Port Hope Simpson right to the top

The Human Figure represents the spirit of Port Hope Simpson and its enthusiastic fire;
The Labrador Flag represents our heritage;
The House represents the importance of home and family that exists in our community;
The Port Hope Simpson banner: represents our town's pride and teamwork.
Stacy Russell

This story is dedicated to obtaining justice for Erica Anitoff Williams, three and a half years and her young father Eric

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who died in their Labrador Development Company home, Port Hope Simpson in acrimonious, suspicious circumstances in the early hours of 3 February 1940. The R.C.M.P (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) Serious Crimes Unit, Gander, Newfoundland have recently in 2002, opened up their own investigation about the deaths. If you know anything at all about what happened please do not hesitate in contacting your local RCMP detachment or the police force of jurisdiction in your area. If you live outside Canada, please contact your local police service and ask them to make a request for assistance from the appropriate Canadian law enforcement agency. The main RCMP website address is http://www.rcmp.ca or
Email me!

1. Richard Ap Meurig steadily hauled back on the joystick of his favourite Cherokee light aircraft

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as it climbed steeply out of the mountains around Soler on the rugged north-west coast of Majorca. When Gary Shepherd his good friend had phoned him, serious doubts had come to mind. But the temptation of adventure became too great as soon as Gary told him that $100,000 was on the table if he accepted the assignment.
As Richard settled back into the pilot's seat, he was thinking about what Gary had told him over the telephone. As auto-pilot took over he thought he'd maybe bitten off more than he could chew but so what he thought, there was nothing new in that. He pulled out the brief memorandum from Justin Harcourt, British Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs, from the map pocket on the left leg of his flying suit. He didn't know how the memo had come into Gary's hands but he had known Gary for so long that he had no reason whatsoever to doubt its authenticity. It was written in the Minister’s own hand to the Newfoundland Governor himself dated and signed by Harcourt. Richard knew they’d probably never thrown away a single piece of paper during the Commission of Government days from 1934 - 1949. Its calculated ambiguity wasn't lost on Richard.
It said, “Wrigglesworth corrupt group proceed with caution."
On the face of it seemed like plain common sense, but Richard knew it was a stern warning to anybody thinking about delving into the affairs of the Wrigglesworth group in Wild Bay from 1934 to 1949.
It meant, "Keep out Ap Meurig or else!
He took out a "Majorcan Times" from his weathered green rucksack and settled back for a comfortable read and a ride.
15 minutes later air traffic control at Palma directed him on to approach runway 16A and Richard was soon taxiing towards his parking bay at the end of the hangars. His mechanic took over and

2. Richard headed off to climb into one of the apparently endless line of yellow and black taxis

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heading out on the fast coastal road to his hotel.
Just as they were about to turn off at the penultimate roundabout there was a harsh screech of tyres, a loud bang and Richard was thrown forward against his seat belt. The next thing he knew his passenger door was yanked open and a rifle butt smashed into the side of his face shattering teeth, breaking his nose and splintering his left cheek. With blood pouring from his face he was hauled out face down in the dirt with a heavy boot on the back of his head.
He lay absolutely still for a few seconds whilst his senses cleared until he felt the faintest relaxation in the pressure on the back of his head. Then he pushed off with both his powerful arms, jack- knifed his legs and kicked his assailant at the base of his spine. Caught off guard the thick-set, black-haired, olive-skinned sailor gasped in pain. Momentarily losing his balance, he was unable to prevent Richard from springing to his feet with the taste of blood in his mouth. He kicked him incredibly hard in the groin splitting one of his testicles. As he bent over with the sickest feeling in his stomach and a searing pain between his legs he was helpless. Richard grabbed him by the hair on his head and crashed his face into his rising knee. The ruffian’s nose, lips and eyebrows exploded with blood. He was blind. Then bending his knees and using the combined power of his legs and his whole body Richard hit him with an almighty double uppercut.
He was unconscious before he even hit the floor.
The Guillard articulated lorry had rammed into the left-hand drive Mercedes taxi killing the driver outright and throwing Richard against the passenger door. Although Richard had expertly dealt with the first thug, out of the back had leapt another four hooded, armed men who had pinned his arms behind his back whilst one of them proceeded to

3. punch him until he blacked out.

