The Yellow Jacket

The Yellow Jacket

 

Act 1

He was not an outstanding man to look at in any way shape or form. Most people would describe him as an average looking sort of person. He stood five foot ten and was of medium build. Today he was dressed in slacks and wore his shirt over the top of his trousers. His blue parka jacket was well worn and remained unbuttoned showing his cream-coloured cotton shirt, which was buttoned all the way up, except for the top button. He walked with a light wooden cane although he did not appear walking impaired. His hair was slightly unkempt and was a mousy brown colour. His ethnicity was that of white Caucasian. This though said nothing about his nationality or even his background. To most he would appear to be a man, who had not done too well in his life. No one would assume that he owned a massive property or have the financial ability to buy and sell on the stock markets. That was fine as far as the man was concerned because it meant that he could walk through life with complete anonymity. He would never make eye contact with anyone, nor would he engage in conversation unless on the odd occasion that he was directly spoken to. Then he would normally say something like

“I don’t know” or just shrug his shoulders and continue walking on. His life was as a speck of flotsam in the ocean, of those that walked through the streets of London, on their daily routine from point A, to point B.

It was true that he did not own a fine house, although that did not mean that he was homeless. He lived for the last year or so in Brompton Road, London. It had the postcode of SW3 1HY. This was in one of the most expensive areas of England’s capitol city, Chelsea. Here was where millionaires lived and if you were an 18-year-old, then your parents would buy you a Porsche or perhaps even a Ferrari. Although those that were not quite millionaires, would probably just settle on a new Range Rover Evogue.

This though was not the life that he had. He did own a couple of cars, which he kept in long term car parks, that were scattered around the city. He would use these, on the rare occasions that he had to leave the city. Like the way, he dressed, his transport was decidedly average. The cars were both silver in colour and both were about 10 years old. The cars were a VW Passat and a Vauxhall Astra. Both cars were extremely popular in the UK and these would blend in perfectly when driven in and around the capitol. About one Year ago, he had acquired a short-range video scrambler, through a friend of a friend, the sort that don’t ask questions. He could at any time of his choosing, literally scramble the feed from these cameras, that continually watched the streets of London. That said he would only use this device when he had selected his next target.

There was a time he had been a respected man. He had worked tirelessly for the UK’s Government, on one project or another. He had been fundamental in the discovery of a new and successful treatment of some types of cancer, that was before they had taken his work away from him.

Before that time and just after he had left University, when his desire to help mankind had been all he craved. After qualifying as a Medical Doctor, he had taken a post with the voluntary organisation, Médecins Sans Frontière, or Doctors Without Borders as it was more commonly known, and he had chosen to work in the Philippines. It was here he had first come across the Vespa Luctuosa.

This insect had been responsible for hundreds of deaths over recent years in the Philippines. It was while working in a small rainforest medical centre, he had tried to save the life of a young girl. She had been brought in screaming and in excruciating pain. The local medical translator tried to explain just what the girl was feeling. He stated that she had been burned inside. Yet he, as a Doctor, could see no burn or even broken skin. The girl continued to thrash about and was beating at her skull with her fists. He had instructed the nurse, to tie the girl’s arms and legs to the gurney with bandages to stop her beating and harming herself further.

The Doctor managed to get a drip into the young girl’s arm, which gave her Paracetamol in liquid form. Still the child screamed. The Doctor injected some morphine into the catheter, and it did reduce the screaming for a few minutes, then once again she started howling and moaning. The translator informed him, ‘the girl said her whole body was on fire’. Still she banged her head up and down as well as thrashing it from side to side. As a doctor, he could increase the amount of morphine, but as he did not know what was causing the girls terrible suffering, he was reticent in doing so. Suddenly the girl’s body arched backwards and the was the sound of some of her ribs parting ways with the rest of the ribcage. Her Eyes rolled back in her young skull and she let out a final moan, before she simply died in her anguish and pain. For her it had not been an easy death. The young Doctor had seen people die before, but not like this. The child’s parents were obviously distraught.

Between the interpreter and the Doctor, the girl’s father said, ‘that she had eaten apple and there had been, what he thought to be a wasp in it’. She had been stung and she thought the wasp had died, but then a lot of other wasps had chased her. The father had not seen any of this, so it was just second-hand information, which he had initially gleaned from his distraught daughter. As a young and newly qualified doctor, he was not able to perform a post-mortem and there were no others within a day’s drive, who could. Consequently, he released the body back to her father and went about his normal medical duties.

Some weeks later however, he had been called to a small settlement, upriver from where the medical centre was located. The radio message which had been passed onto him, was that ‘several people in a village had been stung by some form of bee’ and they needed immediate medical help.

He had arrived at the village some two hours later and been directed towards some very basic housing made from wood and tarpaulin, though he could have found his way there from hundreds of yards away. It was the sound of a child in extreme pain and terror. There were women wailing as well, though theirs was because to the children’s plight, rather than any physical pain on their part.

Upon entering the shack to which he had been directed towards. There were three children laid out on small webbing beds. Two had obviously succumbed, to whatever the third child was suffering with. The child was constantly clutching at his arms and legs, upon which they had some minor looking red blotches. There was almost no swelling around these areas. One of the men in the rooms said in broken English, that the children had been playing in the tall grass at the side of the village and had been chased by a swarm of bees or hornets, perhaps even wasps, but that the insects had come out of the ground. This man said that the children had then jumped into the river, the same river that the doctor had just arrived on, to get away from the insects. After the children, had come out of the water, the parents had taken them into this hut. Two of the children had died over an hour ago.

