Chapter 11

“I don’t see why not. Actually, Jones is not my real name anyway, but that is by the by; just one aspect of disappearing. You both could call yourself Mrs Jones, for all it matters. If you were both out in company together, you can imply you both married men named Jones. It is a common enough surname.”

Phemie stopped to think, then said, “I’ll need to take a few days off for a ‘holiday’ abroad, and come back to the academy wearing a wedding ring. When asked, I would simply say, ‘You can now call me Mrs Jones’, suggesting I secretly got married while on holiday.”

I chuckled at her clever plan. “And at some point Fiona can do something similar, after talking about having met Mrs Jones’ husband’s family. That could work.”

Phemie looked at me shrewdly. “Then in the future, if your problems go away, you may look at this differently?”

“That may happen, Phemie, and I hope it will, but I don’t want either you or Fiona to feel slighted by a marriage to only one of you. I would much prefer treating you both as my wives and allow you to behave similarly towards me. A marriage ceremony is just that, a ceremony followed by a piece of paper saying it happened. A real marriage is where the spouses love each other always, and show it in the way they treat each other. I think you and Fiona could be examples of that.”

“Hmm ... I see what you mean. Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

“Try me, and I’ll tell you if it is practical. For example, I can pay for wedding rings.”

“Not a great expense, though. Let me see ... are you willing to write a will leaving half your assets to me and half to Fiona?”

“That seems eminently practical, so certainly, yes. I would have to write it myself, and get a friend to witness my signature. I can’t use a lawyer at present; too formal a record.”

“What about your two boys? Don’t you want to pass on something to them?”

“When they are older, and not controlled by their mother, then I can alter my will to give them a share. I would consult with my two ladies on the amounts to be allocated, for we may have our own children to be due a share.”

Phemie retracted her specific demands, saying, “I suppose we can leave it to the parents about what gets passed down to the children. I am not even clear about what my own parents have stated in their wills. Do you think I should ask?”

“Only if you say you are asking on the advice of your lawyer, as it might impinge on your own asset value. Say you are not clear why this should be so, but you are asking anyway, to keep him on side. That way, it does not seem as if you are looking for their money. I don’t know if you have any siblings, but that should not make much difference as I expect it will be an equal share for each of you.”

“Doesn’t have to be. English law leaves it up to the person’s wishes, but most parents want to be fair to their offspring. One of my lecturers at university told me it is different, more formulised, in Scotland, where he comes from. The widow and children get specific shares by law.”

As we spoke, Fiona came in the front door, singing softly to herself. I remarked, “You sound happy, Fiona dear.”

She beamed her news before telling us, “Yes, Alec. I have a job. A real, paying, permanent job! Wowee! In a month I can start paying my share of our costs.”

“Congratulations, my love. Any details? Where, for example?”

“The academy where Phemie teaches; I am to be in charge of the canteen, and I have decided I am going to change its name to a restaurant, to make it seem more up-market, just for a start.”

“Just The Restaurant? Why not a specific title, such as Fiona’s Food Place?”

“Oh, yes, I see. But what happens when I leave and someone else takes over?”

“Then they can change the name to what they prefer: simple. I was thinking that the staff and pupils can talk of eating at Fiona’s. It sounds so much better and more familiar than ‘the canteen’.”

“True. You are not just a craggy face, Alec!”

I grabbed her close to me and smacked her bum lightly. “I’ll ‘craggy’ you, my sweet. I am handsome, let me tell you.”

“Okay..., handsomely craggy suit you?”

“A lot better, love. You agree, Phemie darling?”

“An improvement, no doubt. I admittedly like the look of your face, no matter what we decide to call it; but not just your face. Every part of you is fascinating, including the bit that joins you to us girls.”

Fiona looked astonished at Phemie’s words, but nodded as she took it in. She decided to go for broke, and added, “Fucking good, that bit!”

I chuckled, “My God! You girls are getting into the happy banter of being wives, in a big way, aren’t you?”

Phemie told Fiona, “And Alec has explained why, for his own safety, he can’t formally marry either of us, Fiona.” As Fiona’s face fell, she continued, “He has to remain anonymous until the threat to his life is put away. Instead, we will pretend we got married, and act accordingly; have everything except the wedding certificate.”

Fiona said wonderingly, “I was thinking about how he might marry us both, earlier, now that I am a working girl. We could pretend to get married abroad, but that would involve another certificate, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” I voiced my agreement. “There are records everywhere, nowadays, as it involves registering the marriage at the local embassy or consulate in the foreign country. Records rule the world, so it is simpler and safer to assume the wedding happened and act as if it was so. Have you ever known anyone asking to see a wedding certificate as proof that someone married? It is almost unheard of, thank God. They just look at the wedding ring, and conclude the rest.”

