Live to Tell (19 page)

“Oh,” I said. “I read that there are patrols in the area at night, you know, police patrols.”

“What for?”

“You know.” I dug him in the ribs.

“Oh, you mean like cottaging?”

“Cottaging? What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He laughed at me. “Come on; let’s go home, before we’re rounded up. I thought the night that we looked at the orange sky, a few days before we were married, was the best ever, but this is even better.”

He held me in his arms for a moment, then we walked back down the hill.

The next day, in the heat of the afternoon, we went for a walk in Regent’s Park. On our return we automatically walked into our bedroom and started taking off our clothes. I pulled the curtains tightly shut. Because we were on the ground floor, we couldn’t really open any windows but time seemed so short that we couldn’t wait for nightfall.

“Can’t wait to get my kit off. It’s such a hot day. Can you rub my back,” he said. “My left shoulder is aching a bit.”

He dropped his clothes in a heap on the floor and stretched, grabbing his left arm behind his head with his right hand. I watched him move, never able to get enough of the sight of him.

“Lie down, then.”

He lay on his stomach and loosely stretched out his arms. I took off all my clothes, climbed onto the bed and straddled his naked body. My hands are not very strong so all I could do was rub his shoulders in a circular motion, but he seemed to enjoy it. Beneath the skin, I could see and feel his muscles flexing at my touch; it gave me the most powerful sensation and sent a spasm through my body. I gently kissed the back of his neck.

“How does that feel, now,” I whispered.

“Nice.”

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn around?”

I sat up, taking my weight onto my knees. “Can you move alright, now?”

He nodded and turned over onto his back. His hands held me round the waist and he sighed in satisfaction, as I settled down again and mounted him.

So that I would have something strong to push against and to help me maintain the rhythm we needed, he held out his hands for me to hold on to. I bounced against him and in the hot and humid air, beads of sweat ran down my cleavage.

“Here, let me lick you dry,” he said, softly. Half sitting up, he ran his tongue down my throat, between my breasts, and circled my nipples. “I love the taste of your skin. This is why I’ve been working out, need strong muscles for fucking you. When this is finished, I’m going to lick you all over.” He lay back down again, and smiled into my eyes.

The climax came for us quickly then, and our hands locked. It seemed to last forever, and at the end we stared at each other in silent amazement. I swallowed hard and collapsed beside him with my head upon that perfect chest and he put his arms around me.

“It just gets better, doesn’t it,” he said and kissed the side of my head. “We are so lucky, you and I. You know, we are going to have a really good life together.”

He had to leave very early Monday morning to catch an eight o’clock flight to Belfast and didn’t want me to get up with him. He thought it was too early for me but I didn’t care. I wanted to spend every last minute with him, so relieved that our two year separation was nearly at an end.

At the doorway he stroked my nose. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I said, kissing him several times.

He tore himself away, laughing. “So you should, after all the effort I’ve put in. At Belfast they’ll have to carry me off the plane. And I’ll miss the flight altogether if you don’t let me go. Then I’ll be in trouble. It won’t be long now. Then we’ll be together so much, you’ll be sick of me. I’ll ring you tonight. OK?” He kissed me one last time, waved at me and left, and my life felt suddenly like it was on hold again.

Second Lieutenant Ben Jacobs of the British Army’s Intelligence Corps wasn’t sure whether he was on his first tour of military duty or just on an assignment. I should have listened more closely, he thought, but knowing that it was in Northern Ireland kind of shoved all other thoughts aside. Of course I should have realised this is where I’d be sent. So here I am, and so far pretty impressed.

He decided the security at Belfast airport when he landed the night before was rivalled only by that at Tel Aviv. But he doubted whether any of the people queuing to be frisked in Belfast had ever been there. Some travellers appeared to resent the delays and physical intrusion but Ben preferred to be safe than sorry. A few smiles wouldn’t go amiss though, he thought.

He hardly exchanged any words with the transport detail at the airport and on arrival at the military base he went directly to his room, purposely avoiding the Officers Mess. The men he saw all looked older than he was. He never felt he had much in common with his fellow officers in a social environment and this was the first time he had seen his new Commanding Officer.

The colonel’s office was stuffed with old wooden furniture covered with cracked embossed red leather, and through the window Ben could see steam gushing out of badly maintained pipes that lined the outside wall. The intermittent rain that bounced off the hot pipes only added to the impression of a colonial greenhouse that had gone to pot and seemed much hotter outside than in. Against this backdrop the colonel sat, perched on the edge of his desk with his arms folded, a map of Ulster behind him on the smoke-stained wall.

“Second Lieutenant Jacobs reporting for duty, Sir.”

