groaned and gripped Alex’s thighs watching wide eyed as his big cock filled her gaping wet cunt. “Oh Lord, give me strength!” he yelled a couple of times as the old bed creaked and rattled under the strain of the happy, overactive threesome. Jackie came from behind and stood before the bouncing Alex who pulled her panties down and set to work on her erection. Now that sight made Frank moan aloud and he thrusted upwards with some force, which Alex loved and could feel, already, that her first orgasm was on the way.
Jackie gripped her shoulders and fucked her willing mouth, pushing her cock almost down Alex’s throat. But Alex really did enjoy ‘deepthroat’ and she held on tight to her heaving bum, encouraging the thrusting. Frank lay back and thanked God and all of his saints for the creation of women and then grinned broadly, men! Something he thought he would never do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, as he remembered that strange young curate, he had under him in 1965: and that was literally under him! Alex now leaned right over him and gripped the old headboard with both hands as Jackie mounted her from behind. She absolutely loved ‘double-penetration’ and now the three all groaned, panted and moaned with delight and passion, sweating openly as the heaving mass of flesh bounced on the old bed.
Alex had one hell [pardon the pun!] of an organism with the priest and Jackie, that she had to pull a hand from the headboard and slap it over her mouth to stop a monster scream from being released. Frank had hold of her tits and was pushing one into his mouth when the ancient bed gave up the ghost. It collapsed with the headboard folding up and it’s two bottom legs collapsing. The three very surprised occupants found themselves on the floor amongst the pillows and sheets; still locked together!
Frank lay quietly on the floor with Alex, now laughing outright, still on top of him and an equally amused Jackie on top of her. There was silence for a few seconds and Jackie started to fuck Alex’s arse again while Frank held Alex’s shoulders and also continued to fuck her. She had another big orgasm and – like the damn bed – collapsed on him. Jackie fucked her for another couple of minutes and came inside her quivering backside. Frank followed a few minutes later and Alex groaned with delight as she felt her fanny being filled with cum. Everyone lay locked together for some minutes before Frank managed to gasp; “Holy mother of God, I need a fucking whisky!”
They all stared at the wrecked bed and Jackie sighed, pulling from Alex and sitting against the mattress, “Father Frank, I really think you should invest some of the Parish funds in a bloody new bed!” Alex sat up on the priest, covered in sweat and stared down at the smile on his face. “Amen to that father. Do you think you’ll be able to rise to the occasion again?” and giggled. Frank nodded; “I think so young Alexandra, unlike the bloody bed!”
Everyone
laughed at that as Jackie pulled the whisky bottle and three glasses from the
sideboard by the window. “I’ll drink to that.” She muttered and handed the glasses
around. Frank stared at the bed and wiped his face; this may take some fucking explaining
to his housekeeper!
Jericho lay sprawled across the very firm bed and stared up at the wooden crucifix on the wall opposite. The little room was quite grim and sparsely furnished. He operated his mirror and spoke with the Duty Controller in Operations and was put through to Angel Margret’s office immediately. He needed her authority just in case this mission turned really sour, to do something against the basic principles of the department: lose souls to the darkness of real death.
9. THE SECOND KILLING. MUSGRAVE POLICE STATION, BELFAST. Wednesday Morning 12th July 1972.
“The fucking place is packed; you can’t get near the bloody canteen and those shitty coffee machines have already run out of everything including bleeding chicken soup which no-one drinks. Well, not if they have a single taste bud left.” Owen slipped back into the van and stared at the chaos around him. The place was filled with Riot police and a couple of armoured cars containing special ‘Snatch’ squads of British troops. “They’re taking no chances today. The parades may have been cancelled but some Loyalists are determined to celebrate their victory at the Battle of the Boyne; hence all this.” Jericho said quietly and gestured to the melee in and outside the Police Station, with his paper.
Alex lowered her mirror; “I’ve been monitoring the local news outlets and there is some trouble already in the Bogside, but nothing the RUC can’t handle; at the moment.” Divij leaned over the steering wheel and sighed; “All this hatred, killing and destruction for what?” Owen didn’t smile; “Human’s exercising their bloody freewill. Little wonder the Dark prince wants to strip us of that privilege.” Jericho muttered something and then started to wind down the passenger window. A uniform RUC inspector was heading their way looking pretty grim faced. He pushed his riot helmet back and leaned on the van door. “I have some bad news for you captain Tibbs. One of your liaison people from the intelligence services was killed this morning. Someone posted a sophisticated letter bomb through his letterbox this morning and blew both his arms and face off. He bled to death before the ambulance arrived. His colleague will be in this morning to brief you on any updates. Sorry about this.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked off, lighting a cigarette and shouting at some RUC officers standing idly around an armoured land rover. They gathered together and then bundled in the vehicle and it pulled away.
