Remember Me? Part Five

The little boat was pulled onto the beach by three burly sailors, Lady Sylvia watching with interest. Sir Richard Arcos stood in the prow, looking up at the ancient fortress which overlooked the harbour. While Lady Sylvia allowed one of the men to hold her at the waist, lowering her down onto the sand, Sir Richard refused offers of help, leaping down onto the sand with a lightness of step which belied his years. Adjusting his black bowler hat, Sir Richard drew a cross in the sand with his cane, handed each of the sailors a substantial tip, and strode off towards the little fishing town, somewhere on the Balkan coast, Lady Sylvia hurrying after him, her travelling clothes blowing in a chill breeze.

"Sir Richard!" she exclaimed, "where are we?"

"Best you didn't know, lassie," he drawled urbanely. "After all, if this all goes wrong, the less you know the better. Suffice it to say, we are in a country friendly to ours, with a Minister of the Interior who owes me a few favours. The least he could do was facilitate our undetected entry into the country."

"So this isn't our target?" Lady Sylvia was slightly breathless.

"Right first time!" Sir Richard gestured towards the town with his cane. "We hire a car here and prepare to cross the border. Do you think you could be Alice Caine, dear?"

"False papers?" Lady Sylvia smiled.

"Well, how else does one enter a country to bump off a septic wart?" Sir Richard laughed "-of course, lass. Mostly as people might pay a little too much attention to an English knight and the daughter of an earl, if they just turned up in a little Balkan country."

"Of course," Lady Sylvia shook her her head. "Where now?"

"The car hire place and the hotel," Sir Richard nodded. "After which we are going to climb a couple of mountains."

Lady Sylvia sighed deeply.

Remember Me? Part Four

Lady Sylvia walked with Sir Richard, away from the church, towards the little old house where the aged widower, formerly pastor of the chapel, lived, listening intently to Sir Richard's tale. He swung his cane, rather than leaning on it, shaking his head as he retailed some information.

"Are you ready to get your brother in trouble, my dear Sylvia?" he smiled mischievously "- I mean, swanning off to somewhere distant with a fairly notorious character..."

"I don't have a reputation," she laughed "-and you won't be able to do this alone, Sir Richard. How old are you?"

"Not apparently old enough to know better," he sighed. "You know, I used to think I was. That the world I lived in back then had changed for the better. But the more I hear today, the more I realise that the struggle between good and evil goes on, and I have no way of dealing with it. All I can do is fight, as I have always fought, trying to adjust the balance where I can. And in the case of Oulton, I can do that."

"When?" Lady Sylvia breathed the words softly "-Sir Richard, I..."

"Well, I hear Central Europe is wonderful this time of year." Sir Richard drawled urbanely. "I thought we might hire a car in Austria and drive about in what used to be the Austro-Hungarian Empire - how does that strike you?"

"If he's there," Lady Sylvia laid a hand on the old warrior's arm, "then I'll go with you. Whatever happens to me after that."

She cast a last, lingering gaze back to the graveyard, where the spring flowers were starting to bloom.

Remember Me? Part Three

A chill wind disturbed Lady Sylvias hair, as she and Sir Richard Arcos stood by a little grave in Mid-Wales. The earth on the grave was fresh, turf newly laid on it. The two figures wore mourning clothes, and the flowers on the grave were fresh. Marking the grave was a wooden cross, a brass plate on it bearing the words: Yvette Trevelyan: 1920-2009.

"We were once engaged to be married, you know," Sir Richard smiled nostalgically. "But she fell for my best friend. And I let her go. They had a wonderful life together. He was pastor of the church here for a long time. I remember visiting him and his family."

"I know..." Lady Sylvia smiled. "My grandad was your friend too, after all. But something happened, didn't it?"

"Their son, Cakvin Trevelyan," Sir Richard nodded. "He joined the army - against his mother's wishes. Norman told her that she had to let him make his own way, just as we all had, but that's easier said than done. Well, Lieutenant Calvin Trevelyan was seconded to the Secret Service, and sent to Russia to do something awfully hush-hush."

Lady Sylvia looked down again at the grave. She remembered the funeral, the old man in the wheelchair who wept as the woman with whom he had shared his life was buried. And also though of the way that Sir Richard had been unable to be present at her death.

"Oulton was a senior man at headquarters," Sir Richard continued the story. "Some people thought he would be the next head of the Secret Service. But he'd been a Red agent since his Oxford days. Norman and I learned a little of his secret from some party or other we were at. My daughter - the girl called Sparrowhawk - saw him speaking to a man she didn't like, followed them, and found he was passing on secrets to the Russians. Well, Norman and I were able to expose him, forcing him to defect. But before we could stop him, he had Norman's son arrested. Norman had to choose; let Oulton go on working as a mole in British Secret Service, of sacrifice the life of his son." Sir Richard's eyes narrowed. "He chose to sacrifice the life of his son, so that others would not die."

