“So how did you meet him.”
“Shortly after University as it happens. He’s always wanted to be a spy you know? But because of his little secret, the firm has always rejected him. We met up one wet evening in a pub in East London, and it all started from there. Unofficially, he was a very useful chap, feeding me anything that he thought would be helpful. His father the late Lord Asquith, knew many powerful people and of course introduced Oliver to them as a matter of course. I was carving my way up the ladder at MI5; imagine, to have someone like Oliver in my pocket, and in his position was worth its weight in gold. We’ve been friends ever since.”
The Mercedes came to a silent halt at the side entrance of the Ferran & Cardini International building. The two men arranged to meet for lunch at one o’clock, at which time LJ would confront his friend as to the exact location of U-683 and afterwards drop Nathan off at the city Heli-port for his return flight to Jersey. Guy Roberts drove the retired Royal Navy Commander back to the apartment so that he could pack, and have the rest of the morning free to do a spot of shopping at his favourite store, Harrods.
Outside the sun was shining when Nathan Cunningham came down the front steps of the Belgravia apartment building. He decided that the quarter mile walk to Harrods would do him good, and help clear the headache that he’d had since leaving Oliver Asquith’s office. It was good to be back in the city, he thought. The sounds and smells all so familiar to him as he strolled along without a care in the world, and thinking how well things were going. At the pedestrian crossing, he pushed the button and a moment later, the traffic light changed to red and he stepped off the pavement. He didn’t see the black BMW saloon coming from his right, start to slow down and then accelerate again, in one smooth action. Nathan Cunningham was half way across the road when he was hit by the oncoming vehicle, thrown high up over the bonnet into the air, and landed heavily at the side of the road.
Inert and unconscious, his body landed awkwardly some fifteen feet up the road. A passer-by, that had witnessed the accident, went to the nearest phone box, and dialled the emergency services. An ambulance was dispatched from the nearby City Hospital, and arrived two minutes later. Twenty feet up the road, the BMW stopped, and the driver took one brief moment to glance up into his rear view mirror, before driving off up the road towards Sloane Street, which as usual was busy with mid morning city traffic. The black car disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Chapter Four
In Jersey, Annabelle Cunningham walked down the hill to the café, and went up the steps to the front terrace where holidaymakers and locals alike, were leisurely sitting and having a mid morning coffee. As she made her way to the rear of bar area, Kate Jackson came out of the kitchen holding a tray in her hands; she looked over and smiled.
“Annabelle, am I glad to see you, we’ve been rushed off our feet ever since we opened, the sunshine seems to have brought everyone out to Bonne Nuit today. Have you heard from Nathan yet?”
“No, but that’s not surprising. Especially when he meets up with his friend LJ in London, he completely loses all track of time. He said that he’d phone just before flying back. Which should be just after lunch today. I dare say that if he’s got a spare moment this morning he’ll be doing a little shopping at Harrods, of that I’ve got no doubt.”
Annabelle’s mobile phone started to ring. The small screen showed her the number of the person who was calling, and she smiled instantly. “So you eventually found the time to call me then,” she said sarcastically.
Annabelle walked to the back of the bar where it was quieter. The smile that was there a moment ago had disappeared, and she suddenly slumped down on to a nearby chair.
Kate put down the tray that she had been carrying, and went over to where her friend was sitting. “What is it, Annabelle?”
“There’s a policewoman ringing me from Pop’s mobile phone in London,” Annabelle said quietly. “He’s been involved in a hit and run accident and is in hospital in a coma. They’re saying that he’s in a critical condition.” Tears started to roll down her cheeks and then she started to cry helplessly.
Kate took the phone from her. “Hello, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” the voice was soft but professional. “I’m very sorry if I upset Miss Cunningham. Unfortunately there’s never an easy way to do this.”
“Please don’t apologise, after all you’re only doing your job.”
“Look, we have Mr Cunningham’s wallet and of course his mobile phone, but would it be possible to find out where he was staying in London?”
“Staying? Yes, just a minute.” Kate crouched down beside Annabelle. “The Police want to know where Nathan was staying in London.”
Annabelle, absent mindedly pulled a small piece of paper out of her bag, and handed it to Kate who read out the details to the Policewoman.
It was just before twelve o’clock, when Edward Levenson-Jones received the telephone call from the Police. Informing him that his friend was in a critical condition at the City Hospital intensive care unit. On the way there he telephoned the Chief Constable of the Metropolitan Police and called in a favour, by asking for a complete press blackout of the incident. He told him that Nathan Cunningham had been a Royal Navy Commander. Who for many years had been involved in many joint intelligence missions, and that he thought the accident may be connected to possibly something from the past or an extremely sensitive matter that Ferran & Cardini had been asked to look into by Commander Cunningham.
“Edward, one of my constables has spoken briefly to his Daughter in Jersey. She’s obviously upset, but said that she will fly over this afternoon.”
“Thank you, I’ll take care of her when she arrives.” LJ broke the connection, as Guy Roberts pulled up outside the hospital.
The intensive care unit was extremely busy when LJ walked into the outer reception area. A nurse came out and escorted him to a small side ward, which had harsh fluorescent lighting that bounced off the white specially lined walls. There was only the one bed in the room, which Nathan was laying in. To one side of him there was a machine to assist with his breathing and another monitoring his heart rate. He had tubes coming from his mouth, arm and another that was draining excess fluid from his right lung, punctured by one of the three ribs broken when the vehicle struck him.
Outside the room a Policeman stood guard, his orders were to stay there and to only phone the Chief Constable the instant Nathan became conscious. A tall thin man came in wearing a smart navy blue pin striped suit and a stethoscope around his neck. He introduced himself as the consultant surgeon in charge of Nathan.
“And you are?” He asked LJ in a clipped tone. “Edward Levenson-Jones, Commander Cunningham is my friend and was staying with me while on business here in London.”
“Well your friend, Mr Levenson-Jones, is a very lucky man. He’s in a state of coma, common in severe head trauma cases of this kind. It’s the brain’s way of coping with it all. I believe he has a daughter. Has she been informed?”
“Yes, and she’s flying up from Jersey this afternoon.”
“Good, the sooner she gets here the better. I’ll speak with her when she arrives then.”
“He is going to be alright?”
“Only time will tell, Mr Levenson-Jones. Only time will tell. Goodbye.” He turned, and left the room as quickly as he had arrived.