Owen lowered his mirror; “The call has just come in for us from Operations Control; Roger John Redman’s soul was collected this morning at eight-thirty, and he has already been judged and jumped. He had no sanctions applied; he was clean.” Everyone looked at each other and Jericho sighed, rubbing a hand over his face: “Well, whatever he was up to, he’s paid for it. At least his soul was recovered, not like bloody Borden/Groves, lost to the darkness of real death.” Owen grunted; “I take it Miss Hatt will tell us all about it, I really don’t think.” Alex leaned back in her seat – she was gasping for a coffee – and stared out the window at a group of local CID officers walking to their unmarked Cortina; laughing and joking like they were about to go on a day trip to the seaside. She sat upright in disbelieve and slapped Owen’s arm; “Take a look at those local CID officers and see who’s walking with them bold as brass!” Owen leaned over her and shook his head; “I don’t bloody believe it! Jericho, that’s the young man in the toilet of the Republican pub who called Alex by her name.”
Alex was already out the van and heading for the group. Owen went to follow but Jericho tapped his arm; “Leave it to Alex for now.” They watched with some amusement as Alex confronted the young man. The other three officers – laughing – waited in the car. After a couple of minutes Alex walked slowly back to the van as the Cortina pulled away and disappeared out the Exit gate. She climbed in the van, looking quite bemused. She almost smiled: “His name is DC John Doyle and according to him, his brother is now manager of that damn pub and that’s why he was there; waiting for his brother to turn up and do a handover with Borden. That never happened of course because Borden had his brains blown out. The CID knows exactly what happened to Borden, yet they are still treating him as a missing person. Apparently, he [DC Doyle] is one of a minority of officers in the RUC; he’s a Catholic.” Alex settled in her seat and checked her mirror.
She smiled at Owen; “Oh and he asked me about my ‘gorgeous dark-haired girlfriend’ who he fancies. I did tell him you were a special lady, but I think he didn’t get the point. He asked me to ask you to go for dinner with him. I said I’d ask.” She actually laughed at that, adding; “Apparently his oldest brother – Gerard – owns a restaurant in the East of the city which has a fantastic reputation and getting a table there is like trying to win the Pools. But he can get a table for four anytime he likes. He wants me to ‘blind date’ his best mate from his rugby team and go to dinner.” Owen grinned; “Decent food and free? I like the sound of that.” Jericho just chuckled; “There are few free lunches my boy.” Divij just snorted and folded his arms muttering; “Special lady my backside.” Owen ignored him and asked Jericho if the pair should go. Jericho rubbed his chin; “Well, it does mean that we will still have a contact at the pub which is our only connection with O’Connor. I’ll think about it.”
A face appeared at the driver’s side window – it was a young clerk from the Clerk’s office of the station – he had a message for Captain Tibbs. Divij wound the window down and the young man gestured to the station; “Captain Tibbs has an urgent phone call on the secure phone in the Chief Inspectors office.” Jericho thanked him and jumped from the van and followed the young man into the station.
Divij turned and smiled – like a snake at rabbits – and spoke directly to Owen. “Since the young man in the toilets is RUC, you could easily get a job at the pub now, since he was the only person to see you there. That tart ‘Elsie’ saw Alex, so she’s out. Not to mention the two hit men. So, I think you could be back in drag soon.” He turned back and gripped the wheel, still smiling. He didn’t see Alex and Owen stick up two fingers, but they both knew he was right about going back to the pub.
Jericho re-joined them and checked his mirror twice before saying anything. “Abigail Hatt has just told me about Redman’s death. The forensic people admit to never seeing such a clever and sophisticated letter bomb before, so I’ll assume it was from O’Connor. I’ve warned her to watch her back in future, really carefully; our O’Connor is a clever and dangerous foe. Her and Redman raced to the pub after a tip off that Borden had been exposed as an informant. They only found out that Borden sometimes supplied information after our little meeting. Apparently his ‘handler’ – a certain Detective Inspector – really didn’t want to share his informant with anyone until he heard that the infamous Section 7 was on the case. We obviously know they arrived too late. But what Abigail can’t figure out is why Liam Doyle has been given the job. Everyone in Belfast knows that his younger brother is a straight copper. He [DC Doyle] must walk a very tight rope to balance the fact he’s a Catholic and a RUC officer. I have to admire the bugger for that alone.”