The farmer who owned the field of tall grass, pleaded with the young doctor to save the child. And to kill the pain that they were in. If it was an allergic reaction to a bee or wasp sting he too out a pre-loaded up a syringe with 0.5ml of 1:1000 epinephrine, in the hope of saving the child. After 15 minutes, it should have shown signs of working, but still the child was in agony. He looked on in sadness, knowing full well that this child would go the same as the others had done. Their small and young bodies, unable to fight of the painful venom of this insect.

Over the next year, the young doctor worked on a specific antivenom for this wasp, whenever he was not working on his normal duties, he worked on synthesising and developing his serum. Finally, he managed to get it to work at least in the laboratory and had planned to make it in such quantities to hand out to local medical centres and first responders. He knew his true calling to medicine now.

About three weeks later, he was once again called out to the same Philippine village. This time it was a toddler of a wealthy farmer. Yet again the child was in mortal agony and would die for sure. The doctor had in his medical bag, a small quantity of antivenom. Although it had not been tested on humans. He knew it worked on the rats that he had let the local wasp sting. However, he was unsure if it would work on any human, yet alone a child as small as this. It was also illegal, what he was planning on doing. The choice was losing the child or commit a theoretical crime. There was a risk it would harm the child further, but it was a better risk than doing nothing. He loaded a small quantity, about five times as much as he had previously used on the rats, and then prayed to God that it would work. The child screamed louder, as he inserted the needle into the most prominent cephalic vein in the child’s left arm. Then he pushed gently on the hypodermic plunger and the clear liquid entered the toddler’s bloodstream. There could only be two real outcomes to his actions. And he would have to wait for either.

After 30 minutes the child’s screaming dulled down to a whimper and then a gentle sob. The doctor waited at the side of the cot with the parents looking on from the other side. Three hours later the toddler was breathing slow and steady. The mother was on her knees praying and saying, the doctor was a miracle worker, because no child as young as this, had ever survived a sting from this specific species of wasp from the Philippines. The father had offered to give the farm and all the wealth he had. He produced a bag filled with thousands of US Dollars. The young doctor refused the money and said that he was so happy, just to be able to save the child. They promised to keep in touch with each other. The Doctor and the man were destined to meet many years later.

A year or so after this incident the young Doctor had returned to England and went back to university, to do a degree in Entomology, with the emphasis on venomous insects. After three more years, he had completed his degree. Then it was back to medicine and an extra two years in immunology and Toxicology.

It was around this time that he had been approached by Medical Research Council based at Porton Down. They had offered him a laboratory and a complete research team. This was to help find cures for cancer as well as to provide antidotes to various toxins. Many of these substances did not have names just code letters and numbers. He had excelled and was then asked to look at more efficient ways, of harvesting venom from a multitude of animals and insects. He had been working on level five toxins which involved a quite a lot of security not just for the research, but because he was involved in the production of the various toxins and poisons for use at the other facility at CDE Porton, the military one.

He now had pretty much unlimited access, to any equipment he wanted, as well as to all species of venomous critter in the world. This research took him back to his early days in the Philippines. He had mentioned this to the council and asked if it would be possible, to have several Hornets and Wasps, to milk them of their venom. When asked which species, he wished he simply replied.

“All of them”

Act 2

One year into his research, he found that both the Asian Hornet and the European Social Wasp venom, was extremely useful in attacking and even destroying, certain cancerous cells. It was especially useful in the treatment of prostate cancer and bowel cancer, as well as cervical cancer. The active enzyme, which was effective against cancer cells, was just one part of what made up the venom. The venom first broke down the outer wall of the cell, before destroying the nucleus of that cell. It had been an accidental discovery as many cures have been.

Originally before working at CDE, the doctor had been researching as to why the Yellow Jacket sting, was so painful and in doing so, they had discovered an enzyme in the venom, which attacked the red blood cells in the same way. After following the blood stream and extending the pain, by leaching out into the nerve endings. It would then signal the damage up the central nervous system to the brain, with the message that part of the body where the insect had stung, was severely injured, hence it generated the pain to match the signal. Now they had a partial cure to cancer, this would be the discovery of the century.

Finally, he knew that all his work, would not have been in vain. Mankind would forever remember his discovery. In future years, he would be as famous, medically speaking, as Alexander Fleming, or Marie Curie. This was the holy grail of medicine. This discovery would be almost impossible to calculate the monetary value of. It was way beyond quintillions he knew that, but he would give it to the world for free. He could now set up his own Medical laboratory and choose the research that he wanted to do. His mind had begun to race, with all the other cures that he could offer mankind. Later the authorities would enquire, was this the specific point, where the doctor’s sanity had left him.

When he had first tried to speak openly, they had reminded him, that he had signed the official secrets act. Then when he tried to take his research with him one day, they had pointed out that it was the MRC, that owned all the patents to anything that he had created. They owned the cure to cancer. The Medical Research Council, said that it could not just be launched into the world as a miracle cure, they first would have to run selective and deep testing, on one form of cancer at a time.

