Bill Clayton was at home, too, like everyone else except a few duty officers at Section 11. Sir Robin Algar rang him.
“Get into the office as quickly as possible, and ring me in my office on the red phone. I suggest you get Nick in as well.”
Clayton rang Barbara first, then Nick Marsden, both with the same message.
“Get into the office as quickly as possible. Looks like a major panic on.”
Nick got there first – just – and had the kettle on by the time ‘S’ arrived. Barbara was busy turning the boiling water into coffee, as Clayton got through to Sir Robin Algar.
“What’s going on?” asked Clayton without beating about the bush. Nick Marsden was listening in on the extension.
“Jarvis has been ‘activated’,” was the reply. “We intercepted a call to him an hour or so ago, giving him instructions to meet his contact at lunchtime tomorrow. Of course, we shall have plenty of people around to watch what goes on, but we may not be able to monitor what’s said.”
“Why?”
“The rendezvous is on the bridge across the lake in St. James’s Park, which is notoriously busy at lunchtime, particularly on a fine day. And the forecast for tomorrow is for it to be a fine day.”
“Who is Jarvis meeting, do we know?”
“Probably the man who’s now made two phone calls to him. This call is certainly from the same chap – the voice signature matches. We are only assuming that it will be him at the meeting.”
“I’ll tip off my chaps,” said Clayton. “We’ll have to make sure we don’t trip over one another. Is MI5 or Special Branch being activated?”
“Special Branch. We have arranged for their technical chaps to be working on the bridge tomorrow – minor repairs and a bit of painting, that sort of thing – trying to bug the thing to pick up what’s said.”
“Good,” said Clayton. “I wouldn’t mind a live feed from that if you could arrange it.”
“Of course,” agreed Algar. “Shall I have it patched through into your Ops. Room?”
“Yes. If Jarvis is being targeted against Barclay, we need to know about it.”
“Consider it done.”
“Anything else I need to know?” asked Clayton.
“Not really,” replied the Cabinet Secretary. “Just one thing we couldn’t really understand. Something about ‘by the time we meet we’ll have Donald’, but it really meant nothing……”
“WHAT?” yelled Clayton, and hung up, Cabinet Secretary or not.
Nick rushed into Bill’s office.
“Hear that?” he said. “Donald, for God’s sake. Now we know what their hold is over Jarvis. We’re idiots not to have worked that out.”
“Barbara told you?”
“Yesterday.”
“Grab her, take our para-medic ambulance with bells, sirens, flashing lights and whatever else it’s got, and go like hell for her place in Dulwich. If he’s still there when you get there, bring Donald back here.”
Nick didn’t need to be told twice. He shot out of Bill’s office, yelled at Barbara to drop everything and run, and made straight for the underground garage. She looked quizzically at Bill, who was at the door, on her way out.
“GO,” he shouted. “Don’t hang about – Nick will explain.”
Bill shot back into his office, and got on the phone to the garage. By the time Nick and Barbara got there, the engine of the yellow and blue-hatched Mercedes was running and the garage security door was open. There was a squeal of tyres as the vehicle plunged out into the darkness, and headed south at breakneck speed.
There was little ‘S’ could do now, except wait and hope.
He poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. He really should phone the Cabinet Secretary to apologise. But what could he say? That Donald was the illegitimate son of Jarvis, and Barbara was his mother? Barbara might not be very pleased about that news getting about in Whitehall. It was a closely kept secret. Nobody knew. And yet, somehow, the Russians had found out. Who could possibly have told them? What the devil’s going on here ….. ?
He picked up the red phone.
“Sorry to hang up so abruptly like that,” he said when Robin Algar answered, “but I had to act fast and explain afterwards. You need to know that Donald is Jarvis’s son. The Russians obviously planned to kidnap the boy so as to blackmail Jarvis into doing whatever it is they want him to do.”
“I had no idea,” exclaimed Algar. “What can we do?”
