Remember Remember Page 7

  Chapter 4

  July 21st, Terminal Two, Manchester Airport.

  “What a dirty filthy place terminal two is and the colour scheme is so depressing,” thought Alan, “who could have decided on lilac and blue”. The seat arms and metal chairs were covered in filth, there were crisps, cigarette ends, sweets, empty crisp packets and discarded newspapers strewn about. No cleaners were seen and there were no waste bins either. He supposed, “It’s because of the terrorist threat, an excuse the British use for many of their dirt strewn public places. Still, the queue to the check in wasn’t too bad, only four or five people were in front.”

  He paid extra for two legroom seats and the three cases were deposited onto the conveyor. Then came what he thought was a charade as various questions were asked about the luggage and who packed it.

  Eventually though they were allocated their boarding passes and they moved away from the check-in desks toward the next obstacle, passport control and as they strolled along Jacky linked arms with him and asked, “Why do they bother with all those silly questions, I mean a terrorist isn’t going to say, “yes, I have packed the Semtex disguised to look like a tube of toothpaste; which took some expertise and time to make, but because you’ve asked I’ll tell you.” she smirked then continued, “What I did was fit the Semtex into the tube in the correct conditions and then covered it with the correct spray which makes it very difficult to detect when in an SR toothpaste tube. But having done all that my nerve will go when politely asked silly questions by a twenty year old working for the airline, I mean that wouldn’t happen would it.”

  “No love,” he whispered,” but I don’t think we should discuss it now, walls have ears you know in airports.”

  “What do you mean walls have ears,” she replied.

  “They have cameras and listening devices everywhere my love and that’s why they ask those questions to see if there is any change in your body language or behaviour when asked, they have you on camera as soon as you walk in, so let’s please change the subject or we may never get on the bloody plane,” he whispered.

  “Oh sorry,” she replied, but still continued with her thoughts whispering, “why did they ask those questions about edged weapons and even tin openers and tweezers. I suppose that you could spend 2 hours on the flight trying to open the cockpit door with a tin opener without the staff on either side of the door noticing,” she giggled, “and then say, Oh I’m sorry about this, I had too much to drink and thought this door was a tin of Spam, got a little peckish you know, but I promise I won’t do it again, naughty terrorist.”

  He stopped for a moment, looked her directly in the eye and with a smile on his face said, “Seriously Jacky will you now change the subject.”

  “I’m sorry,” she responded genuinely.

  “Good,” he smiled, “now let’s go through passport control.”

  The usual routine now took place as passports were checked and unseen people watched, but these were only holiday makers on their way to Turkey.

  His mobile phone was put in a tray along with his cigar pouch and money belt and then he was asked to walk through the scanner which as always bleeped.

  He thought, “It’s the metal bits inside somewhere which hold old wounds together, I wonder if the screws get rusty.”

  His Panama hat was ordered to be removed and a young man set about a body search.

  “But most of them are incompetent,” he thought, “the mouth is never explored, nor down the back and there are simple places to hide things, such as the lining of the hat, not to mention more intimate places which might be used. Haven’t they heard of crutching? But this was holiday traffic and at six pound per hour who in security cares? I hope some do, I’m sure some don’t,” he thought.

  “The departure lounge was a little better, the shops seemed more upmarket, whatever that meant, and the general appearance was one that implied at least one cleaner emptied and swept.

  The flight was called, the announcement asked for only those people in rows 20 to 38 to go to the gate and asked the rest for restraint, but Brits like to queue and don’t listen. However they got there in the end in a seat with leg room where they were then instructed in how to open the emergency exit.

  Alan mused to himself, “Nice to know that as the plane ploughs into some Turkish mountain my job is to fuck about with some levers and locks and not pray for Gods forgiveness. Still, can’t be morbid can we, air flight’s are very safe; so why do I think I need the toilet again.”