The following day when he arrived at the CDE Porton Down he found that his pass had been cancelled and that there were a pair of large gentlemen waiting for him. They bundled him into their Toyota RAV4 and drove him back to his home in Swindon. After first tying him to kitchen chair, they searched his house. They found and removed all his text and notebooks. His desk-top computer and even his mobile phone. Before leaving they beat him up and deliberately broke the gas pipe to his cooker, leaving him battered on the floor. He was destined to die a horrible death, in some supposed ‘accident’.

Unbeknown to the men, who had done this to him and even unknown to the doctor himself. By sheer chance or perhaps bad luck. Another man had been in the house before they had arrived. A young man who made his living, by breaking into homes and robbing them of small valuable items. These possessions he would then sell on to unscrupulous second-hand shops, jewellers, and the like. All the young man had been able to snatch, before he heard the key turning in the door of the house, was the Doctors laptop and a few flash drives from a drawer. He had been in the process of searching the upstairs bedrooms when the doctor and his two escorts had entered.

The burglar barely made it under a bed in one of the rooms. Quickly he pulled the cover of the bed down until it touched the floor. One man had entered the room and had gone about emptying the drawers and wardrobes. Initially he had thought that these men, were from some criminal gang or another, then when he heard them beating the doctor up, he assumed that this must be a bad debt gone wrong and the two men had been sent to get the money back, one way or another.

He had waited under the bed too frightened to breathe or even move, until he heard the front door open and then close again. It was only then he slid out from hiding place, under the bed. He raced down the stairs and was going to go out the back door of the kitchen, so as not to be seen by the two men or anyone else that might be around the front of the house. As soon as he opened the kitchen door, he was almost choked by the unmistakable smell of gas. The next thing he noticed was the doctor lying bloody and beaten, on the floor of the kitchen. He was still alive and still tied to the overturned chair. Just then the doctor regained consciousness.

“Help me please” The doctor had said.

The burglar was just going to leave him to sort himself out when he changed his mind. It had become obvious to him also, that the men who left, intended to let the man on the floor die either by choking on gas or in some terrible explosion. He untied the doctor and was helping him out of the doorway when it happened.

There was an old toaster on the worktop, which they had some bread stuffed into its slots. The temperature settings along with the timer, had been turned up to maximum and switched on. Initially there was smoke from the top of the toaster and then a single small red ember of burnt bread, floated up into the gas filled kitchen, then a flame licked over the top of the electric toaster. There was a whooshing noise followed by a sudden and thunderous explosion, this was followed almost instantaneously, by a sudden intake of oxygen filled air, to feed the flames. That completed the cycle of everything that was required, for the mammoth explosion, oxygen, flammable gas, and a spark. The windows and door at the back of the house, were blown out and at the same time the roof of the house, moved upwards a mere six inches before crashing back down, through the bedroom floors. The Doctor felt an enormous gust of superheated air, pass by him. The burglar had taken the brunt of the explosion and the resulting fireball on his back. This unknown and selfless act had protected the doctor from the worst of the explosion, as the rubble of his home fell all around him and rained down on top of his saviour. It was now only two or three seconds since he had been thrown clear of the doorway, before he could stand up and go to the assistance of his good Samaritan.

The man was dead that much was clear, even if he had been a surgeon rather than a doctor. A large chunk of brickwork, from the collapsing chimney breast of the building, formally known as his home, had landed on the Samaritans back and head. The burglar was far beyond any medical help.

Strangely the doctors Laptop, was still clasped in the thief’s hand. The doctor took it, it was damaged, but perhaps its internal hard drive, was salvageable. Then he rummaged in the pockets of the burglar and came away with three USB Flash Drives, he put them in his own pockets. The doctor was not going to hang around for the Police or the Fire Brigade. As far as his ex-employers were concerned, they wanted him dead that much was sure, so he would now be dead. The doctor removed his father’s white gold Rolex watch from his own wrist, and put it on the dead man’s, the watch had been a gift when he first qualified as a doctor. After this he took out his wallet, slipping that, into the back pocket of the burglar. He even left the fifty-five pounds, he had just this morning, drawn from the bank, along with all his bank cards, and driving license.

With luck, due to the security clearance and ID still in his wallet. the local police would contact CDE and they would send their security people down, who having orchestrated the murder, would just formally identify the body. They in turn, would state that it was that of Dr James Pearson Research Scientist late of The Medical Research Council at Porton Down. They had stolen his research; they had stolen his cures and now they had his life. He would build a new life and then he would extract his revenge. First though he had to find a place to hide out and it could not be local.

Fortunately, Swindon, does not have the volume of cameras that London does. Being careful to avoid those he could and keeping his hat brim pulled down when he could not avoid them, the doctor made his way to the railway station and caught the first train to London. He knew of only one man, who he could trust with his life and with the secrets of what he was about to do.

Act 3

He made it to London with no problems and then made the phone call, to an old and trusted friend. He still had a few coins in his coat pocket. He inserted the cash into the telephone booth dialled the mobile number he had been given, when they had renewed their friendship again just a couple of years back.

Alejandro Del Rosario had been a wealthy farmer when they had first met. The young doctor had saved his sons life. The son was now 13 and his father a very wealthy man. The farmer had sold all his land, to the large Spanish Hotel Conglomerate, Melia. They hotel giant, had chosen it simply because, his land had a beautiful white sand beach attached it. This was a prime location for their 5-star beach hotel. He he took the money and moved to the UK where he now lived in Chelsea.