Divij tapped the steering wheel; “What’s our next move?”
“Abigail
has passed on a lead or rather a strong rumour that’s circulating the streets.
It appears that a rogue element from the West Belfast Brigade have vowed
revenge for ‘Bloody Sunday’ and are plotting something quite horrible, but
spectacular to revenge those deaths. Borden’s last message to his handler was quite
cryptic; “They’re going after a Grand Royal and O’Connor is knocking up the how
do you do.”
“Borden said, ‘they’re going after a Grand Royal and O’Connor is knocking up the how do you do’. That means O’Connor is building a bomb to take out a major member of the current Royal family. Now that could seriously change the timeline.” Owen spoke quietly, already checking his mirror and researching the British Royal Family of the time.
“May 28, 1972, the Death of the Duke of Windsor, the former King Edward VIII, at Bois de Boulogne, Paris and Prince William of Gloucester who, aged 30, died in an air crash while piloting his plane in a competition in August of this year. That’s the current timeline as it stands; so, who’s the Grand Royal that they’re going after?” Owen lowered his mirror as the van was stopped at yet another checkpoint. Jericho laughed gently; “I thought you would have cracked it by now, you’re losing your touch. I think their target is the old Grand Hotel in Royal Avenue. It’s now used as a British Army barracks, and it’s filled with soldiers. Now if that’s not a ‘Grand Royal’ and a top target; I’ll eat my hat.”
Owen shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the grinning Alex; “Well, you can’t win them all.”
Alex
watched from the door of the ‘ladies’ toilet at the men gathering around the
small bar. There were two barmaids in attendance; a thin young girl with very
short hair who didn’t smile much and Jackie. Both were wearing dark mini-skirts,
white blouses with little continental style
black ties. Jackie certainly was drawing attention of the men with her friendly
smile and quick service. Alex sighed and finished dressing in her costume for
this performance. She was dressed as a
naughty French Maid which resurrected a few good and bad memories for her. [See
Series 1 – Episode 3: ‘Alexandra: the reluctant French maid.’]
Jackie came through the door and smiled, handing Alex a glass of brandy. “He’s here; they’re using the small room by the gent’s toilet. There are three of them; O’Connor and two middle aged men. I couldn’t get my mirror near them with all the other men around the bar, but soon as they appear to watch you, I’ll try and identify the other two. Good luck.” She grinned and returned to the bar as the young DJ played ‘I can see clearly now’ by Johnny Nash and announced the stripper; ‘MISS CANDY APPLES’ and hoped that everyone could see clearly because she was a stunner who was ‘maid’ to show herself off. He started to play ‘Hold your head up’ by Argent and Alex appeared on the small stage, next to the DJ, and all the men crowded around including O’Connor and the two men from the small room. She was now ‘strawberry’ blond with plenty of makeup and thanks to contact lenses; Alex was now blue-eyed as well.
Jackie stood behind the bar and discretely operated her mirror from her handbag. The men were already cheering wildly as Alex strutted her stuff on the little stage. Her maids outfit left little to the imagination as it was, but when she tickled the men nearest to her with her duster; they loved it. Jackie disappeared to the toilet and messaged Jericho; O’Conner had his time device on him; her mirror was picking it up. That was good enough for Jericho, who said they would move in as soon as O’Connor was alone. She could hear real cheering and applause from the show outside and smiled; Alex must have revealed her magnificent breasts!
She returned to the bar and found that Alex was now down to her maid’s cap, panties, stockings and heels only. The crowd was loving it and stuffing money in a pint class being handed about by the DJ. Jackie wiped a couple of glasses and asked her colleague what the whip round was for. The girl almost smiled.
“Oh, the DJ is selling
raffle tickets.” Jackie placed the glass down; “What’s being raffled?” she
asked. The girl now smiled; “The tart of course. He [the DJ] will draw the
winning ticket and whoever’s won will shag the tart. She’s going to make a
packet; they are being sold for two pounds each!” Jackie chuckled and then an
idea snapped into her head, and she walked quickly across to the young DJ who
was tearing stubs from his raffle book and placing them in a glass bowl. It
wasn’t hard for Jackie to persuade the young man to go along with her plan. A
crisp ten-pound note, and the promise of sex sealed the deal.
Alex reached the end of her performance by pulling down her panties very slowly and then throwing them to the audience who cheered and applauded widely. She left the stage to great acclaim and the DJ announced the raffle to some very keen and eager men. “To make it fair and above board, one of our lovely barmaids will draw the winning ticket!” he shouted down the mic and not surprisingly it was Jackie that pulled the winning ticket and announced the winning number; twenty-five to the crowd silent in anticipation.