The girls stopped to let this sink in, and I gathered them both into my arms. I kissed each in turn and gave them hugs. “By God, I am a lucky man!” I announced to the world.

They grinned happily, and hugged me back. Phemie spoke first. “We are even more lucky. I found you by accident at that cafe, and Fiona then found out we were a couple, and decided to join us. We are all lucky people!”

That might have led us to loving in bed, but our dinner was waiting for us, so we ate together instead, taking every opportunity to touch each other fondly as we moved around the kitchen laying things out.

Fiona said to me at one point, “I am going to have to discover how you soldiers eat when you are on duty. You can’t be subsisting on ration packs all the time.”

“Mostly, we do, nowadays, as the ration packs provide a well-balanced diet to keep you healthy. Compare that to Crimea in 1856, where more British soldiers were admitted to the British hospital at Scutari with scurvy than were admitted with battle wounds. The food provision at the time was abysmal and not well-planned or even delivered on time. A large supply of lime juice had been sent to prevent scurvy, but it sat on the docks for months as the general in charge of supplies felt it was not his job to tell the troops it was there!

That was the era of senior positions being filled by the rich and nobility, who had no real knowledge of war fighting and had never been a lowly soldier to experience the problems of the common soldier.

War, to the top officers, was moving units around as if on a map. The crazy Charge of the Light Brigade, so feted as heroism, was in fact a monumental cock-up through lack of good intelligence and faulty transmission of confusing orders by leaders who seldom knew what was happening.”

“So you stick to ration packs?” said Fiona, ignoring my rant.

“Mostly, but they can be a bit boring. When we find ourselves near U.S. troops, they have the same attitude to their own ration packs, so we take every opportunity to swap packs, just for the change of menu. Okay, so there are ten menus available for our ration packs, including a vegetarian one, but it still gets boring. These are active guys who sometimes have to hang around for days doing nothing much interesting, so food is important in their lives.”

Fiona looked intrigued. “Has no-one suggested a changing range of ration packs? It should be possible to have three or four alternatives to these ten menu groups, so that on alternate months you get a different set of ten.”

“Probably, but the opinions of a squaddie are seldom taken into account. The opinions of higher-ups are much more listened to, and they don’t have to eat these packs; they’re officers, you see; they get better grub on the whole.”

“But you said you were an officer, Alec!”

“Yes, but I started off being with the men, the troopers or operators as they are called, eating their rations with them. There is no better way to bond with your men, as sharing the same food. You are not behaving as if you were superior apart from your rank. The SAS in particular disregard rank when in the field. It is all about everyone doing their job well, not what rank you hold. All of the men in a unit each have specialist knowledge, essential elements for any job they get tasked with.”

Phemie interrupted to ask, “So, Fiona, what is your plan to improve the catering at the academy?”

Fiona stopped to think. “I am not 100 per cent certain yet, but I have generalised aims. Add more condiments to prevent the meals being so bland, but do it slowly so there is not a sudden jump that might put off customers with sensitive palates. That blackboard has to go and be replaced with a digital display unit that we can change at a moment’s notice to reflect a menu item being sold out, or a change in pricing. I want the menu to be slightly different every day, so that the main course choice varies between pork, chicken, beef, or pasta, or two of them, with a vegetarian option on the menu every day. The present menu is almost static, as far as I have seen it. Possibly this is a reflection of a temporary lack of a leader.”

Phemie asked her, “Can you order a digital display board and pay for it later? I think they are quite expensive.”

“The Rector said that was how they made their purchases. The bill gets passed to the council’s finance department for them to pay, and the finance staff negotiate better prices by putting the supply out to tender. It is the Rector’s job to keep within his yearly budget, but it is the school secretary who actually keeps an eye on the accounts, and warns him if the total is getting near the limit.”

I laughed at the picture she painted. “It is even more convoluted with the army’s logistics, and that is why we have had problems with officers illegally disposing of materials and equipment, for their own benefit. It was one of these cases that I got involved with; and why I was nearly killed after exposing the theft.”

Phemie remarked, “Oh, another case of a whistleblower being treated as an enemy for exposing corruption. Just shows you that such crimes are often aided by collusion with the authorities.”

I replied, “Anyway, it has nothing to do with you girls. It is my problem, and I have someone who is helping me deal with it; just don’t ask.”

