Sun of the Sleepless (16 page)

'Well,' Frans shrugged, 'you can consider that thought over the weekend, they want both of you to fly back to England on Monday, in the mean time we get some rest, write our reports and keep in touch!'

He reached for his glass and raised it aloft.

'
Proost
!'

Your early morning wake-up call -

Jackson could not get to sleep, in spite of the fact that he had spent the vast majority of his flight from the US reading through the material stored on his secure memory stick on his laptop computer. He had immersed himself in some classical music playing on his MP3 player as he checked the reference material that Casper had supplied, some of which made for fantastical reading.

After landing, he had managed to get a room at around half-past three in the morning and had finally tried to drift off, hoping to feel at least comfortably rested by nine o'clock in the morning, looking forward to a leisurely stroll around Amsterdam before catching the train down to The Hague to check-in to his hotel proper.

Jackson rolled his head on his pillow and gazed at the bedside clock; it was already six o'clock in the morning and he knew that he had dozed for only an hour or so, although in theory he should have been fast asleep since it was actually around midnight back home in the US. He looked back up to the ceiling and sighed in exasperation, trying to focus on one single special point in a conscious effort to actually stay awake, knowing that it could have the opposite affect and actually induce some sort of slumber.

Jackson knew the reason why he was still awake. His mind was preoccupied by the material he had read on the plane, trying to make some sort of sense out of it and reach a conclusion concerning the events of the last twenty-four hours and whether the recent events might in fact mark the real pinnacle of his entire career. Events would soon unfold to clarify his position.

He suddenly flicked his eyes open and realised that he had been woken; his hotel phone was ringing. Stealing a glance at the digital alarm clock, he saw that he must have drifted off although it was only fifteen minutes later. Pulling back the covers he swivelled around to sit on the edge of the mattress and plant his bare feet onto the rough carpet, reaching for the phone trilling loudly on the bedside table.

'Jackson?'

He took a moment to recognise the voice but could not miss the accusatory manner in which his name had been barked.

'Chuck? What's up? You know its Saturday for both of us?'

Manson's voice had no trace of humour and there was even a hint of a growl as he responded.

'Yeah, and this weekend is already over for both of us, you need to get your ass to the embassy in The Hague double time, the shit has hit the fan big-time!'

It took a moment for Jackson to understand what his boss was saying.

'Chuck? What's going on?'

A deep sigh deflated Manson's previous aggression by a few bars.

'To be honest, I don't know, but when you get a face full of double-D you'd better sit up and take notice!'

Jackson knew that Manson's turn of phrase did not relate to the seemingly pleasurable experience of being confronted by the out-sized assets of the female anatomy but to an encounter with the Deputy Director of the CIA.

'Kappel? Well, why would he want me?'

'I don't know Jackson, but this came from him directly, he called me himself and wanted to know what you were up to.'

Manson paused for a moment.

'Tell me you haven't shafted me old buddy. This has the smell of something that sticks and I'm not talking about peanut butter. What have you been up to Jackson?'

Jackson was shaking his head, thinking hard.

'Chuck, I have no idea what this is about, I'm just following a lead on an old flag profile, no different to what I told you before. I haven't dropped you in it, I swear it Chuck.'

Although a further sigh showed that Manson had relaxed a little, he still had an edge.

'Well, my orders are to get you to the embassy right away and there is a car heading your way as we speak. I had to request a top priority identity trace to find you, your cell phone must have been switched off during the flight and I guess that you're not getting a good signal out there.

'Buddy, they've pulled out the stops just to get you into a video conference with Kappel as soon as possible so this is a big deal. They're also calling in that Mallory guy I had seconded for you. Take a leak, get washed, get dressed, stay put and wait for the knock on the door and Jackson,' he paused for affect, 'don't mention this to anybody, this comes straight from the top, you're not to talk to anybody about this.'

Jackson's mind was racing, he could not understand it all, and could not guess what events he had inadvertently triggered that would cause the Deputy Director himself to want to talk with him so urgently, unless his earlier suspicions had been correct.

'Thanks Chuck, I'll do that, I appreciate the heads-up.'

'No problem, just don't pull any more surprises on me, I'm too near retirement to screw up my pension now.'

'You're in the clear old friend,' Jackson nodded, 'I'll catch up with you later.'

'Good, now, sit tight, they'll be there soon.'

Jackson still held the receiver to his ear as the line went dead and was broken out of his thoughts by a loud knock on his door. He placed the handset back on the telephone cradle and switched a lamp on, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright light and hastily looking around for his trousers before quickly slipping them on. Another sequence of knocks pounded against the door.

'Alright, alright, I'm getting there!'

Lumbering across the room and still fiddling with his fly zipper in his haste, Jackson took a deep breath to relax slightly before unlocking the door and starting to open it.

It swung open with slightly more vigour than he had applied as his visitor pressed against it to hurry it along and Jackson took a sharp step back and squinted into the brightly lit corridor where two burly shaven headed men in dark blue suits stood waiting.

The visitors looked him up and down and the man who had obviously been knocking at the door spoke urgently.

'Mr. Revere, Staff Sergeant Stanley and PFC Oliver from the Marine Corps Embassy Security Group, I have orders to escort you to the US Embassy in The Hague as quickly as possible.'

There was no hint of negotiation or discussion and Jackson opened his arms wide to illustrate his state of readiness.

'Am I allowed to finish dressing first?'

Sergeant Stanley did not smile and simply nodded curtly.

'I'll come inside and wait, but please, we must hurry.'

He turned and nodded to his associate who assumed a somewhat obvious guard position in the corridor. Jackson backed away from the entrance and the Marine walked straight in and closed the door behind him.