Ashling O’Connor shouted and waved his ticket about; again, not surprisingly he had won! Everyone cheered and applauded as he claimed his prize; Alex had appeared in just a summer mini dress and heels to accompany the ‘prize winner’ to an upstairs room. No one saw Alex smile at Jackie as her and the ‘winner’ departed upstairs to celebrate his good fortune. He wasn’t going to be happy with his prize so Alex thought.
Jackie returned to the bar and poured a couple of pints for two big men with tattoos on both hands, she noticed immediately they both had pistol holsters under their smart and expensive jackets. The biggest of the pair smiled at her and sipped his Guinness, then placed it on the bar. “Darling, you pull a decent pint of the black stuff. What’s you name sweetie?” Jackie thanked him and told him her name. He grinned and smiled broadly; “My old mum was called Jacqueline darling. But you’re not me mum so I can ask you out.” Jackie managed a smile; he had to be twice her age. He told her to have a drink and pulled a bundle of notes from his trousers pocket that could have choked a donkey.
He leaned over the bar and said softly; “The tart taking her clothes off only earned thirty quid for her trip upstairs with a Punter. Now if you’re a good girl, you can make that just by saying you’ll go to the pictures with me.” He pulled three ten-pound notes from the bundle and pushed them into her hand and smiled, adding: “Tomorrow night outside the old Victoria. I’ll take you to see that new film about apes ruling the world, then supper at that little Italian in Whiterock Road.” [The film he is probably talking about is ‘Conquest of the planet of the apes’.]
Jackie just smiled again as he finished his Guinness and walked away. The other barmaid whispered in her ear; “You best keep that date. He’s Roan Mitchells and he’s a West Belfast Brigade officer and a nasty piece of work. He’ll put a bullet in your kneecap for laughing in church.” She went back to serving customers. Jackie just sighed; if they can close the time portal and send O’Connor back to Chicago, then Mr. Mitchell’s will be disappointed like O’Connor will be.
O’Connor pushed the door to the small grim upstairs room and waved Alex in. Jericho and Divij were already on their way up the back stairs. Alex stared about the room, a double bed, a small cabinet and wardrobe. There was one smile chair under the window which had the awful red curtains closed. She turned to find O’Connor behind her; a small semi-automatic revolver pointing straight at her head. He smiled; “I never forget a beautiful face or a stunning body. Now tip the damn contents of your purse onto the floor. NOW!”
Alex slipped her handbag from her shoulder and dropped it upon the floor. He nodded; “Your transvestite friend was clever, but not clever enough and I caught on when I saw him speaking to that useless DJ. Now you and me are going to take a little trip.” With his free hand he pulled a small wooden figurine out and said softly; “This cute little pistol was made in 1938 in Germany. So that’s where we’re going my dear.” He kissed the figure, and the room was empty again; except Alex’s handbag lying on the floor.
Jericho had stopped time and Divij pushed open the door with some force. He bent down and picked up Alex’s handbag and opened it; “Her mirror’s still inside.” He said without emotion and Jericho cussed and checked his mirror. “Breech of the timeline from this very place to….” He sighed and finished; “Berlin, 1938.”
Divij nodded; “Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Bloody jumped back to where Nazi’s are.” Jackie appeared in the doorway looking concerned, guessing that Jericho would have joined Alex because time had stopped downstairs. Jericho didn’t smile; “He’s taken her back to Nazi Germany. Divij, get onto Supplies and tell them it’s a rush Job and give them the details. We should be able to locate her with a body search.” Divij nodded; “As long as her soul is still with her body.” Jackie groaned at those words as Jericho operated his mirror and re-started time. Then the trio disappeared.
11. SOMEWHERE IN BERLING, GERMANY. Afternoon of Friday 3rd May 1938.
Alex laid arms folded on the bed, giving the metal headboard an occasional rattle by pulling at her handcuffs. She had one hand locked to the headboard by a pair of handcuffs and could only sit on the edge of the bed or lay down. The little room was sparsely furnished with just a small curtain less window for light. By the shape of the window Alex guessed she was in an attic room. She stretched her legs and sighed, now bored after being locked up for over an hour. She shouted; “Hey! Is there anybody bloody there?” and received no answer. She slumped back and wondered what the hell her colleagues were doing and shook her head at her own stupidity; of course, O’Connor would have recognized her from the alleyway and the car in the abandoned street.