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He came round from the anaesthetic in an overcrowded hospital ward with a bizarre group of individuals around him. As he gingerly moved round after facial surgery he saw one man gazing vacantly into space with his eyes wide open. Another was bandaged heavily with left leg and right-arm in slings suspended by separate wires from the ceiling. Another woman was walking round and round in circles in her dressing-gown muttering something to herself. Richard thought he was in a lunatic asylum. After been so badly beaten up his abductors had left him here on the edge of town.
He was a prisoner!
Standing outside the doors at each end of his ward were armed guards. Richard had no idea where he was or why he'd been taken there. All he could think about was how to get out of the place.
Meanwhile in Lisbon, Harold James Johnston Wrigglesworth the son of Sir James Wrigglesworth was playing his compatriots in crime at poker when the door burst open and in came Harold Lessonfield with the news of Richard’s capture.
“Good,” said Wrigglesworth, “that should at least teach the interfering blighter a thing or two.”
The game continued all afternoon until 1800 hours when the party had drinks, caviar and smoked salmon brought to them by one of the Chateau’s butlers. The French - inspired building was built as a property investment by the Wrigglesworth family but eventually it had become their winter home against the cold, wet English climate.
Justice had never been done in Wild Bay Labrador in the years after the horrific axe death of James John, the eldest son of John Owen Jeffrey the Labrador Development Woods Company owner whose grand-daughter Emily Jeffrey had also died at the scene. The

4. Department of Natural Resources and the Dominions Office, London had over–ruled the wishes of the Department of Justice at the time.

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They had seen to it that the Newfoundland Rangers and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police did not investigate the crimes.
The criminal world of Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey had been allowed to develop unchecked since its initial days of selling pit props to British collieries. Their stolen capital had been shrewdly invested largely in a number of properties in Spain, Majorca, France and Portugal. Tax payments had always been a problem for Wrigglesworth and his corrupt partner Jeffrey. Their British and foreign income tax evasion had been distilled into a fine art by their family lawyers down the years as they moved homes according to the seasons. They spent just the right amount of time in each mansion to avoid paying hefty tax bills.
Also in the Mediterranean region, the simple uncluttered, hard labouring life of the Portuguese farmers in the mountains was in marked contrast to the cosseted freedom of the tourists on the Algarve. Roseanne McCarthy, the daughter of the maid who had witnessed the axe deaths was now a Portuguese farmer's wife. She loved to work. Looking after her kitchen and her house was her idea of heaven.
On the other hand, Shanolla McCarthy in southern Portugal couldn't have been any more different if she had tried. She was glamorously sexual in her tight - fitting laced bodice and jeans accentuating every one her curves. She had an endless list of male admirers. She was happiest partying and being the centre of attention.
On the day Richard was attacked she had been busy living it up on the beach without a care in the world with about 60 other partygoers. As Richard’s fiancée, she had no idea that she was also been secretly observed by the highly-paid henchmen from the Wrigglesworth–

5. Jeffrey Syndicate masquerading as respectable property developers

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of independent means along the Algarve, Cote d’Azure and around Palma, Majorca.
The WJ Syndicate had developed its evil ways into rack renting, intimidation, drugs, prostitution, organised crime and also most sinisterly had established successful French, Portuguese and Spanish Mafia connections that went right to the heart of the official police and political life in their own countries.
Unscrupulous businessmen exploiting the workers purely for self - enrichment went back to the 1930s and beyond not only in Labrador but also in other parts of the world wherever competitive capitalism ruled in uncontrolled ways. Private gain was time and time again put before citizens' welfare. Corrupt political elites worked hand–in-glove with greedy business people to result in unsavoury goings-on whenever they went. They were a squirming, breeding mass of parasites. They had inflicted pain and terrible suffering to the many decent people whose lives they had touched.
Richard had already felt the bruising effect of having stepped into their world. That experience had only increased his determination and resolve to complete the latest assignment he was now contemplating.
But right now he had made up his mind escape from the hospital prison was his top priority. As the sky darkened overhead and storm clouds rolled in his sedation was gradually wearing off and he
was looking around for clues as to his location. He thought he heard a strange whirring noise through the open window or inside his head. When he looked outside he thought he could see a small black cloud of birds at treetop height. They made such an eerie sound that his imagination started to play tricks with him. He peered hard into the darkness. He thought he was imagining things when he saw grooves

