Vengeance: The Mel Doyle Series, #2

VENGEANCE

––––––––

SAM BOYD

A MEL DOYLE NOVEL

PUBLISHING INFORMATION

Copyright © 2018 Sam Boyd

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Vengeance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Where the author has used real names, events and places the circumstances when used are also a product of his imagination to add authenticity to his work. Any resemblance to actual life actions or events is purely coincidental.

samboydauthor@aol.com

BOOKS IN THE MEL DOYLE SERIES:

To my wife – I love you so much

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other books by the Author

CHAPTER

ONE

Lord Turner stared out of his apartment window. Looking at Hyde Park, where visitors were enjoying the late evening sunshine. Usually, the view made him smile. People of all nationalities appreciating the serene beauty of the city he loved. Typically, by nature, optimistic, looking for the good in everyone. Recent events had changed him in ways he would never have imagined. Anger now his overwhelming emotion. It threatened everything he did, in what he believed and held to be true.

Jack controlled the rage most of the time by keeping busy.  But, on nights like this when he had nothing to occupy his mind, the demons of hatred screamed out for revenge. Jack craved for release before the voices in his head overpowered him, and listened to what they said. Perhaps worse still, and act on their demands.

Jack moved away from the view to make calls. A few friends might be free for the evening. He needed to surround himself with people he knew before he lost all sense of reason and control.

After twenty minutes of calling every contact he had in the London area, without success, he gave up. Several didn’t pick-up, and his call went to answerphone.  He didn’t leave a message as it might sound desperate. Everyone he talked to was either too busy or had prior arrangements.  

He considered leaving London and travelling to his country cottage in Worcestershire. Maybe his godsons Sam and Jake Winstanley were home in Pennington Hall, or their aunt Rose and her husband George at Exelby House the next estate. Anything to occupy his mind and silence the angry voices. Jack hadn’t seen any of them for some time, and it would be good to catch up.

On a Friday evening, it’s a long slow journey to Worcestershire, and he’d better call them first. Before doing that, he had another thought and called Mel Doyle.  Doyle and his ex-wife Kathy were coming to London for the weekend and had asked him to join them. At the time, Jack didn’t want to intrude and declined Doyle’s offer. Now, as his tormentors urged him into action, he wished he’d accepted the invitation. Jack hoped they wouldn’t mind his change of heart. However, it was not to be; he was out of luck. Doyle’s mobile went to the answering service. Jack didn’t leave a message.

Desperate for company and relief from his mental tormentors, Jack finally called Worcestershire to let his godson’s and Rose know he was coming for the weekend. He couldn’t believe it when staff at the estates told him Sam and Jake were in Cambridge and George and Rose in Devon. The devil looks after his own, forcing him to listen to the demons.

Jack had one more option. To go to a bar, he used occasionally. There were people in the same position as him, Norman-No-Mates, seeking friendship from anyone who would talk to them. It was the derogatory term he coined for them. Jack resolved never to be that unkind again. He was not comfortable using the bar and alcohol as a prop, but it quietened voices in his head.

The last thing Jack needed right now was liquor as a friend. What he was desperate for, was company and the bar was his only option.

Jack changed from his work suit, into sports jacket and slacks. He was about to leave the apartment when his mobile phone rang. He hoped it was Doyle returning his call. Looking at the caller ID, it was from an unknown number. Jack didn’t care who it was from; he needed to talk to anybody. Jack was surprised when he recognised the Prime Minister’s distinctive voice.

Good evening Jack, I apologise for calling you on a Friday evening, but something has come up, that I need to discuss with you urgently.

No need to apologise Prime Minister. How can I be of help? A feeling of relief passing through his body as he spoke. At last, he may have something to concentrate on and silence his tormenters.

I am at Chequers for the weekend and want you to come for lunch tomorrow. 

The way the Prime Minister phrased it made it clear this wasn’t a request. There was no hint of, ‘if tomorrow is inconvenient’ or ‘if you can’t make it tomorrow, can you make Sunday’.

Not at all, Jack recognised the instruction and confirmed he would arrive around noon.

Jack, you must come alone, and tell no one you are coming or that you have been here. The PM added.

As you wish Prime Minister, I will drive myself.

Thank you, Jack; I will see you at lunch tomorrow.  Goodnight,

The line went dead before Jack could say another word.