She sat bolt upright as the door came open and a big man stepped in; he didn’t smile. He was wearing a dark suit with no tie and strangely enough, no shoes, just dark socks. But under his left arm was a pistol holster complete with pistol. “What are you shouting about?” he grunted, and Alex pushed a hand through her hair and smiled; “I need the toilet.” She said quietly and he gestured to the bed; “Under there.” He was clearly a man of few words. Alex peered under the bed at the big, cracked chamber pot and stared back at him. “You must be bloody joking! Now come on!” He turned back to the door muttering; “Take it or leave It.” and was gone. She heard the key turning in the lock and slumped back on the bed.
It was a little later and Alex was dozing, when she could hear the muffled sound of music; well, not music playing but maybe people rehearsing. A woman could be heard singing [in German of course] stopping frequently and shouting [probably at the band] with plenty of swear words thrown in, which made Alex chuckle a little. The door was unlocked, and O’Connor wandered in and stood by the window, arms folded and slightly smiling.
Alex sat up on the bed and shrugged her shoulders; “Now what?”
O’Connor rubbed his chin and did smile fully. “I’ve made arrangements to have
you shipped to some friends of mine in a quiet little town in Saxony. They do
me favours and so I’m giving them you as a thank you. They run a notorious
underground brothel staffed with girls that…. well; let’s just say they were literally
picked up off the streets. Willing or not, they work the brothel now. They’re
giving me controlled parachute landing lessons; most invigorating!” He laughed,
adding; “You’ll make a fortune for them and that means more assistance for me.”
He walked to the door and gave a little wave; “Goodbye my little darling, I hope
you like being fucked because you certainly will be now.” He was gone and Alex
cussed loudly; thinking where the hell are you guys!
The big black staff car turned down the busy street and the young German SS Officer sat smoking in the rear seats, his hand upon the thin battered old leather document case. The captain could be a poster boy for the Nazi’s; he was a big man with short blond hair and striking blue eyes. Woman certainly found him attractive; very attractive. Especially in his smart black uniform which signified that he was ‘Gestapo’. The driver turned the big car into a much quieter side street and stopped outside a small Baker’s shop. The driver – also in uniform – jumped out and opened the rear passenger door, snapping to attention. Captain Kurt Von Hess straightened his jacket and nodded to his chauffer; “About twenty minutes, so get yourself a pastry and read that damn book you love so much.” He smiled and walked to the doorway next to the baker’s window and disappeared inside. The driver sat in the car and picked up the French novel and sat reading.
The guard on the stool outside the prisoner’s door jumped to his feet and the captain offered the big man a cigarette from a gold cigarette case which was gracefully accepted. The pair chatted for a minute or so and the guard unlocked the door and sat back on his stool. Alex eased herself off the bed and stared at the handsome young man who removed his hat and clicked his heels. “Fräulein Alexandra, it is a pleasure to meet you, though I suspect the circumstances could be better. Do you need anything immediately?” she nodded and folded her arms; “Yes, a cup of coffee and a decent clean toilet!” he chuckled and pushed his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small bunch of keys. “One key fits them all. Not very clever but that’s how it is.”
He unlocked her handcuffs and threw them on the bed, sitting on the chair by the window and placing his document case on his lap. “I am Captain Kurt Von Hess of the Gestapo Fräulein Alexandra…may I call you Alex?” he asked and offered her a cigarette which she declined but said it was fine to call her ‘Alex’. He smiled and lit a cigarette and sat back. “So, you are a temporal detective under the command of the infamous Inspector Jericho Tibbs – Yes?” Now that did shock Alex and she stared at the handsome young man and nodded slowly. He tapped his ash on the windowsill and smiled broadly. “Thank you for your honesty, Alex, otherwise we could have spent worthless hours finding that out.” Alex actually shuddered at that comment; he was SS and did that ‘finding out’ mean torture?
He leaned forward, stubbing out the cigarette with his boot on the bare floorboards. Alex had to admit he was a strikingly handsome young man. “Well, I’m sure you will admit you’re your position here in Germany at this time is somewhat precarious. Mr. O’Connor has arranged for you to be taken possession of by some very unpleasant people down in Saxony. And if an officer of the Gestapo says their unpleasant; that tells you everything you need to know about them!” he smiled again. Alex said quietly; “Who are you, Captain Von Hess? I mean who do you really work for?”
