“You cool bastard!” he exclaimed and then with a hearty laugh he assumed the time honoured position favoured by the inimitable Commander James Bond and said “the name’s Bailey; Colin Bailey!”
The corridor and staircase he discovered outside his door didn’t disappoint. He descended to the ground floor, admiring paintings of naval battles and personnel with each successive step. He strode purposefully along the pale marble floor towards the nearest door on the lower level; the delicate aromas that enticed him on further only served to heighten his appetite. He entered the room to find the elderly gentleman, whom he assumed to be his host, in conversation with three men and a rather striking looking woman.
They turned towards him. The elderly gentleman approached Colin and taking his arm he led him back to join the group.
“I think formal introductions can be dispensed with for the time being. Your reputation precedes you old chap, so we all know you and how efficient a killer you are. Quite frankly, that’s why you’re here. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk about that side of things in due course. For now, all you need to know is that we five share a common goal and this estate is the centre of our operations. You have been selected as the ideal candidate to join The Olympus Project and bring a swift conclusion to any direct action we decide is necessary in the cesspit that passes for a civilised world outside the confines of this estate.”
While the old man was talking, a handful of waiters slipped quietly into the room and started to carry the contents of the dishes from the long side table in order to serve up a sumptuous luncheon for the six potential diners. Colin couldn’t help noticing that the waiters on duty were all men in their late thirties to mid forties and had a military bearing. In fact, the manner in which they moved and conducted themselves suggested that there wasn’t an ordinary seaman, airman, or bog standard squaddie among them; Colin wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d all been marines or even ex SAS before they had left the services.
Just what sort of outfit was this Olympus Project? An inflatable dinghy on call at a moments notice, a fake ambulance, their own protection squad working in the kitchens; crikey, this lot had probably got former guardsmen mowing the lawns and digging the vegetable patch! Heaven help any burglars who thought this Georgian mansion had a few trinkets worth stealing!
Everything was ready. His dining companions took their places and Colin found he was to be seated at the end of the table, opposite his host. The formidable looking lady was sat at the old man’s right hand side; her three male companions were to Colin’s right.
The remaining chairs that had been drawn up to the elegant table and its eight place settings when Colin first entered the room had been moved back against the wall. There were to be no late arrivals joining this happy band. The pecking order of this group was clearly defined.
Colin casually tried to assess the people around him as the waiters served up their starter dish. By his estimation, all three men to his right were in their mid to late fifties; the man to his host’s left hand appeared to be a civil servant or some type of professional. The other two were unmistakeably from a military background. While the waiter attending to him was pouring a small glass of Cedar Creek Chardonnay he looked across at the lady and immediately felt his face redden; she was looking at him with a stern intent, a look that without a word being spoken told him that she knew exactly what he was doing and that she disapproved!
Colin switched his attention to his plate. If he felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the lady he was confident was second-in-command of this outfit, then his situation didn’t improve when he saw the warm squash veloute, with soft poached egg and pink grapefruit jam. He hadn’t eaten in ages and he would have given anything for a full English breakfast. When he had been with his late wife Sue Owens in The Gambia, they had eaten well enough, although in truth they ate quite simply for the most part. He wasn’t a complete stranger to fine dining though; heaven knows they could afford it with the money she’d made when selling her home and business.
As soon as he tasted that first mouthful, Colin was forced to revise his opinion; he had to admit it was especially good. He forgot about his fellow diners and his dream of a big fry up and savoured every moment of this first lunch at the manor house. Their main course of young Welsh lamb, served with crushed broccoli, sheep’s curd, Provencal figs and toasted hazelnuts was even more delicious. A large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon was a more than welcome companion and later the wild honey ice cream felt like the ideal dessert on a warm summers’ day like today. As the last few dishes were being cleared away and coffee was about to be served, Colin leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He was stuffed! He looked up to find the eyes of his fellow diners, who had remained silent throughout the whole proceedings, were turned towards him.
“That was excellent” he said “I’m looking forward to the grand tour more than ever now; I’ll definitely need the exercise!”
“I’m going to take my coffee out onto the patio” said the lady “I want to enjoy this sunshine while I have a few spare minutes. I have work to do later. Good afternoon gentlemen. Mr. Bailey.” With that she swept out of the room. A waiter placed a coffee pot on a silver tray and added other necessary bits and bobs for her excursion onto the sun kissed and sheltered haven a few steps from the door to the rear of the main building and then he swiftly trotted off in her wake.
“Like a galleon in full sail isn’t she old chap?” said his host, with a conspiratorial grin. He looked at the three men on his left hand side ‘No doubt you’ll have matters to attend to as well? We shan’t detain you. I propose we six reconvene at 1900 hours; we have a lot to get through this evening. Mr. Bailey will have a far better idea of what The Olympus Project is all about by that time and he’ll appreciate how his particular skill set fits into our organisation.”
As soon the others had left the room, the old man beckoned Colin to join him with his coffee in some more comfortable seats in front of the large fireplace. “Right you are then” he said “let’s finish our coffees in peace and then we’ll be on our way.”
Colin and his host sat in silence, savouring their drink and letting that excellent three course meal go down. Colin could feel his eyelids growing heavy; the old man already had his head on his chest and was dozing peacefully. The period French clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour; it was two o’clock. The elderly gentleman stood up stiffly.
“It’s time to go Mr. Bailey! Let me take you through the delights of my family home and show you what we’ve done to update the old place; I’m sure the changes will be of interest to you.”
The two men entered the hallway and the grand tour began.
CHAPTER 3
“Larcombe Manor is a Grade One listed Manor House in a secluded spot eight miles outside Bath; it has been lived in by my family continually since 1550. Queen Elizabeth I stayed here for two nights in 1585. I’ve searched high and low for a written account of her thoughts on the place, but to no avail. I can’t tell you whether she was so enamoured of Larcombe Manor that she stayed an extra day, or she had intended to descend upon the place for a week and skedaddled back to London in high dudgeon!”
“The eleven bedroom, seven bathroom house comes with 3.6 acres of gardens; we have both a formal garden that you can see from your bedroom window and a walled kitchen garden to the side, where we grow all our own vegetables and flowers. Our reception rooms are full of character and retain many original features from the major extension and overhaul my ancestor’s carried out in the middle of the nineteenth century.”