  “Come on,” he thought, “you’re a brave bloke, you’re well trained, you know what to do, how to stay in control and kill, so why do you still get the jitters in a plane. Perhaps it’s because you’re just one of a couple of hundred others who are all trapped in a metal tube sitting on a few thousand gallons of high octane fuel with absolutely no control over events.”

  He was awakened from his thoughts by a stewardess who asked if they wanted tea or coffee and then charged them for it. “I must be getting old; they even charge for a cup of tea now; nothing is free, perhaps if I want a pee there’ll be a coin slot in the door,” he mumbled to himself.

  The flight was uneventful, First Officer Max somebody or other told them of progress and he thought, “It’s nice to know there’s someone at the front still awake, but he stuttered a bit when telling us of our destination, Dalaman Turkey. Perhaps he thought we were going to Malaga.”

  When the plane began it’s decent into Dalaman, someone announced that the Turks wanted ten pounds sterling to enter their country and Alan grumbled, “That must be a sign of poor times, why the hell can’t we pay them in their money to enter their country, can you imagine the Americans saying we need your lira or whatever to come into the USA. Bloody cheek and something I need to take up with the travel agency. What the hell do you do if you’re told you can’t enter until you’ve paid and you don’t have twenty pounds sterling. Do you spend 14 days in the departure lounge?”

  He is told they will not accept Turkish money, traveller’s cheques, personal cheques, or credit cards and thinks, “I’ll bet they take American Dollars, grabbing poor sods.” But twenty pounds was found and Turkey awaited.

  An ugly looking young man with a big nose and black eyes looked at both of them, then he confirmed their passports with a flick through pages and a stamp. You are now in Turkey, follow the signs to the holiday rep. A rep was found who smiled at them both as Alan enquired, “We are looking for the Hotel Sun City, Olu Deniz.” A hand pointed to a row of buses and number 4 was confirmed as the one onto which they must board.

  “Thank God the bus is air conditioned,” he thought.

  Another twenty or so people got on board, luggage was piled onto the back seats and a woman boarded who picked up a microphone, gave her name as Fatima and proceeded to tell them of the three hotel stops they would make and to have a happy holiday. They all then had to join in a lesson in Turkish in how to say, “Hello, Goodbye, Have a Nice Day, Kiss my….” etc.

  “Why don’t they ever tell you the order of the hotel stops,” he thought as everybody seemed to mutter, “I bet we’ll be last.” They’re told the journey will take about 90 minutes and to put their seat arms down because they are going over the mountains. Then they drove into the hills and the bus became a tractor. “God it’s slow,” he thought, “I wonder how many gears he has in the box.”

  The bus went slower and slower, higher and higher, and the usual, “We’ll all have to get out and push,” was heard. But this time Alan thought, “well maybe we will have to get out and push the damn thing.” Jacky nearest the window cooed, “What a fabulous sight, look at that drop.”

  He shivered, he didn’t like heights. He’d fought in mountains in difficult, dangerous conditions and found them unforgiving. He never could get his head right above 500 feet. More hills made the driver’s right arm and leg work hard and gears were found with a crunch. He settled back,
closed his eyes, and tried to sleep while Jacky droned on about the scenery; he nodded and smiled confirming listening but his mind was thinking of progress to date. His observations of the people at the airports, on the plane and on this bus had confirmed that nobody seemed suspicious.

  “So far we are alone and on holiday, with no shadow,” he thought, “let’s hope the others I meet are as successful.”

  The bus eventually arrived at the Kalamar Hotel, people smiled and departed, baggage was spotted and thrown out of the back door as more people groaned, “It’s not our stop.” A look at the watch confirmed ninety five minutes of travel and he said, “That’s not bad if we’re next.” The bus departed and less than five minutes later the tour guide clucked, “We are at the Sun City Complex.”

  “Good news, this is our stop,” he said to Jacky as only four groups alighted, including the inevitable squawking kid. Their passports were scrutinised and the rules and regulations of the complex were explained. Each person was asked to extend an arm and a blue wrist band was clamped to it, which he new would give access to all the resorts amenities.