The call was picked up after just three rings.

“Del Rosario residence, Ale speaking”.

“It’s me. You once said, if I ever needed anything just call you. Does that offer still stand? Also, before you answer, please do not use my name.”

“The offer I made, will always stand for you my dearest of friends”.

“Can you collect me from McDonald’s on Praed Street.”

“You are here in London? When would you like me to come?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, if you could please.”

“I will be there in 15 to 20 minutes”.

“Thanks” and the doctor hung up.

Life from now on, would be quite different. He would have to learn some new life saving skills. They would not be anything like the ones he had learned previous, but some of the knowledge he had amassed, would come in useful, especially for what he had in mind. He walked the short distance to McDonald’s, all the time keeping his head down and his trilby pulled low down over his eyes. Even in the fast-food outlet he deliberately made sure his face could not be seen on camera. He took his coffee and sat with his back to the counter and a wall to his side. He had a good view of the road outside.

A bright yellow Humvee pulled up outside and tooted its horn twice. The doctor looked at it but due to privacy glass, he could not see who the driver was. They horn blew again and this time the passenger window wound down, Ale’s hand waved, beckoning to the doctor. James stood up and walked directly out and into the passenger seat of the Humvee. Ale drove off as soon as the doctor was in, then he buzzed the window back up.

“Subtle Ale, real subtle! Was this the only colour they had when you bought it?”

“Is it too much? Do you think James?” Ale said with a smile, he then drove away and headed back into Chelsea, before continuing the conversation.

“It really is good to see you James, but I have to ask you, what kind of trouble are you in?”

“As always Ale good to see you also. As for the kind of trouble? I am not really sure, except that some people tried to kill me today and now hopefully they will think I am dead?”

“Why would they try to kill you and only think you are dead?”

“Because they accidentally killed another man, who they did not know was there and who really should not have been there.”

“Wont they know when they see the body?”

“Not really, as there was not much of a body left to see.”

“So how can I help you James?”

“Are you still involved in real estate?”

“Yes, I have several offices, in and around the Chelsea area”.

“I will need somewhere to hide Ale”.

“James, will you not stay with us? There is plenty of space in our house and it is very private.”

“Let us talk about it tonight, after one of your fine meals. If that is OK with you Ale?”

“OK, let’s get you there then” Ale answered.

He followed the road into the suburbs of Chelsea, until he came to a small driveway, which led to a set of very sturdy looking, solid wooden gates. They opened automatically as the car approached. Beyond the gates, there was a small gravel driveway, that went around a substantial botanical island and then under a large, covered entrance to the house. Ale parked the Humvee under this cover and led the way to the main double doors of the house. Inside was nothing like the farmhouse, which Ale had back in the Philippines. The parquetry flooring was stunning but only served as an introduction, to the gilded marble double stairway to the first floor. Ale led James into a room to the left of the splendorous stairs. Again, this room had double doors, that mirrored those at the front entrance. James noticed that there was a matching pair, to the other side of the impressive hallway. They entered the room, which Ale referred to as his ‘Office’ To James it more resembled a drawing room, of a gentlemen's club. He even had a Humidor section, at the far end, where looking at the selection of boxes, he had an assortment of cigars from around the world. An ornate fireplace took up almost a third of one wall, while the opposite wall was mostly glass. An immense desk made from what was either Brazilian Rosewood or something remarkably similar. It had a lustre that came with age and behind it sat a captain’s chair, upholstered in green leather.

“Have a seat please James” Ale said, as he motioned to a pair of matching green leather winged chesterfield chairs that sat next to the fireplace and an onyx and marble covered coffee table.

“Drink James?”

James had not thought how close he had come to dying until, that very moment and the shock of everything hit him all at once. He held his head in his hands and started to cry.

“I am sorry Ale, I don’t know what came over me, please forgive me.”

“James do not be afraid to show your emotions, to your friends. I remember how I cried like a child when you saved my son. Please, let your emotions pour out and when you have finished, perhaps you would like a drink?”

After his sobbing, had subsided, James wiped the tears from his eyes and then put his glasses back on.

“Harewood?” Ale asked.

“Sorry?”

“James my friend, you know I have a passion for fine rums. Well a friend of a friend of mine came across a bottle of ‘The Harewood Rum’ which was bottled in Jamaica for the Harewood estate here in England. Bottled from the cask in 1790. I would think it is probably ready for drinking by now?”

“Sounds Nice, but it also sounds awfully expensive.”

“I think my accountants, said something about it being worth around £80,000 and something else about it would double in price in five years if I sold it. But then if I did that, I would not have had the pleasure of having drunk it or being able to share with my closest friend. We should have a Cigar, to relax with it as well. I remember you had a good taste for cigars.” Ale said.

“I think you would need a least a Gurkha Royal Courtesan, to go with that. Mind you, I think they are harder to get than rocking horse shit” James replied.

“Your wish is my command James” Ale said

Then he walked down to the Humidor Room and returned with a pair of cigars in Gold tubes. He placed two crystal goblets on the coffee table and then uncorked the rum with a resounding pop. He sniffed the contents then with an approving smile, poured out a generous measure to each glass. After cutting the ends of the cigar he passed one to James, along with a cigar lighter. James puffed until the end was evenly lit and then dipped the other end into his Rum before sucking once more on the Cigar. Ale followed suit.