Lady Sylvia could only shake her head.

"The shock almost killed Yvette then," Sir Richard looked again at the grave. "Norman and I travelled to Russia, and there Norman confronted Oulton again. This time, Norman shot him. We all thought he was dead."

"But?" Lady Sylvia sighed.

"The other day," Sir Richard replied, "I learned that Oulton is still alive. Not only that, but he's still dangerous. How do you fancy a trip to Eastern Europe, my dear?"

Remember Me? Part Two

Lady Sylvia looked at the old gentleman for what seemed like an age, incredulous. He only nodded, leaning on his cane.

"You heard me correctly, my dear," he spoke softly. "I need you to help me do something that could see both of us in prison - or maybe even dead."

"What is it?" Lady Sylvia spoke in a shocked whisper. "Why not...?"

"Speak to the Green Man, lassie?" Sir Richard chuckled. "While I appreciate your point of view, there are some things that I prefer not to leave to the Green Man. And one of those is the little trip I have in mind."

Her lunchbreak about to end, Lady Sylvia had to bid farewell to the elderly adventurer. All through the day, however, she could not keep his words from her mind. She was afraid for him, afraid that Sir Richard Arcos was about to embark on some foolish crusade. She hurried over to his London house after work, dreading what she might find.

She ought not to have worried, she reflected, as she reached his door, and found Sir Richard standing there, smiling. Hurring up to him, she embraced him, kissing his cheek.

"I must give you the idea that I've gone comletely bug-house more often, my dear," Sir Richard smiled wryly. "Come on in."

"Not so loud," Lady Sylvia smiled nervously. "People might get the wrong idea..."

"I'm afraid, lass," Sir Richard shook his head, "that I passed the age when people drew such conclusions a long time ago. I've aged far too gracefully to seem to be that sort of old man." He escorted her indoors. "Now, where were we?"

"A plan that might land us both in prison." Lady Sylvia took his arm. "What is it this time?"

"Yesterday," Sir Richard pointed to his desk. "I received two letters. One was from Wales, the other from a closed country in Eastern Europe. The Welsh one was from Dr. Norman Trevelyan, a retired pastor. His wife's just died unexpectedly, and he doesn't know how long he has to live. The other was from a source in Eastern Europe, a man I knew during the Cold War. Oulton, the defector is still alive."

Lady Sylvia gasped.

Remember Me?

Lady Sylvia Vaughan looked out over the Thames from the office of Lord Ambrose Vaughan, MP for Greyminster, as she sorted through his mail. She checked it for junk mail, then constituency mail, and other policical stuff, all the while hoping that it wouldn't be long before her brother got himself a proper secretary. But he had not expected to be elected, and so nothing was in place yet. Still, after life with the Green Man, this was the most boring thing on earth. Looking away from the river, she turned her attention back to the mail.

Only to almost drop everything, as she found a letter addressed to herself. Typed on an old manual typewriter, it was an invitation for her to meet someone in the Victoria Tower gardens, that green space lying between the Palace of Westminster and Lambeth bridge. The letter was not even signed. By all rights, she should have ignored it, but bored people often do things they shouldn't, and so, at the stated hour, Lady Sylvia Vaughan was stood in the Victoria Tower Gardens, wondering just who had written to her, and why.

And, more importantly, just how she was supposed to know who it was. After all, there had been no signature on the letter. And the number of people in the gardens was always fairly substantial. Mostly tourists, and, on good days, people having their lunches (although she preferred a nice little Cafe near the Home Office). That made it safe, however, for surely no-one would try to attack her in such a public place, where every building overlooking her was in some way connected to the business of Government?

"I see you came, lassie."

A familiar voice caused Lady Sylvia to start. She turned round, a smile on her pretty face, to see a patrician figure in bark suit and bowler hat, carrying a cane, rather than an umbrella.

"Sir Richard Arcos!" she exclaimed. "You wrote that letter?"

"All on my own," Sir Richard gave her a courtly bow. "I apologise profusely for any howlers in the spelling, of course. After all, I am used to having a girl do the typing for me. But this is a rather sensitive matter. Hence meeting you here, rather than at the House of Commons or my place."

"What's wrong?" Lady Sylvia moved closer to the old gentleman.

"Nothing, my dear," Sir Richard shook his head. "Absolutely nothing. I simply need your help in a little matter - a little matter that could see us both in prison."