  A young Turk grabbed the suitcases, and showed the way to 1121 saying he would follow. They passed the pool which looked good, being very large, lit and empty. The apartment was found and looked good, with working air con and two single beds as ordered. Negotiations took place of who had which and his idea of pushing them together was firmly rebuffed. She wanted to shower and then go down for dinner and he readily agreed.

  The food was good, the wine was average, but a bottle of good imported red was bought for an extra 20,000,000 lira. The atmosphere was relaxed and they had two more beers, before deciding to go to bed. The bathroom was used to change by both parties; everything was in order and they slept the sleep of brother and sister.

  July 22nd, Sun City

  He woke at 06.30 and dressed in shorts, t-shirt, socks, trainers and a panama hat. The apartment was the top one of three and he walked down thirty-seven steps, along tile built paths, past young banana trees and some of age with fruit. The smell of night-scented stock along the path filled the air and it was quiet with few people about.

  “I like this place,” he thought as he passed the indoor pool, then the outdoor pool and finally passed the security gate which led him out into the street which at this time of day was empty. He turned right, deciding it looked like the way to go toward the beach where he found shops, restaurants and a pedestrian area. He turned right, and found a bar called, ‘The Pop In Cocktail Bar’, opposite ‘Captain Hook’s Restaurant’.

  “That’ll do for our first meeting,” he thought as he turned to retrace his steps back to Sun City to see if he could place a message in the reception area.

  It was now 07.20 and the information centre was customer free. He made a request to leave a message and was told to write what he wanted to say on a pad and pin it to the notice board.

  “Thank you,” he replied and wrote his message thinking, “I hope to hell this works,” as he pinned it to the cork and walked over to the restaurant for breakfast. The message read, Meet you at the Pop In Cocktail Bar. I suggest 18.00 on 22nd. Bring local currency. The place is opposite Captain Hook’s Restaurant. Just ask for the Pop In Cocktail Bar, Olu Deniz. I will be wearing a panama hat with a blue and red band, sunglasses fitted to normal glasses, old trainers and a blue band will be on my right wrist. I will be drinking pints of Becks and hope to see you soon,” regards, Armitage.”

  Jacky woke at about eight. She had a quick shower, brushed her teeth, applied a little make-up, then wandered down to the restaurant. She saw Alan, grabbed an orange juice and joined him saying, “You were up early this morning!”

  “Yeah, I find it difficult to sleep when the sun comes up. The breakfast here is very good; I recommend the omelette with cheese and some fresh bread. I’ve brought down the water bottles to fill from the water fountain. It’ll save us buying some later.”

  She explored the self service breakfast bar, selected bread, runny jams and fruit; water melon, cantaloupe melon, peach and orange, then returned to him.

  “What do you want to do today Jacky?”

  “I don’t know what’s available, I’d like to look around and see what we can do.”

  “Well. I’ve put towels out on two loungers near the pool, you’ve got to beat the Germans at their game. I think some of the buggers must get up at five to put their towels out, wish I was brave enough to throw them all in the pool and start World War Three,” he asserted, then continued, “towels and bikini tops at ten paces.” Then changing the subject he continued, “Look, I’ve got to see some business friends at six this evening in town so I’m happy to mooch around until about five but then I need to go.”

  “That’s OK with me; it’ll give me a chance for a sleep before dinner without being pestered by you.”

  “I haven’t pestered you at all yet!” he protested.

  “I know, when’s it gonna start then?” she teased.

  “Are you serious?”

  “No, no just joking!”

  He thought sex might be interesting, but would probably complicate things. “Still, you never know,” he argued with himself. “Of course you bloody well know, it will complicate things, it always has done, but then if you don’t make a move she might think you’re gay. Which is the best reputation to have back in the Brown Cow? Good lover, bad lover or gay?” he thought. “Here you are in Turkey, only 24 hours by bus from Syria, you’re plotting to terrorise the whole UK and kill perhaps hundreds of thousands of people, yet you’re still thinking about your cock. You really are a selfish bastard,” he thought then smiled inwardly to himself, “I’m only playing the part.”