He relaxed in the chair; “Old Doc Silas said you were clever and quick witted. He also mentioned you were stunningly beautiful and as usual; old Doc was right.” Alex now really stared at him and whispered; “You’re a human agent for Doc Silas?” he nodded; “Have been since I was a boy. I took over after my father died; he worked for the Doc for some years. Now I really suggest – as our American colleagues would say – let’s get the hell out of here before your new owners turn up to collect their prize!” he jumped to his feet and gestured to the door. They walked past the surly guard who came to attention and down the stairs. On the second floor Alex could hear music and singing from one of the rooms.
“That’s Elsa and her Jazz band playing quite illegal music and her trumpet player is a Blackman. Tut-Tut what would the Fuhrer say about that?” he smiled, and they headed for the street and the driver opened the rear door and they slipped in. They drove through the bustling streets and chatted. Alex really liked this young man; he was funny and charming and she really fancied him out of uniform; particularly this one! What did amaze her was old Doc’s ability to recruit the most unlikely people as agents.
“Our mutual friend [O’Connor] has obtained a parachute landmine from one of the SS units of the Luftwaffe. It is quite capable of destroying a couple of streets and I have no doubt that he will upgrade the device, so that it causes more death and damage. They are employed by being dropped from aircraft, floating down on a parachute until they either hit the ground or explode above the target. I hope this information is of assistance.” The captain ordered the driver to stop at the entrance to the park and he opened the door and gestured to the newsagent stand by the ornate gates. “I think you’ll find a certain Miss Lisa Solomon waiting for you there. Good luck and goodbye Fräulein Alexandra; it was an absolute pleasure to meet you.” Alex leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and made for the newsagent stand. [Lisa is a Temporal Detective from Team 52 under Inspector Harry Hadden.] See episode: ‘Alexandra, Harry, Tess & Lisa too…’]
Lisa was reading a local paper with a picture of Hitler on the front page. That wasn’t unusual; he was on the front page of every newspaper. The girls kissed and embraced with real warmth and walked quickly away from the park. “We’ll find a quiet alley and jump.” She told Alex as she fumbled in her shopping basket and pulled out Alex’s handbag. Alex was really relieved to get her mirror back and asked Lisa about Captain Kurt Von Hess.
“Absolutely gorgeous, isn’t he? He’s a treble agent I suppose,
apparently works for the Gestapo, British Intelligence, and us!” she sighed;
“Old Doc regards him as one of his best agents and that says everything about
the man. When the time comes, he’ll have no trouble joining the Department.”
Alex nodded and they found a quiet alleyway, and both operated their mirrors
and were gone.
12. ALDERGROVE AIRPORT, BELFAST. Evening of Sunday 16th July 1972.
“Well, we know where he’s headed: the old Grand Hotel in Royal Avenue. I suspect he’ll fly a couple of hundred feet above and let the bloody thing float down and boom!” Jericho eased back in his seat and watched the windscreen wipers slowly crawl across the Van’s front screen. The evening rain was light and didn’t affect visibility: they could see the runway clearly from the small road they had parked in. On the far corner of the quiet runway was parked another van with three men standing around the rear door: all smoking. Jericho raised his binoculars again and grunted with satisfaction: “He’s there and according to my mirror he has the time device on his person. I think the show’s about to start.”
Owen tapped his mirror; “I’m ready if he uses the time device. We’ll know exactly where and when he’s jumped too.” Divij sighed and leaned over the wheel, staring at the darkening sky; “It’ll be soon, the light is fading.” Alex lowered her binoculars and read her mirror. Then everybody stopped; they could hear the plane’s engine in the distance. She quickly raised the binoculars and gestured towards the horizon; “There it is! Coming in low from the North-west.” She was right.
The two-engine prop plane was turning to match up with the start of the small runway. It’s landing lights were on and both Jericho and Alex could make out a single person in the cockpit. “According to my mirror that’s Roland Judd; an American who believes in the nationalist side and supports the IRA. He is from this time and place…. Sweet Jesus!” Owen stopped talking and stared at his mirror until prompted by Alex to finish. He looked up and didn’t smile: “He dies today. This very evening in about forty minutes. His aircraft ‘Sparrowhawk’ comes down in a field just a kilometre or two from this very airport. Wait, two other people were killed with him….” He tapped his mirror but his attention was drawn away by Jericho opening the van side door.
Everyone decamped from the
van and headed for the large, unruly hedge that grew by the roadside. They gathered
around Jericho and watched the plane land with a couple of nervous bumps. O’Connor
and his team drove their van out to meet the plane whose pilot stayed in the cockpit
but did wave a couple of times and disappeared to open the door by the tail.