'As quickly as possible sir.'

Jackson thought that since he was still being called 'Sir', and the Sergeant had used the word 'please', the situation could not be entirely negative.

'I'll be as quick as I can.'

He grabbed his clothing from a tub chair where he had discarded it in the early morning hours and hastily started to dress under the watchful gaze of his escort. As he was buttoning his shirt he nodded to a couple of suitcases sitting atop a luggage stand.

'My bags?'

'Are they packed up?'

'If I'm not wearing it then it is still in one of the suitcases or hanging in the closet, although I have a wash bag in the bathroom.'

Sergeant Stanley's demeanour did not alter and his face appeared to be set in stone, displaying no change of expression, he just walked into the bathroom and came out again carry the wash bag, quickly lifting the lid of one of the suitcases and unceremoniously dumping it inside.

'Anything else sir?'

Perched at the foot of the bed, Jackson started to roll his socks on.

'I think that is everything apart from my jacket and coat in the closet, thank-you Sergeant.'

He slipped both of his shoes on and bent forward over his thighs to reach down to lace them up, the Sergeant turning and retrieving the two items of clothing from the small closet and holding them out to Jackson, clearly indicating that time was slipping away and that he should hurry.

'Are you ready sir?'

Standing up and stamping his feet a couple of times to get his shoes comfortable, Jackson reached out for the jacket and quickly slipped it on before taking the offered heavy winter coat that also hung from the Marine's bulky arm. He swung it around like a cape and fluidly threaded one arm and then the other into the sleeves before shrugging it over his shoulders.

Jackson grinned benignly.

'All set Sergeant.'

He made to grab his baggage but Sergeant Stanley swung open the door and created a barrier with outstretched arms, blocking him and directing him at the same time, herding him straight out into the corridor like a sheep being steered to a shearing pen. Private First Class Oliver had snapped-to immediately the door has started to open and Stanley had caught his eye, nodding back inside and simply barking 'Suitcases!'

As the senior enlisted man moved out into the corridor with Jackson, PFC Oliver darted into the room to pick up the bags. The Sergeant did not wait; he practically pushed Jackson to the elevator using a rock-solid arm politely but firmly pressed against his back, encouraging him to hurry along.

It had taken less than five minutes between Jackson opening the door to his Marine escorts to be being bundled into the back seat of a parked black Audi A8.

The atmosphere was ominous within the interior of the car as it sped along the relatively empty streets of Amsterdam, bumping over small bridges and threading between the famous canals, heading for the main highway down to The Hague. Jackson leaned forward to engage the Marines, hoping to kindle some light conversation.

'So, Staff Sergeant Stanley and PFC Oliver - Stanley and Oliver. That makes for quite a pairing don't you think?'

The Private was driving and simply continued staring straight ahead at the road, intermittently checking his mirrors and seemingly completely deaf to Jackson's words. The Sergeant did not look around either but intoned a non-committed S
ir
to the jocular enquiry, marking the fact that Jackson had spoken but not acknowledging or querying his meaning.

'Ohh, come on Sergeant,' Jackson chided, smiling broadly, 'you know, Stan and Ollie? Laurel and Hardy? Surely somebody must have mentioned it before?'

The Sergeant continued gazing forward, preoccupied by the other vehicles on the road and occasionally checking the sparse traffic behind them in the extra rear-view mirror that was placed on the passenger side of the car.

'I wouldn't know anything about that sir.'

'You should look them up sometime,' Jackson enthused, 'a classic comedy double-act, everybody loves Laurel and Hardy!'

The Sergeant still did not turn and his voice remained unchanged from the formal uninterested tone of a Department of Motor Vehicles licensing clerk.

'Thank you sir, I may do that.'

Jackson nodded to himself, realising that the view out of his own side window was likely to be the only entertainment that he could hope for during this particular journey.

'Yes, you do that Sergeant, you do that.'

He sat back and readjusted his seatbelt, settling himself into his spacious leather seat and consigning himself to silence as he considered that when an MCESG guard was on duty, he truly lived up to the bywords of professionalism, discipline and vigilance.

After the overtly subdued but mercifully swift journey to The Hague, the car had been waved through the large electronic security gate of the US Embassy, nosing forward impulsively as Oliver gave an unnecessarily heavy pump of the accelerator to lurch the big Audi into the compound.

Rapidly unbuckling his seatbelt, Stanley hopped out even before the car had rolled to a full halt, quickly turning to open the rear passenger door to demonstrably invite Jackson to exit the vehicle.

Jackson sighed and heaved himself out of the car, feeling the sharp bite of the cold air in contrast to the warm interior he was leaving behind.

'A beautiful morning for it, Sergeant,' he beamed widely.

'This way sir,' Sergeant Stanley stated dourly, acknowledging nothing and simply directing his charge to the double doors of the entrance, 'you're expected in the Ambassador's conference suite.'

Jackson followed the burly Marine as he lead the way into the building, nodding to the guard on duty behind a desk who made no attempt to request identification, clearly already fully informed of the arrival of this particular guest.

Hastening to catch up, Oliver automatically fell into step with his non-commissioned officer and they practically marched Jackson as if delivering a prisoner to the brig-house, the heels of their shoes digging loudly against the tiled floor and causing a ricochet of echoes in the foyer.

'The lift is not working today sir - maintenance - we'll have to take the stairs,' said Stanley, speaking back over his shoulder to at least give some semblance of politeness and conversation.

He walked through to a fire door and pushed it open, allowing Jackson through before starting to climb the stairs ahead of him.

'I hope it's not too far,' grinned Jackson, maintaining his friendly demeanour, 'I wouldn't want to end up breathing too heavily if I'm going to be chewed out!'