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disused sandstone quarry used for storage purposes, Arenal, Palma Nova, Majorca;

6. on three vertical walls of orange - coloured rock with another criss-cross set of grooves, in a large rectangular hole,

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about 60 metres deep, containing some ramshackle buildings, a few trucks, some broken-down cars and an assortment of scrubby bushes and supermarket trolleys. In the distance he could just make out the white tower shape of the derelict Majorcan windmills with their bare cables instead of where their sails should be. He heard the relentless noise of speeding traffic although there was no hard surface on the pitted tracks around his building. He guessed he was been held somewhere on the outskirts of Palma. He would wait until the still hours just before dawn, between 0400 - 0500 hours to make good his escape.
He wearily climbed back into his battered metal bed. All his possessions had been removed and he was only wearing a dark green pair of pyjama bottoms, prison issue. He pretended he was asleep but he was putting together an escape plan.
It had to be the simplest and most direct route possible-out of the window along the ledge and down the water pipe. A slight problem was that his window was about 30 metres above the ground! But he managed to pick his moment well.
He waited and waited until there was that peculiar stillness in the air just before a new day begins. Until he was sure there was no sign of the guards standing outside the glass doors. Creeping softly and swiftly on hands and knees without making a sound on the cold black marble floor he reached the nearest window in double–quick time. Sliding himself over the concrete sill he was able to twist round towards the window frame and carefully locate both feet on the external ledge. He spread out his legs and arms against the wall to maintain his balance and moved along to the grey down-pipe, 18 metres away. As he approached the pipe he could see black or rusted

7. wall brackets holding it quite close to the wall. He wondered how secure they were.

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He wanted to place the least amount of outward force on the pipe to lessen the chance of it breaking away from the wall. He therefore pressed his whole body and legs up against it. With his outstretched arms above his head he clamped his hands on each side of it. He managed to control the rate of his descent whilst keeping as close to the pipe as possible. Within two minutes, that felt like two hours his feet touched the ground and he was away. Fleet-footed he sped away needing to get a fix on his bearings as soon as possible. Within twenty minutes he had reached de Nova beach where he would rest until daybreak. Luckily he had another good friend in the city whom he had decided to call. He curled up beneath a heavily laden date palm with his head resting on one of its exposed gnarled roots and slept deeply for about 30 minutes before calling Fabien who came to collect him.
He stayed safe in the spare room at the rear of the hotel before he even thought about contacting Gary Shepherd again.
Richard’s latest assignment indeed went right to the top.
He had to obtain sufficient evidence to bring the current Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey gang leaders to British justice. He had also agreed to obtain sufficient evidence that would show which elements of the British government were originally responsible for setting up and maintaining the corrupt group of politicians and businessmen in the first place.
Right from 1934 to the present day justice would at last be done if he had anything to do with it.
It was a very tall order indeed for the ex- Special Forces officer.
He had penetrated deeply behind enemy lines when he had been parachuted into Afghanistan to locate and kidnap the corrupt political

8. leader Nicolas Slobodan Chasyenjko for his war crimes against humanity.