Jack wanted to ask if there was anything, he needed to bring with him or prepare for the meeting but wasn’t given a chance. He removed his sports jacket and poured a glass of red wine.  All thought of using alcohol as a prop evaporated, as did going out or going up to Worcestershire. He needed to think. What had happened for the PM to summon him to a meeting urgently? Jack tried to recall everything he’d done that might have brought him to the Prime minister’s attention. The rest of the evening, Jack spent sipping red wine and going over every detail that could have put him on the PM’s radar. Nothing sprung immediately to mind. All it did was leave him with more questions. Most of which he couldn’t answer. Jack’s biggest issue remained unresolved. What on earth did the Prime Minister want?

In less than three hours, Jack went from, having nothing to do, and worrying about alcohol as a prop, to sipping almost a full bottle of red wine.  He should have been feeling drowsy, but couldn’t sleep a multitude of questions running through his head, keeping him awake.

CHAPTER

TWO

Chequers is the official country residence of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.  It is a 16th-century manor house located near the village of Ellesborough in Buckinghamshire, about forty miles north-west of Central London. Presidents of the United States, France and Russia have all been guests at this famous house.

Although Chequers is relatively close to London, due to traffic, it took Jack almost two hours to get there on Saturday morning. The security guards at the entrance to the estate were expecting him. Two armed, plain-clothed police officers inspected the car before passing him through the large ornate iron gates. A third officer jumped into the passenger seat to escort him up the long drive to the main house. 

Chequers is a vast estate of around fifteen hundred acres.  The house used as a weekend retreat to entertain distinguished guests. It is also occasionally used for clandestine policy meetings with senior members of the cabinet. Jack’s invitation at short notice intrigued him. What had happened?  Why had he been summoned to come alone and not tell anyone?

Arriving at the house, Jack was shown to a huge drawing room and offered a cup of coffee or tea. He chose tea and sat drinking alone for more than twenty minutes before the Prime Minister entered. The long wait made him wonder if he was in some kind of trouble.

I apologise for keeping you waiting, unfortunately in my line of business there is no such thing as a weekend away from work. He said with a smile, Thank you for coming at such short notice.

The PM and Jack chatted informally about the house and its place in the history of British Prime Ministers. It was all very relaxed and to emphasise the casualness of the meeting the PM dressed in open-necked shirt and slacks.

Jack was waiting for the hammer to fall. He was definitely in trouble. The PM was being too polite. He might be relaxed, but Jack, who had dressed formally in a dark blue suit, white shirt and blue paisley tie was not. His stomach roiling in nervous anticipation.

Jack knew from experience this was the build-up to something meaningful. He was being sounded out, relaxed, analysed and softened up before the PM decided the time had come to put the hammer down. The small talk was the preamble to the real reason he was at Chequers.

The PM covered many subjects, from personal to professional, but gave no hint of what the real reason was for the urgent summons.

Let’s go through to the small dining room. The PM said, I took the liberty of ordering a fillet of local Oxfordshire beef. I hope you like it?

It was more severe than Jack thought. He was being fed and watered before being slaughtered. An image of the governor asking the prisoner what he would like for his last meal before execution flashed through his mind.

Are you alright, Jack, you seem a little pre-occupied? The PM asked.

Sorry Prime Minister I have to admit I was wondering where all this was going?

All in good time, Jack, let’s enjoy a good lunch before we get down to business.

The PM’s response didn’t help.

The lunch was delicious, and Jack could have drunk more than the one glass of the excellent red wine that complemented the beef. But he needed to be alert to everything the PM was saying. In any case, he had to drive back to London after the meeting, and wouldn’t do to be pulled over and breathalysed after leaving the PM’s country residence.

The meal lasted less than fifty minutes and filled only with small talk. The Prime Minister rose and suggested they go to a small private office for coffee. He served Jack himself, and only then, got to the crux of the hastily arranged meeting. 

He was apologising again for the short notice and the clandestine manner of the meeting. The PM thanked Jack for being so understanding about the situation.  Jack thought he detected a hint of nervousness about the PM’s voice.

I hope I didn’t interfere with your weekend plans too much?

Jack didn’t respond as he wondered whether this was another softening-up process before the heavy boot dropped.

The PM abruptly changed from the conversational style he had adopted to a business-like approach. Here it comes, Jack thought.