“We are already doing it. A couple of my people are on their way to kidnap Donald ourselves, as fast as we can get there. I just hope we aren’t too late, that’s all.”
“So what happens if you do get the boy?”
“I’m only just beginning to think this through,” replied Clayton. “But we could get word to Jarvis that the boy has been taken, and lead him to believe that Russians have got him. That way, Jarvis will co-operate with them, and we should then be able to find out what it is they’re after.”
“Sounds a good idea, but it could be dangerous.”
“This is a dangerous business. We’ll need to stick to Jarvis like glue from now on. I’ll get a couple of Special Branch people, who he won’t know, to help us out.”
“Agreed. Let me know if there’s any help you need. And I’m sorry I didn’t mention Donald sooner, but it meant nothing to anyone here.”
“Let’s just hope we’re quick enough, that’s all, and get to him before they do.”
***
As best he could, Nick told Barbara what was happening, while trying to reassure her that Donald was going to be OK and that they would be there well before the Russians could lay a finger on him.
“Since he’s at home and in bed now anyway, with your Mother there to look after him, they were probably planning on grabbing the boy sometime tomorrow morning, perhaps on his way to nursery school.”
“I do hope you’re right,” she said. “Please hurry, Nick. Please!”
“I’m doing my best, old love. I think we’ll go the usual way, over Waterloo Bridge and down through Elephant and Castle. At least the traffic won’t be so bad at this time of night, and with the siren and lights going, we should cut through what there is.”
Barbara rang her mother on the mobile. Donald was still there and OK.
“Get him awake, Ma. Tell him we’re going for a ride in a really fast car as a special treat. Shove a few clothes in a bag, and some of his favourite toys. We’ll be away for a couple of days, but there’s no need to worry. We got wind of a possible kidnap attempt, so don’t open the door to anyone until we get there.”
“Where are you now?” asked her Mother anxiously.
“I’m not really sure, but Nick’s driving and seems to know where he is.”
“Fifteen minutes,” shouted Nick. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes or less if we’re lucky.”
Barbara had noticed that Nick got the car up to nearly 80 on one short stretch of road, even though he was driving down the wrong side. Other vehicles sensibly stopped or got out of the way. Nick was certainly a very good driver, but she shut her eyes just the same, and hung on tight.
“This would have been quicker if our HQ was in Camberwell and not Clerkenwell,” he observed, as they swung south into Denmark Hill at nearly 90.
If he was honest, Nick was quite enjoying himself. He hadn’t needed to drive like this for a long time, especially at night. It was good to keep his hand in, but he was nevertheless desperately worried that they would not get to Donald in time.
“Nearly there,” he announced. “You dive in and grab Donald while I turn the car round.”
“Will you come in with me?”
“No. I’d rather scout round to make sure we’re not being watched by the opposition, if you don’t mind.”
Nick turned off the flashing lights and the siren a few streets away, so as not to arouse undue attention when they arrived at the house.
Barbara dashed into the house as Nick turned the car and had
a careful look round to make sure the place wasn’t being watched. As he was in the surveillance business himself, he knew what to look for. Although it was dark, he was pretty sure there were no strangers about – not outside, anyway. Except that, just as Barbara re-appeared with Donald in her arms, a British Telecom van pulled slowly into the road and stopped a few houses away. Nick recognised it as one of theirs. ‘Good old Bill,’ he thought.
“Hello, young man,” he said. “Isn’t this a surprise, then! I bet you’ve always wanted a drive in one of these, with the siren going.”
A rather sleepy Donald nodded and grinned. “Will you drive fast, Uncle Nick?”
“As fast as I can, you watch!”
He turned to Barbara. “I think the coast is clear, so we can risk a quick call to the Boss, if you would. Just say ‘mission accomplished, and thanks for sending BT.’”
“BT?” she queried.
“There’s one of our BT vans in your road – arrived just as we left. They’ll be able to keep an eye on your mother from inside their little tent thing, while they fix the phones!”