The man he addressed was short, even podgy for a military man, and had a receding hairline that made it difficult for Ben accurately to assess his age. His belly bulged over his regimental belt and Ben guessed that Lieutenant Colonel Myerson MC was nearer fifty than forty. He wondered what Myerson got the military cross for while idly glancing around the room.

Myerson smiled. “Sit down, Lieutenant. It’s Ben isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir.” Ben found an old arm-chair and sank into it.

“Well, Ben, good to have you on board. For starters, have you been briefed at all about the operation we need you for?”

“No, not really, Sir. They told me that it was better for you to fill me in when I got here. But I understand surveillance is involved?”

“You could say the whole job is a form of surveillance. Eaves-dropping, actually. Don’t think you’re here to become a hero. You’re not trying to make a name for yourself, just to do a job. OK? We’ve been mounting this operation for some months but lately it’s gone sour. In order to infiltrate terrorist cells, we’ve got a couple of plants in place, bloody difficult work and highly dangerous. Can’t risk them getting any personal information out ’til things get critical. Could cost their lives. You probably remember the captain whose body fetched up in Omagh. What was not reported was that he had been tortured before he died. Gave nothing away. Bloody brave. Don’t want a repeat. We have listening devices installed trying to get a heads-up on what’s being planned but the info coming through is too trivial to be true, literally. The men working on it can’t make head nor tail. This is where you come in. I specifically asked for someone fresh out of training school—need a new pair of ears—not tainted by any prior local nonsense. Listen to the dross, see if you can get a new take on it. We’re in stalemate here. Could be significant code words lost on us so far. Something we’re missing.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“To be frank, I’m not optimistic, so don’t get depressed if you fail to come up with anything.”

“No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, you won’t be working on your own. You’ll head up a three-man team. I’ve got a sergeant, a fusilier, good bloke to work alongside. He won’t be involved in the listening, more there to watch your back, good man to have in a tight spot. Get my drift? Name’s Baker.”

“Right, Sir.”

“Also, I’ve requested back up from the Royal Signals. Help with the electronics. Now, the man they’re sending is a bit of an unknown quantity. I asked Rheindahlen for a well qualified sergeant.” Oliver paused and pursed his lips. “But it seems that the man they picked got into a fight, landed himself in chokey. ‘Grievous Bodily Harm’ by all accounts. If this turns out to be some kind of wheeze to avoid the duty, his feet won’t touch the ground, I can promise you. He’ll be on more than a charge for brawling. So, because he’s not available they’ve instead offered me a young corporal. Because they know that this is just
not
on, and
not
what I requested and I’d not be at all pleased at the substitution, they sent a secure fax through; a pen picture of the lad. It made interesting reading.”

“Sir?”

“Well, Corporal Powell is a surprising character, competent at his work, diligent, very well thought of, locally. You get the drift?”

“Is that surprising, Sir? The signals guys I’ve encountered have all been clever and serious types.”

“What’s surprising is that the powers that be think this one will make officer before too long, up through the ranks. Not an everyday occurrence, but under the circs, well… Well, on paper at least it looks like we could be getting a good deal and you’ll get on pretty well.”

The older man hesitated. “To be honest, if I’d been recruiting officer, when Powell joined I wouldn’t have let him in. He should not have been allowed to enlist. He could have gone to Sandhurst, must have lied on his application form.”

“Sir?”

Myerson sighed. “His father owns half of Essex!”

“Good Lord, Sir. Are you serious?” Coming from North London Ben knew the county of Essex well. In recent years the homes of local respectable citizens had been augmented by the opulent mansions of wealthy criminals. Wonder which group he fits into, he thought.

“By all accounts. Must be difficult for him, mixing with the other men. Well we’ll see, when he gets here. He’s on his way, someone picking him up as we speak.”

Oh, great! Ben thought. This was a complication he could do without. Having just been told that he wasn’t required for his personal competence, more for his naivety, he didn’t relish working with some technological whiz-kid, with more money than sense. Don’t know about “get on pretty well,” he thought. Sounds more like we’re polar opposites.

“This brings me back to the point, Ben. Both you and the corporal will have a lot more in common with each other than with the doughty sergeant but it’s not in anybody’s interests for him to feel excluded or patronised. He’s been assigned to you for a reason. You need to keep him onside. Studies in WW I showed that members of a unit formed a loyalty to each other that went way beyond King and country. As a particularly small group, you need that loyalty more than most. He’s a good man and tough. Can be relied upon, if you get my drift. The right man to have at your side on The Falls Road, if you see what I mean. Take his advice, and that’s an order. He knows what he’s talking about. Your life could depend upon it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ben knew he’d have to make the best of it. Juniors like me seem to get no choice in anything, he thought. I bet Sgt. Baker is not looking forward to this assignment either. I wonder what his background is. Boot camp? Just great, he thought miserably. A boring six weeks, a disaffected psycho sergeant and a high flying Essex boy. Brilliant!