  She came back from her tour of Sun City with a request to go to a private beach. “There’s a bus a 9.30, we can catch that, and one comes back at 12.30 so we can get lunch back here before your meeting.”

  “That’s OK with me, let’s do it.” he replied.

  Ten people scrambled onto the minibus which took about 15 minutes to deliver them to the private beach, where wrist bands were inspected and entrance gained. The place was fabulous, set at the bottom of a hill below a 1000 year old church; ruined but with the foundations clearly marked. The whole area was beautifully conserved and sheltered by olive and pomegranate trees, which formed a welcome canopy to protect you from the sun. The trees stopped short of the sea; actually it was a lagoon cut off from the Mediterranean proper by a sand bank, but still cleaned by a small current of flowing water. There was a small sandy beach, some pedalos, as ever, and the glistening turquoise of the clear Mediterranean, it was absolutely beautiful. All this with a back drop of at least five mountain peaks lined with olive and pine trees rising to maybe 2000 feet, before the trees fell away to show barren rock peaks. No wonder they said it was one of the most beautiful beaches in the world and still very quiet because not too many tourists were there to spoil the tranquillity.

  The morning was spent boating and roasting in the sun, then looking for shade with the inevitable trip to the bar for glasses of Tuborg lager, which you were made to pay for here.

  “So much for the free booze and food,” he thought as he applied sun cream to her body, he removed her bikini straps from her shoulders, then the clip on her back and she turned her head to smile.

  “Do the top of my legs at the back please, I can’t reach there.”

  Hands slid up and down exposed thighs as she bent forward to help the basting process.

  “I’d better do your bikini line love, don’t want you getting red down there do we,” he whispered as his hands very deftly slid under elastic to work around the very tops of her thighs.

  “Not too long up there, we don’t need to put too much cream where the sun don’t shine, do we?” she scolded.

  “Sorry love, I got carried away.”

  “That’s OK, quite nice really, you really are getting
to know me aren’t you?” she quipped.

  “Only your body love, only your body,” he grinned.

  “Which is it to be, body, mind or both?”

  “At my age I don’t know, let’s see how we progress,” he replied.

  The 12.30 bus arrived on time, a few people scrambled aboard, the heat outside was now 400 C; inside the bus maybe 450C.

  “Let’s get going soon please,” he thought.

  Fifteen minutes later Sun City appeared, shimmering in the sunlight. At one o’clock lunch was served, the place put on a good spread with lots of salads and baked bread as good as any French baguette. There were plenty of meats both hot and cold, but little fish.

  The tables and chairs were good quality, the floor was marble tiled, all under an enormous wooden roof held up by huge wooden supports, of the type you’d imagine a ship’s mast to be made. A motorised winged glider buzzed over head carrying 2 people followed by a second and third, noisy but not really intrusive.

  Lunch of salad, chicken and fruit was washed down with water and one glass of white wine.

  “We must look after our figures,” said Alan as he leaned over and squeezed Jacky’s hand.

  After lunch they slept in their air conditioned room, two people together but in separate beds. He woke at 4.30 and watched Jacky, the one sheet she had been lying under had moved with her body which now exposed her whole left leg. A short pyjama top ruffled up exposed her buttocks, which were firm round and very white, the tiniest of thongs ensuring maximum exposure.

  “It’s quite some time since I’ve seen my penis grow so rock hard so quickly,” he thought, then squeezed and stroked it but knew this was not the time for introductions.

  He stood up, naked, and rubbed his penis again, surprised at his virility more than his control. Looking in the mirror he thought, “Not bad, not a bad physique, bit skinny but OK, scars and a bullet hole would always make for good conversation.