It took all three to load the cylinder onto the plane, complete with its parachute and O’Connor climbed aboard with a tall skinny man who wore bright red gloves. “It will only take a few minutes to fly to the target.” Jericho said quietly and slowly smiled. He gestured back to the van and Divij jumped behind the wheel and started her. They waited for the other van to leave - being driven by the man in the strange red gloves – before Jericho stopped time. “Let’s go people!” he shouted, and the van turned from the roadway and headed across the grass towards the plane.
“Owen! Grab the time device from O’Connor and do it carefully.
Alex, check the third man and tell me immediately about him while I fiddle with
the Nazi landmine.” Jericho shouted as the van bumped across the field until it
reached the tarmac runway. He pulled a couple of papers from his pocket and a small
yellow screwdriver. The van stopped by the plane and the team jumped out with
Divij pulling open the door. The team piled in the small plane, and Alex ran
her mirror over the big man sitting in a rear passenger seat. Owen headed for
the cockpit.
Jericho had the canvas bag open and was bent over the device, carefully reading his sheets of paper. He looked up when Alex shouted over; “John Raft from Chicago, of Southern Irish stock and was born in 1974. So, he’s another bloody time-traveller! His soul is shown as missing.” Jericho just nodded and finished what he was doing with a big smile of satisfaction. Owen appeared in the cockpit doorway and gave the thumbs up: the time device was safely in his pocket. Jericho nodded with satisfaction and told everyone to head for the van; he only had five minutes left before time re-started itself. “Let’s go, quickly people, the clock is ticking!” he yelled, and they dived into the van as Divij slammed the plane door shut. Their van reached the big hedge before time kicked back in and the plane continued down the runway and lifted into the air. They sat and watched the little plane circle the field, then turn South towards the sprawling city of Belfast. Owen ran a hand over his hair; “What I was about to say earlier, was the third man in the plane crash was never identified; little wonder if he was a bloody time-traveler. The two known victims were O’Connor, because everyone knew him as that, and, of course, the pilot Judd.” The plane was still low in the sky, when it exploded in vivid colours of red, orange and yellow. The noise of the explosion actually shook the van a little. The flaming wreckage fell to earth in a lazy spin, coming down in a bare field.
Jericho folded his arms and didn’t smile; “O’Connor and his little time travelling gang also had another plan on the go. Nazi Germany in 1938 was about to be given the early results of the ‘Manhattan Project’. Captain Von Hesse passed that frightening information to old Doc Silas and Angel Margret authorized the use of deadly force. Can you imagine the Nazi scientists with atomic bombs and V2 rockets to carry them?” The team sat in silence, thinking of the dire consequences for humanity if O’Connor had succeeded in that plan.
“O’Connor’s big mistake was his passion for Irish freedom: it exposed
him to us. Had he not tried to interfere here then he may have succeeded in the
big one. At this moment, Kate the Collector is picking up Judd’s soul. But the
other two – sadly – are now lost to the darkness of real death. Frankly, a
small price to pay in the scale of things. That’s why I had to get Angel Margret’s
authority to lose those two souls. All that happened here is we lost three
souls to the darkness.” Jericho sat back and sighed deeply; “Come on, let’s go.
I could use a bloody big brandy!” [Note: the three lost souls were O’Connor/Rafferty,
Bordon/Groves and Raft.]
Divij found a quiet spot on the country road and the team jumped back to the lighthouse. Old Joe from Supplies picked up the van and was happy that it hadn’t been shot up or blown to pieces! He was heard to mutter: “Bloody Team 74!”
|
The post mission meal wasn’t as lively as usual and that didn’t go un-noticed by Jericho, but he knew the reason why. He rubbed his chin and stared at Divij picking at his vegetarian curry and sipping his lemonade. “Early days yet and everyone deserves a real chance to fit in.” he muttered under his breath and enjoyed his curry: as he always did. Mr. Harris appeared and informed Jericho that a messenger had arrived. Jericho just nodded and placed his fork down. “Probably another Mission file, I’ll get it in the study, so as not to disturb dinner.” He smiled and followed Mr. Harris out. Divij actually smiled at Alex and Owen and sat back, placing his mirror on the table. “Funny what a little insomnia can uncover. I mean the noises from that priests room could be heard through my ceiling. My bedroom was just below his and he was entertaining some people at that time of night. I think the bed collapsed at one point. So, I got up and went to the toilet. For some reason I knocked at both your doors. Found Owen’s bed empty and the same in your case Alexandra. So, I sat up and waited. Sure enough, the noise stopped and bingo, my mirror records you pair back in your rooms. Strange co-incidence that, don’t you think? But our Inspector doesn’t believe in co-incidences, does he?” He chuckled and picked up his spoon, smiling at the look on their faces. After a tense few seconds, Alex finally managed a smile; “And the point of your little story is?” Divij just chuckled and tapped his mirror. “Not quite a story Alexandra, I’m a detective and I gather evidence, sadly, only circumstantial at the moment, but I can wait. You two deviants will slip up badly and hand it over on a sliver platter. What I’m saying is, I know what you pair get up too and when I have all the evidence I need, I will pounce. Angel Margret will be most interested in what her detectives get up too on missions. But until you give me real evidence – and I will get it - I will watch you two like a hawk. This vegetable curry is quite good, isn’t it?” Alex
and Owen glanced at each other; their appetites were gone. |
Ms Abigail Hatt was transferred from her assignment in Northern Ireland at the conclusion of this case and ended up as a liaison officer in Washington DC. She married a local doctor in 1978 and had three children. Unfortunately, Abigail was killed in a terrible highway wreck on the Washington Interstate in 1989 and her soul was collected and processed. She declined the invitation to join the temporal detective’s department and jumped immediately back into the human lifecycle.