I want to begin by summarising the many security issues that currently are testing the government and the safety of the general public. In particular, the combined threats of ISIS and Al Qaeda to the cities and citizens of London, Manchester, Edinburgh and Birmingham.

The PM went on to describe in detail some of the terrorist’s activities and the plans in place to prevent further atrocities. The sudden change of subject and intensity in the Prime Ministers attitude took Jack a by surprise.

Other than thought-provoking, Jack found the conversation awkward.  He couldn’t see how he could be of help or where he could be of assistance to the Prime Minister.

We have little defence against these organisations. The PM continued, Other than through the security services of MI5 or MI6, and the SAS. If we are lucky, sometimes in the Courts of Law, where occasionally we can obtain a conviction and put the terrorist away.

The PM stared at Jack, long and hard as if waiting for a response or an understanding of what he had said. Jack kept quiet and waited for the PM to get to the point. The real reason for the meeting.

The lack of convictions is not the court's fault; it is the governments. In most instances for security reasons, we are unable to provide all the information we have gathered on these criminals.  To do so, would put the lives of courageous security personnel at risk.  Added to that every response and action we take is in the public eye, and we have to protect the resources and assets we have in place. In the United Kingdom justice has to be seen to be done, in the eyes of its people, through the Europe courts and of course the rest of the world. In pursuing the enemies of our country, the terrorist is not subject to the same restrictions or conventions. We, the elected officials, are bound and hog-tied by the very rules the terrorist breaks to perpetrate their atrocities without fear of conviction or retribution.

There was a trace of anger and emotion in the PM’s voice.

Jack had never seen him like this before. One of the Prime Ministers many attributes were that he always remained calm and gave considered responses, no matter the provocation. Something had happened recently that had changed the PM’s perspective of what was needed. Jack remained silent, waiting for the PM to continue.

Of course, they use their people and converts as suicide bombers. The loss of those lives is distressing, even when they take innocent victims with them. But, the biggest travesty to justice is that we never get to bring the real culprits, the planners, the purveyors of hate in the name of the Koran or Jihad, to account. They remain free untouched, to carry on, to plan and commit further crimes of death and destruction.

As the PM spoke, he was staring fiercely at Jack as if he was the enemy or the PM was trying to force a reaction out of him.  He may even have been assessing how Jack was taking in what he had to say, or gauging what Jack was thinking or feeling. Jack forced himself to remain neutral in attitude until the PM finished.

Even when, on many occasions, we know who, the culprits are, we are unable to prove it without giving away the security measures we have in place. I believe the time has come when we need a means of circumventing the legal approach to carry out swift justice, quietly, and effectively.

If the Prime Minister only knew it, given Jack’s recent personal experience, he was preaching to the converted. Jack couldn’t agree with him more. The killing of his fiancé, Susan, by the London gang haunted him every night. Despite the voices in his head demanding justice for her, he knew there was little he could do to make that happen.

I don’t know where you are going with this Prime Minister or where you are trying to lead me or what you want to say or ask. But, if it helps, let me assure you that I agree with everything you have said and will do anything I can to support your fight against these criminals.

The PM visibly relaxed, and a smile crept into the corners of his mouth.

Thank you, Jack. I hoped I’d read you correctly and perhaps now I can be a little more direct in what I’m proposing.

The Prime Minister surprised Jack. It meant he had been monitoring him and was about to offer him a role in a government department. A position that had an element of secrecy about it and that is why he had been asked to come alone and to tell no one. Jack felt a tremor of excitement pass through him. It was what he needed to get over Susan and silence the voices of torment that challenged him whenever he had nothing to occupy his mind.  Maybe he would get the opportunity to avenge Susan’s death, after all. Jack waited for the Prime minister to begin.

CHAPTER

THREE

The PM relaxed and leant back in the armchair. At his right-hand side a small wooden, highly polished table that had a single drawer above a space where magazines and brochures were stacked.  He reached over and pulled out a thick yellow folder on the front of which in large red letters were the words,

TOP SECRET-FOR EYES ONLY.

What I am about to share with you is known by only four other people. The PM began, They are, the head of MI6, the Foreign Secretary, the head of SAS and myself.  All I ask is that after looking at what this file contains and my proposal at the end of the folder, is not of interest to you, then you never saw this file, and we never had this conversation.

Jack accepted the pre-condition and waited for the PM to set his thoughts in order and outline what the file contained.

"All governments since