“You remembered James, A cigar soaked in rum, is a marriage made in heaven, so perhaps all is not bad in the world. We shall not speak of those things until we have finished our cigars and rum and then we shall see what can be done, about your predicament.”

Act 4

James relayed the events of the day and then got down to the reason for wanting his friend’s assistance.

“I need somewhere with space, that is far away from prying eyes and ears. Also, I am going to want it for some time Ale, it even may run into months, perhaps it could be years. I will also need some working capital, at least to begin with. I want to be able to set up a large laboratory, with a lot of equipment. I know that you somehow have managed to get on the good side, of some of London’s more nefarious personalities. Some of whom may require medical assistance, from time to time. The kind of treatment that they can’t easily get at hospitals or from their local GP.”

“James what are you insinuating?” Ale said with a smile.

“I know that as a new immigrant, coming into this part of London and setting up numerous businesses. At some point, you would have to pay somebody off and that somebody, would be a crook. Probably involved in organised crime. That sort of person does not go to Accident and Emergency at your local hospital, to have his knife or gunshot wound patched up. What I am asking is just make it known that you have a pipeline to a Doctor, that does not make medical notes or contact the authorities. As I have said I will also need a base to operate from, preferably away from prying eyes.”

“OK I can do that for you, and I do know of a building, that is away from people’s eyes. it might need some work doing to it, to make it suitable for you. In fact, it is just down the road from here.”

“When can I see it Ale?” James asked while sipping the last of his rum.

“Let us wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you will stay here.”

The following morning after breakfast, Ale and James set off in Ale’s, less conspicuous Range Rover. Ale was right, it was just 5 minutes down the road from his home. At first glance and from the outside, it looked to be a substantial three-story red brick, end of terrace, commercial building. Although it also looked a bit tired to the exterior. James pulled the hood up and over his head, on the grey sweatshirt, that Ale had given him to wear, after which they both got out of the car and walked to the front door of the building.

“Welcome to Brompton Tube Station. I had this on my books for a long time and finally sold it a year or so back to a Ukrainian oligarch for £30,000,000. He had all sorts of plans to make part of it a museum and shops and flats. But now it looks like he is planning to sell it on, as such I have the keys.” Ale said as he opened the black painted personal door.

The inside of the building was cavernous, and the sound was hollow. There were stairs to the upper part of the building, but Ale took him to another section and removed a large plywood sheet revealing a gated entrance with a large brass padlock on. He unlocked it and gave the key to James. Ale took a torch out of his pocket and pulled the gate open. James followed and then they started to descent the steps which seemed to go on forever. When they finally reached the bottom, Ale went to a red electrical switch box and pushed the lever up. There was a clunk, and some dim lights came on.

“This is the disused Brompton Tube Station. Its dry and has electricity and very few people even know it is here, as it closed in 1934. During the second world war, the Ministry of Defence took it on and used it as number the 26, Anti-Aircraft Brigade for London. Then after the war, it had a variety uses, until the 1970. Then the building was finally closed, and the escalators were removed. There are two lifts though and I think they still work; I know a man who could give you a proper electrical feed from the railway line the passes by this station. That way the Electric company would not come looking to see who is using this station now.”

James looked around the main corridor where they were standing. It was dirty but it had potential. The walls were covered with green and cream, ceramic glazed tiles. They would be easy enough to clean.

“The best parts are through here” Ale said, indicating that James, should follow him through a heavy steel door.

“This was the war room, during the second world war and then again for the University of London Air Squadron. As you can see it is a bit dusty and you may have a problem or two with rats, but it is a good size to set up your laboratory?”

“Ale it would be perfect, and you are sure no one comes down here? Not even tramps?”

“No tramps or neighbours and I am sure I can help you get rid of the rats. Follow me there are more rooms down off the main floor of this room” Ale said as they went down a steel staircase, to the floor of the actual war room.

There were half a dozen doors off from it. Two of the doors were half glazed and at one time or another, they would have had writing painted on them, but time had erased that. Both rooms were large offices one still had two large desks in. The other was full of old filing cabinets and chairs, along with other old office equipment. One of the other rooms, appeared to be a bunk house with a shower room and bank of toilets. The next room was empty, another room looked like it had been used as a kitchen and had sinks and stainless-steel tables. There were old gas boilers and a large stove, that looked to have been left there from the 1940’s. The final room that they looked at must have been the commander’s office. This really was a double sized room when compared to the other offices and it had been divided, making it into two smaller rooms. The first being an office area with another internal door, leading to the second interior room. Every room was filled with dust, old newspapers, and cobwebs, along with rat droppings.

“What do you think?” Ale asked while lighting a cigarette and offering one to James, who refused politely.

James could instantly see the see the potential. He knew he could do his work here, but he also knew, he could not complete the modifications and repair to the building on his own. He knew nothing about electricity or gas and water installation. He knew even less about structural engineering. Some of the equipment he would require, would have to come down on the lifts and they would first have to be made safe to work with. But if they could cross those bridges it would be perfect. No one would be able to see him working, better still there were no cameras in or around this building, apart from the ones that he would have installed.

“Perfect Ale but wont the building sell in the next year? I am afraid to say, I am at this point completely penniless”.

“Do not worry about money and I will have it sorted to your specifications, also I will make sure that all the offers are refused, or I could buy it?”