Roger John Redman was killed when he – rather foolishly – opened the letter bomb that had arrived amongst his mail. He survived the blast initially but bled to death waiting for the ambulance. Luckily, he was in the kitchen alone at the time of the explosion; he was married with three young children. His soul was collected and processed.
Graham Borden/Colin Groves was a time traveller who died outside his ordained time period and so his soul was lost to the real darkness of death. It has never been recovered and remains a missing soul. To his family and friends his disappearance remains an unsolved mystery. They have – obviously – no idea that his body was buried in woodland, in Northern Ireland, in 1972.
Father Frank O’Neil was a dedicated and very popular Parish priest with one little flaw; he loved women. He was moved no less than four times in ten years because of that ‘little flaw’ in his character! It is understood that his ‘indiscretions’ came to the Vatican’s notice, and he was transferred - finally – to a remote African parish where he lived out his remaining days. He died in 2003 of a local fever and his soul was collected and processed. Human Records confirmed that he had fathered no less than nine children by eight different women! Those ‘indiscretions’ didn’t stop him becoming a Collector and he has proved a very popular one and well respected by his colleagues. He and Owen still play chess on occasion.
Detective Constable John Doyle was tragically killed on duty in 1982 when the police car he was travelling in, collided with a lorry on an assignment in Omagh. He had never married, and his soul was collected and processed. He received two hundred and fifty human years in quarantine for murders committed before and during his tenure as a police officer. John Doyle had been committed to the IRA cause and was heavily involved in Sectarian murders in the province, using his police position as cover. His gentle and charming exterior covered a murderous, callous character. His soul re-joined the Human Life cycle in 2232.
Ms Elsie O’Hanlon worked at the hotel brothel until early 1973 when she left and moved to Cork City in Southern Ireland. She married a local farmer and had five children, but unfortunately her past caught up with her in 1991 after her husband discovered her dark history during a rare visit to Belfast. He drunk himself into an angry and murderous rage and killed her after evening mass one Sunday. Apparently, he wasn’t the forgiving kind and received a life sentence for the murder, dying in prison in 2012. Elsie’s soul was collected and processed.
David ‘Big Gordie’ Coates survived the shooting [mainly thanks to Alex] and left the army in 1974 and worked for a local council in Newcastle as a gardener in their Parks Department. He remained there until his retirement in 2011. He died in 2024 at a Hull City hospice surrounded by his grieving family; he had married Joan in 1976 and they had four children together. His soul was collected and processed. [Alex received no reprimand for her actions in saving Coates, from Angel Margret which didn’t go down too well with Sergeant Divij Singh.]
Captain Kurt Von Hess disappeared in January 1945 and didn’t resurface in Germany until 1951 where he ran a small hotel in Bavaria. He married twice and had three children by his wives. He died in 1992 and his soul was collected and processed. He is now – unsurprisingly – a Temporal Detective Constable on Team 61. Both Alex and Lisa [from Team 52] have met him on several occasions.
Roan Mitchells was to die suddenly in 1979 after a drinking bout. He suffered a massive stroke, and his soul was collected and processed. It was quarantined for a full human century for two murders committed while a ‘foot-soldier’ for the IRA. It was released back into the Human Life Cycle in 2079.
John Raft had joined O’Connor’s team – he was a passionate man for Irish freedom – and it cost him he’s soul. He had died outside his ordained time, and it was now missing. For his family back in 2022 his fate is unknown. He is just one of thousands who have been reported as ‘missing’ in the USA and who never returned home.
 |