“What a relief!”
“Your Bill thinks of everything,” said Nick, turning on the siren and putting his foot down again.
When they got back to Clerkenwell, the garage door was already open for them, and they drove straight in. Bill Clayton was there to meet them.
“Come up to my office.”
They followed him through the security checks and upstairs.
“Am I glad to see you, young man,” Bill said to Donald. “Did you have a nice ride in the ambulance?”
“Uncle Nick drove very fast, and had the hooters going all the way,” he replied excitedly.
“Great fun, wasn’t it,” said Barbara to her young son. “And thank you Bill for all you’ve done. I take it the threat was a real one?”
“Very real, I’m afraid, and we still need to take care. But I think the immediate danger is over. At least we have Donald. I’ve arranged for you both to stay in our flat for the time being, if that’s all right.”
“I was wondering what we should do next.”
“I’ve sent someone over with one of our camp beds from the store here, and Catherine is making that up, and a proper bed for you, in our spare room. Gladys made me sign for the bed, by the way!”
“Something else to thank you for,” grinned Barbara, the tension lifted.
“I’ve a favour to ask you, though,” said Bill Clayton. “I want you to do a bit of acting for me, and to ring Alan Jarvis to tell him hysterically that Donald has been taken from his bed. I want him to think that the Russians have done it, so that he keeps his rendezvous with them tomorrow – or later today, I should say. Unless he does that, we shall never find out what it is they want from him. Can you do that, do you think?”
“I think so. I’ll do my best to sound convincing.”
“He’s expecting them to take Donald, so he shouldn’t be too surprised.”
Nick chipped in. “He might just tell you not to phone the police under any circumstances. If he does, try to find out why not, and then eventually agree. He won’t ring them, as he will be as keen as you are to ensure Donald’s safety, and to play his part in order to get Donald released.”
“Good point Nick. Why not use your office, Barbara, and we’ll listen in. Leave Donald here to enjoy his coke.”
“And when your Mama has finished on the phone,” said Nick to him, “I’ll show you around the garage and all the cars we’ve got. Then you must get to bed at Uncle Bill’s.”
Jarvis was shocked to get Barbara’s phone call, especially at such an ungodly hour of the night, but not altogether surprised by her news. She was as hysterical as she could be, and Jarvis had a job to calm her down. As predicted, he was insistent that she did not call the Police.
“Just leave this to me,” he told her. “I’m sure I know what’s happened, and that I can get Donald back safe and sound within a day or so.”
“How can you be so sure,” she demanded.
“Because of information I’ve received at the office.”
“If you knew Donald was going to be kidnapped, why didn’t you stop it, you bastard?” she screamed at him.
“There was no way of stopping it, and I wasn’t at all sure that he was at risk anyway. But now it’s happened, you can trust me to get him back safely.”
“Why should I ever trust you?” she yelled.
“Because there’s nobody else.
“There is. I’ll ring the police this very minute,” she shouted.
“For God’s sake, don’t so that. You will only put the boy at greater risk, and prejudice my chances of getting him released quickly and safely.”
“I don’t trust you, Alan.”
“I know that, and I can understand why. But I promise I’ll do whatever I have to, to get Donald back to you soon.”
“I’ll give you a few hours, if you really insist,” she said, “but if I don’t hear something positive from you by mid-morning, I’m ringing the police.”
“I need a bit longer than that,” pleaded Jarvis. “But I should know something after lunch, and I’ll ring you then.”
“Why not before?”
“Because I’m meeting someone, that’s why.”
“Already arranged, is it? You knew all along this was going to happen and who’s behind it, and you did nothing to stop it, you bastard,” she shouted. “The police are going to love this when I tell them that you were behind the kidnapping of your own son.”
“Barbara, don’t make things worse,” he pleaded. “I’ll ring you at the office as soon as I can after lunch. I promise. Please trust me just for once.”