“I think it would be better that it remains on the market and officially unused, that way no from Chelsea Council one will come snooping. I will accept your offer of some help in fixing it up, Just the parts of the building that I need. Do you think you could help with that?

“James if I gave you all the wealth that I have, my debt to you could never be repaid. You will stay at my home until the building is sorted to your undertaking. I will make sure that only men I trust to keep a secret will do the work for me. I have been thinking. Why do you need to help criminals from the underworld? If it is just about money I can and will help you with that.”

“Ale, I want to make connections, because the things that I will be doing, I will want deflected away from me and onto others who deserve to be punished.”

“OK James I will not press you further, let us go back up and start organising things.”

They both climbed back up the steel stairs and then along the corridor, where Ale switched the electric lights off and the torch back on. Then they made their way back out, into the bright spring morning.

Act 5

The work took almost 9 months to complete Ale oversaw all modifications under the instructions from the James. Ale had put the word out that there was a doctor, who could fix injuries without asking questions. These consultations, he would do in the ‘Victims’ own home, or place of their choosing. Most were stab wounds or head wounds caused by being struck with something solid, like a wall or a baseball bat. Some though, were small calibre gunshot wounds. Some injuries he was called to, were beyond even his skills and the person would die, but they would die without pain. Payment for these services were to be in the form of favours owed. James had a little black book of names and the surgeries he had performed. Some of the bigger London gangs, were now coming to him on a regular basis, to treat one or more of their members. No one ever asked his name he was just referred to as ‘The Doctor’ and no one apart from Ale, would know what he was be doing down in the bowels of Brompton Road Tube Station.

True to his word Ale had fixed the ‘War Room’ and the surrounding rooms up to a high standard. New lighting and multiple electrical points had been installed along with a basic ventilation system that vented into the tube-ways. The kitchen was now equipped with a new gas cooker. Gas came from a series of LPG cylinders which were located up in the main lobby of the station and the gas pipped down. There were complete single and triple phase electrical circuits installed, with the power coming from, the adjoining tunnels of Knightsbridge Tube Station.

Ale had a new lift hoist installed in one of the two shafts. An air conditioning unit which took air from outside and then vented it back out into the disused tunnels. One of Ale’s men had installed a cold-water feed from a water main so now he had Gas, Electric, Water and fresh clean air for his Laboratory. He had spacious and quality living quarters. Wastewater was piped direct into the main underground sewers.

Ale had bought the small tobacconists shop next door to the tube station and knocked a doorway through from it into the main foyer of Brompton Road Tube Station. This meant that James did not have to use the main entrance, where any late-night comings and goings, might start to look suspicious. The man that Ale had let the shop too, was told he could have a free lease providing he asked no questions and allowed James to come and go as he pleased. James had installed a complete CCTV system with cameras both on the outside and on the inside of the disused tube station. Every entrance way was covered, including from inside the tobacconists.

The next thing he had to do; was to order all the laboratory equipment he would require. it was first sent to one of Ale’s other properties and then brought to into the station at night. Where it was left in the main foyer. James and Ale moved the equipment to the lift and then once down in the new laboratory installed it all. Finally, the time had come to set the wheels in motion, and for James to leave Ale’s home.

Act 6

The first supply the doctor required was wasp venom and a lot of it. Strangely it was not as difficult as he had thought it would be. The Social Yellow Jacket wasp is not uncommon in London. James looked in every local newspaper he could find and searched Facebook, for pest control companies. These were the people who would be his supply chain of live wasps. Many initially offered dead wasps as they gassed the nests. Soon however, there were a dozen or so pest control companies, who would now just bag up live nests and then call a burner phone, so that one of Ale’s men, could collect it in a van and then drop that bag off at Ale’s home. Either Ale would deliver to James, or James would then drive to Ale’s and enjoy a good cigar before collecting the wasp’s nest and taking it to the lab, where he would place the bag of wasps into a large glass room. This room had a double door with a positive air entry system. for safety

After milking all the stinging wasps of their venom, James would burn the wasp’s bodies and nests and then move on to the next bag. It took him a further 3 months to have accumulated almost 2 litres, of pure wasp venom. There were times when James himself, had been stung whilst collecting one of the bagged nests. The pain of the stings only gave him further impetus to continue his mission. He had made around 250ml of anti-venom, a loaded syringe of which, he always carried in a cigar case. This he kept in his pocket, just in the event of there being any accidents.

The British wasp was not as deadly as the Philippine species but the amount of yellow jacket venom, he would use, would balance this out. He had a plan, and he would need others to help in what he had to do. This is where those criminal contacts would come in. Ale had made sure that only those villains, who were connected to major criminal gangs, would get their personal Doctor. This way he was sure they would never talk to the authorities, for fear of being a snitch by their peers. If these men were caught, they would do the time and get their rewards, when they were released. For those that would have a longer jail term, then their families would be well looked after. The question now was, who would be first victim for retribution?

James and Ale had sat down in the ‘Office’ at Ale’s home and discussed when, where and who, would be the first. Then where it would all end, if everything went to plan. Initially no one would know what was happening, but James was sure at some point, people would realise that they were being targeted. This is when things would become much more difficult, to bring to fruition.