That settled the discussion, and we concentrated on ourselves and the jobs that my ladies now had. Phemie got the promotion she expected, and found she now had a small budget for outside speakers to be paid, or at least reimbursed for their trouble. Fiona also found out what her budget was for the catering department, and was pleased to know that it was the overall amount that mattered. She could adjust the amounts for ingredients, repairs and maintenance, and other costs. It was only the staff costs that were fixed, as they were based on national pay scales. All she had was a small leeway for bonuses if excellence showed such a bonus to be worth giving. That was all she needed to start a staff bonus scheme where if an idea is put forward and gets accepted, a bonus is payable. Fiona hoped that some of the suggestions might lead to savings or improved income that could be put back into the bonus scheme. I got the idea, but I wanted to wait and see if it worked in practice. She said she learned about such schemes in her college course, and they seemed to work.

Two weeks later, Phemie informed me that her doctor had declared her to be pregnant. I was surprised, as I thought self-test kits did this, but she scoffed, “These are not perfect every time, so I prefer to have the G.P. do his own tests; and anyway, it now means you are going to be a father again.”

“And I am delighted, Phemie! We are going to have to start looking for a larger home, as with Fiona here we have no more rooms to turn into a nursery.”

“Yes, dear; I said this before, about a larger home, but it will become more urgent as the months go on.”

This made me review my own finances, wondering how to move large amounts from one account to another elsewhere, without losing interest and without leaving a paper trail to my present whereabouts. That reminded me of the substantial amount of money I had invested in community windfarms in the squallier areas of the UK: tens of thousands in each scheme ... They give me a good return with minimal risk, as well as being good for the planet’s future. I thought I could withdraw my investments from these without any real losses and get the cash paid direct to my active bank account without much in the way of recording of my name. It should simply be an amount repaid to the investor’s nominated bank account, earlier than anticipated. A sum paid to a bank account number reveals nothing of importance.

My records of my investments are in a bank storage box. These are much more secure now after the major break-in some years ago. The bank that owned the vault had trouble identifying the losses, as they had no information on each box’s contents. Only the owner knew what was held in each box. Now, a sealed list of contents is placed in another storage unit away from the original. The owner simply provides the list in a sealed envelope to the bank, and that envelope is then stored as the reference in case of emergency, and otherwise it remains the responsibility of the owner.

I needed to consult my own documents in my box to confirm my shareholding in each of these projects, and the totals of my investments.

It was now that I missed having easy access.

I had to visit the safe deposit vault, be recognised as the owner of the box, but not be visible as myself. If I arrive with the key of the box, that identifies me to the bank, but I must slightly disguise myself from any security cameras there or outside. Simple disguise is often the best. Wax pencil to add lines in my face to make me look older, and some whitening in my hair to add years to my person, may be enough, but combined with slightly old-fashioned clothing, that should make me appear middle-aged.

Before I could get that arranged, I got another cryptic phone call from Smith.

“Jones? Your former nemesis needs a warning, so I believe that a nocturnal visit to his home, leaving evidence of your ghostly presence, would fit the bill. When would you be available to perform this invisible operation? I can supply the transport to his house and back, and my sources say that his burglar protection is minimal.”

I replied without hesitation, “Almost at once. I would enjoy a touch of retribution. How about a providing a plan of the park with ‘X marks the spot’ on it, and I can scrawl over it ‘I refuse to stay dead. Beware.’ How does that suit you, Smith?”

“My, my! You are still smarting from that attack, I see. Such a proposal indeed fits in with my plans. I just need a stimulus in his posterior, and your idea will be perfect for achieving that. I shall supply the park plan, with text. The house is empty at present, I believe, so any noise should not be noticed – not that I expect you will create any noise! I propose tomorrow at nine p.m. for your taxi to arrive. That fine with you?”

“Yes. I can live with that timing, if there is no rain at the site.”

“No rain expected. Expected time to target, one hour ten minutes. Nine p.m. it is. Goodbye.”

I warned the girls that I would be away on another night-time task, one I could not talk about. They recognised that this was what I got paid for, so if they expected me to provide for their future children, they should refrain from comment.

The taxi arrived as planned, and the driver handed over an envelope containing the park plan and motif. “No-one has touched this paper unless wearing gloves, the boss says, so it is your DNA that will be on it, if he bothers to get it tested.”

He also pointed out the segmented long pole laid on the back seat. “That is for your high jump over the target’s boundary fence. The boss says you are able to use it.”

“Quite true, though few people are aware of that expertise of mine.”

“Clearly Smith does. He appears to know your expertise; probably all your talents.