“If you don’t, you’ll have the police knocking on your door with an arrest warrant in the afternoon. I suggest you take a toothbrush with you to the office tomorrow.”
And she put the phone down with a bang.
“You’re wasted here, you know,” said Nick, putting an arm round her. “You should be on the stage.”
“That was brilliant,” agreed Bill. “You really put the man on the spot, and he must be sweating now. But he said he would do whatever he had to, to get Donald back, so the Russians have him over a barrel. With any luck, we’ll soon find out what they want.”
“One thing bothers me,” said Nick.
“What?”
“They will know that they haven’t kidnapped Donald, and that someone else has taken the boy.”
“My guess is that they planned to take him either when he arrived at his Nursery school later this morning, or while he was there,” conjectured Clayton. “If he doesn’t turn up for school, they can’t do that, but there could be a hundred reasons for Donald missing a day. I think they will certainly keep the appointment with Jarvis at lunchtime. The fact is that Jarvis will think they have taken Donald so it doesn’t really matter to them what’s happened to him – Jarvis will just do what they want anyway.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Nick.
“We’ll soon find out. Now let’s all go home and get some sleep while we can. Today already looks like being a long day.”
***
Special Branch had permission from the Royal Parks Police to take their van close to the St. James’s Park bridge. They were there mid-morning, and were soon clambering all over it with spanners and paintbrushes, some in the lake in waders. Nick was in the Ops. Room early, although Bill Clayton and Barbara were a bit later in than usual, having needed to make sure that Donald was settled first. When they left for Clerkenwell, he was happily playing with some of Bill’s old toys, which Catherine had dug out of an equally aged tin trunk. He seemed quite pleased to be missing a day at school, not least because Nick had promised him a ride in something else out of the garage later, if he was good.
Barbara had phoned her Mother earlier to reassure her that all was well, but advised her to stay indoors if possible until further notice, and not to answer the door to anyone. As she and Bill left his flat, she n
oticed two men on a motorbike parked a little way down the road.
Donald would be safe now.
***
To say that Alan Jarvis had slept badly would be an exaggeration. He hadn’t slept at all. The Russians certainly had him over a barrel now, but he couldn’t for the life of him work out how the Russians had discovered that Donald was his son. Nobody knew – only Barbara, of course, and he couldn’t imagine that she had told them, or even had any contact with them, in spite of working where she did. He had no idea yet, either, what it was they were going to ask him to do to secure Donald’s release, but hadn’t long to wait, now, and lunchtime couldn’t come soon enough. That was the imperative, securing Donald’s safety, although getting even with the Cabinet Secretary and Section 11 would be a bonus.
His wife had rung in to the office to say he was unwell, and wouldn’t be at his desk today. She certainly thought he looked dreadful when he left the house ‘to get some fresh air.’ He got to the park early, but the man was already there, leaning over the railings of the bridge, Financial Times under his arm, reading the Mail. As usual, there were lots of people about. Some were feeding the ducks, others eating their sandwiches, while even more were simply enjoying the sun in deckchairs and listening to the band playing on the bandstand. Tourists thronged the bridge as well, taking photos of one another, or just the view, either of the Foreign Office or Buckingham Palace, or both. ‘Dusty’ Miller was also there, taking photographs, although you would have been forgiven for thinking he was simply chatting on his mobile phone.
Jarvis lent over the railings next to the man. They admired the view together in silence for a few moments.
Eventually, the man said, “Kind of you to meet me here, Mr. Jarvis.”
“Did I have a choice?”
“Not really.”
“I want my son released unharmed immediately,” said Jarvis.
The man was surprised, but tried not to show it. He knew by then that they had not, after all, kidnapped the boy.
“Your son?” he queried. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“You know bloody well what I’m talking about,” replied Jarvis. “You said you’d have Donald by the time we met, and you know he was taken from his bed late last night. I want him back.”
The man looked over the railings at a passing duck, and a few workmen busy under the bridge.