“I don’t know their names. All I know is they work as security guards for ‘The Medical Research Council’ at CDE Porton Down. I want to borrow some old cars, so that I can go down and not be noticed. I only want to use each car twice, while down there, do you think this is something that you can arrange?”

“Remember Mr Travis, you fixed his son up when he was stabbed. He owns a used car lot; you should call him.”

“Thanks Ale I will do that. Thank you for all your hospitality now I must go seek my revenge and reclaim my work. I may not see you for some time, but I will check in on a regular basis. I really do not know how to repay you for your generosity and help.”

“Before you go James let me give you a little something.” Ale said and walked outside to the front of his home with James at his side.”

There was a silver VW Passat. Sat next to Ale’s bright yellow Humvee.

“The engine has been changed and the suspension tightened up. It was an unmarked police car, but they sell them off after 5 or 6 years of use. I had my mechanic take out the 2-litre turbo diesel and replace it with 5.8 litre twin turbo petrol engine from an Audi. He also replaced the standard gear box with a seven speed, short-shift sports box. New anti-roll bars and wider low-profile tyres. From the outside, it looks quite normal inside it is not. It has a full anti roll cage the two front seats have been replaced with full bucket type. The driver’s seat has a full race cross harness seat belt. Oh, and I had my mechanic install a Dr Dre Sound System. Finally, if you open the glove box you will find a gift from one of our more felonious friends. There is a similar item is in a secret compartment on the driver’s door. That can be opened by pressing the electric wing mirror control button, rapidly three times.” Ale said as he held up a VW keyring which he gave to James. And then continued.

“Stay safe my friend”.

The Doctor took the keys and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Passat and then switched on the ignition. He buzzed down the privacy glass window and listened to the burble of the twin exhaust pipes and then the thunderous roar as he pushed down on the accelerator.

“Nice”

“By the way James I have fitted a sensor in the front so if you ever have to come in here fast the gates will automatically open for you.”

With that, they said their farewells and the Doctor drove up the driveway and the gates opened then closed behind him, he drove left towards London proper.

Act 7

He was on his way to find a man called Dean, who The Doctor had fixed a broken arm for, as well as stitching a four-inch knife wound about 5 months previously. Dean was going to help in the abduction and of the first victim of revenge. The Doctor did not even know his name of his would-be abductee all he knew was what this man looked like. Dean as it happened, was the man who father owned the used car place, just on the edge of Knightsbridge.

James drove to the edge of Brompton Road. He put enough money in the parking meter to last for 12 hours and walked to the Tobacconists shop before making the call. He dialled the number from memory and let it ring. It rang for about a minute and then disconnected. James stood and waited, he knew that someone from that number would call back, even if it was just to see how the caller had managed to get hold of the number. Sure enough, his mobile phone vibrated in his parka pocket. He answered it.

“Yes.”

“Who is this?”

“The Doctor. Who’s That?”

“It’s Mike, what ya want?” the voice said in a north London accent.

“Is Dean there?”

“Nah.”

“Then tell him, I will call back in five minutes” The Doctor said and closed his egg-shaped mobile phone.

It was not a smart phone just a small older style cell phone. You could do text on it but using its one-inch LCD screen was hopeless, so he never bothered with text. Besides, it was a sure way to trace things back to you. James had learned many skills over the last year and most of those skills were not that an honest person would use. He always kept his calls short, never storing anyone’s telephone number in the directory. And he would use a new SIM every call from now on. One of Ale’s friends had obtained 500 SIM cards, which was given in payment for some minor surgery that The Doctor had performed. He kept himself in the shadows outside the shop and waited. Five minutes had passed when James opened the phone redialled and put it to his ear.

“It’s Dean, you wanted me?”

“Yes, I need you and a car. Nothing flash, the more ordinary the better and bring some rope and some tape. Bring some gloves and a ski mask.”

“I am not a complete fucking beginner ya know.”

“See you at the tobacconists next to the old Brompton Road tube station, in 30 minutes.” he closed the phone again and then he entered the shop. The man behind the counter moved over to let The Doctor through and then went back to his duties. James went through the door and into the station entrance. Using a small torch, he walked over to the elevator and entered. The doors opened two floors down in his laboratory. Quickly James grabbed what he needed including a jar filled with a couple of hundred or so live yellow jacket wasps. Then he checked that he had his syringe of anti-venom in the cigar case, which was in the inside pocket of his coat. In his other pocket was a syringe loaded up with more than enough venom to kill a large man. There would be no going back after this night. Taking the lift back up, he retraced his steps back to the door at the tobacconists. After checking the camera showed no one in the shop, except for the shopkeeper he went back through the door and out to the front to wait the arrival of Dean.

A dark red Ford Mondeo pulled up at the kerb and Dean was in the driver’s seat.

“Get in” Dean shouted from the driver’s window.

The Doctor did and then gave Dean the address he wanted him to go to. The car pulled off and they headed towards the M25 ring road and then to Wilshire. The journey took just over two hours and in another two it would be 7am. That is when the day staff would start to arrive. Neither Dean nor The Doctor had spoken apart from giving the destination. They drove in virtual silence apart from listening to the radio. They were parked in a lay-by about 100 yards from the main gate to CDE Porton Down and The Medical Research Council. First, they would have to identify the man he wanted and then make a note of his car and registration number. They would follow him that night, to find out where he lived and then The Doctor was planning to make his own house call.

At 7:05am a white Toyota RAV4 slowed down at the gate and the man produced his ID Card before being let through and into the complex. They now knew, which car to follow at the cease of work, so they left and found a quiet spot to grab a few hours’ sleep. The Doctor asked Dean, to set the alarm on his Smart Phone. Which he did

“What are we doing here Doc?”

“Me I am getting a bit of revenge and you, well you are paying off a debt to me. By the end of today you and I will be even.”

“Just the one Job then?”

“Only one job for you Dean”

“Are there more Doc?”

The doctor never answered. He just closed his eyes and went to sleep. At 4pm Dean’s smart phone rang and woke them. Dean silenced the phone.

“What now Doc?”

“We drive back to Porton Down. Then we follow the big man home.”

“And then?” for you not a lot you are here as muscle to hold him down, if needs be”.

“And then?”

“Dean, its better if you don’t know and I thought you, would know better than to ask so many questions.”

“Just making conversation, was all.” Dean replied sulkily.

They drove back in silence again and then they waited, as the cars and the staff came back out the facility. At 5:15 the White Toyota RAV4 came out through the gate. Now though, there was a problem. There were two people in the car. The other big man, who had beaten James up almost a year ago, was sat beside his friend. Dean pulled out and followed them keeping his Mondeo between 3 and 6 cars behind. They pulled into Swindon and into the car park, of a pub called The Manor on Cheney Manor Road. Dean pulled in behind them and parked several places up.

“Wait here I will be back in a minute” James said as he exited the car.

The Doctor’s hair was a good length now and he no longer wore a suit. A change in style of glasses along with a good beard and moustache, even James did not recognise himself in the mirrored glass of the entrance way. Now there was little chance of either of the two men, recognising him. He just had to be sure, that the other man was also the same man, who had taken part in his beating and in the murder attempt on him, not to mention destroying his home. James walked up to the bar and ordered a drink.

“Pint of Larger and lime please”

The barman poured the pint and attempted to start a conversation.

“Not seen you in here before”.

“No I am just passing through”.

“Do you work down the road?” He asked referring to CDE/MRC Porton Down

“Just the pint please” James replied indicating that the conversation was dead.

“£3.40p Please” the barman said in a sultry tone.

James paid and moved over to the table, next to the one, where the two men had sat down with their drinks. He sat with his back to them. He recognised both their voices. It was them no doubt. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. It would mean a change in plan and Dean would have to be good at his job. Leaving his drink on the table, James made like he was going to the toilets instead he slipped out the front door of the pub and made his way back to Dean and the car.

“Let’s go”.

“Where?”

“Out of here turn left and wait about 50 yards down the road.”

“What makes you think they will go that way?”

“Simple, it’s rush hour and you don’t want to be waiting, to cross over to the other side of the road especially when there is a roundabout in another thirty yards down this road. They will be gong this way. Watch for them, and then follow.”

They waited, then almost half an hour later the RAV4 drove past, and over the roundabout. Dean pulled out and followed the Toyota. They seemed to be heading out of Swindon and into the countryside. A few minutes later they were on a single-track road.

“Did you bring the mask and baseball bat?”

“Yes”

“Where are they”.

“On the back seat”

“Gloves?”

“In my pocket”

“Put them on now”.

James put his gloves on and took out a black ski mask from inside his coat and put that on. Then he reached in behind to the rear seat and grabbed hold of the ski mask and bat. The ski mask he passed to Dean, who put it on. Now the bat was in James’s lap and both men had ski masks on as well as black gloves.

“Dean can you actually force them off the road, without actually hitting them with your car.”

“Does a Hen lay eggs? I used to drive for the Boss, back in the old days in London. That was back when the gangs would fight a turf war. On a road like this and without someone shooting at me, I can do that easy.”

Dean sped up and drove awfully close to the rear of the other car before speeding past when they pulled over. When they were out of sight of the other car Dean turned the car around and started to drive back the way they had come. Soon he saw in the distance, the glow of the other car’s lights, he increased the speed and drove in the middle of the road. James could see the bright headlights of the other car coming towards them.

“I bet they don’t play chicken often” Dean said and then added.

“But you might want to buckle in tight, just in case” He said while tightening his own seat belt.

The Doctor followed suit. The lights grew closer at an alarming rate. The other car flashed its lights wildly. Still Dean gave up no road as he sped towards them. Their lights continued to flash and then they heard the horn, just before they were going to crash into the Mondeo. James braced for the impending accident that never came. Instead the white car, shot up the bank at the side of the road before losing control and rolling into a farmer’s field. Dean slowed to a stop and then reversed down the quiet country lane, until he was level with where their car was.

James passed the baseball bat to Dean and then got out of the car. They walked to where the Toyota lay on its roof, with its wheels still spinning uselessly in the air. Both men were hanging upside down in their seats, still held in place by their seatbelts. The pair were disorientated, although neither appeared to be too severely injured.

The Doctor had taken his bag from the car as he exited. Not sure how much of this venom it would take to kill a man, he would now have to share the entire syringe between both men.

The driver of the RAV4, had a cut to his hand no doubt caused by the broken windscreen. Quickly the Doctor took out the syringe and injected half of it into

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.01.2021
ISBN: 978-3-7487-7086-2

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Just what would you do if someone stole your lifes work and what would you do to get it back. Now imagine the work is the golden bullet a cure for cancer.....What would that be worth?