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Then as part of a highly trained supremely fit fighting force when disguise and trickery was second nature, he been highly successful and was awarded the highest order of gallantry for putting the lives of others before his own.
But this time was altogether different.
He would have none of the surrounding benefits of teamwork, detailed briefings and intelligence systems to guide him on his way. Instead he would only be able to rely upon what he carried around with him in his head: the memory of his research findings and a razor - sharp Welsh intelligence to guide him on his way. He would have to rely upon what his research into the corrupt WJ group had told him, his courage and his determination to see the job through.
He knew that his life would be in grave danger at all times.
He also knew that it was something he had to do. Working as far as possible on his own he reasoned, he stood far less chance of been spotted, apprehended and killed.
"So why are you doing this?" asked Fabien.
"I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times. It's something I wondered about 33 years ago as a young lad. I didn't do anything about it for a very long time and over the past year it's as if it’s taken over my whole life. I have a gnawing feeling that if I don't do something about it, then nobody else will."
"But surely it’s a police matter? These people are highly dangerous Richard. They will stop at nothing to prevent you from doing what you feel you must. Why haven't the police done something about it? Why wasn't there a proper inquiry into the deaths of the man and his young daughter all those years ago? Why haven't the local people brought pressure to bear to get something done?"

9. "Everybody is so busy with their own lives these days.

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It’s my guess that it's something that people are just not bothered about. Maybe they didn't want to get involved.
They did nothing.
Things stayed the same.
So nothing happened."
"So; they are looking for you right now. What you going do? You can't stay here for ever."
"Don't worry I know how to look after myself." He grimly smiled to himself as he finished packing his few clothes and possessions into his rucksack. "Don't worry I'll be in touch. You’re a good friend Fabien. Without your help I have no doubt that I would have been tortured to death by now. I owe you my life."
"Think nothing of it amigo. I'll never forget how you saved my little sister from those hombres. To this day I have never seen anybody move so fast with such power in his fists. They never stood a chance."
"It’s all in the genes," Richard laughed, "I told you; my Dad was a National Amateur Boxing Champion of Wales at flyweight division. I owe all my strength and my speed to him. Goodbye my friend."
Richard slipped out of the backdoor of Fabien’s hotel into the balmy Majorcan night. He hailed a taxi and headed out to Palma airport. He had already contacted his mechanic so he knew his plane would be ready and waiting for him when he arrived.
Not a million miles away, Shanolla hadn't heard from Richard for the past week but that was nothing unusual so she wasn't particularly worried. She had long since stopped thinking about where he was or what he might be doing. She concentrated on enjoying herself.
Then he just appeared as if out of nowhere.

10. "We're using the tourist train tomorrow to go up into the mountains.

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I’ve arranged a meeting with an old friend and a new client for both of us for mid - day," said Richard.
Shanolla felt excited. She always marvelled at the places they had visited together since they first met at Wild Bay on 15th July 2002.
She cast her mind back to the Sahara when they had travelled on the Bedouin camels for six weeks to reach their destination. And to Nepal where they had only narrowly escaped death by a sudden avalanche that took away the whole road they were using. To Bangladesh where they would surely have drowned if they hadn't managed to reach a built-up reed bed in their shallow draught boat. And to Tokyo where they had felt so absolutely helpless in their top floor hotel room with an earthquake shaking everything around them.
Not knowing what lay ahead she stepped up with him onto the main travelling platform of the third coach of the number three tram. It was a beautiful antique piece of engineering. With its half panelled mahogany sides and interior chrome fittings it was a throwback to the 1950s. One spotlight illuminated its path at street level complemented by two others situated up on the roof. The driver stood upright with his hand on the solitary, polished brass control handle all ready to go. There was sufficient pine slatted seats to carry about 20 passengers, with the odd fitted wooden seat in corners and standing room for about 20 more. The driver had excellent all-round vision and the passenger windows could be conveniently bolted open at different heights for ventilation purposes. On its roof was a complicated system of metal poles, springs and wires to keep it in contact with the overhead live electrical cable. It rattled and rolled out of its Palma terminus, following silvery rails embedded in the road for about 10 minutes before leaving the city boundaries.

11. As soon as the city was left behind, Shanolla marvelled at the beauty of the sunny, level countryside with the mountains in the near distance.

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They passed large open fields of olives and almonds interspersed with bare orange coloured earth, scrub and scattered white walled, orange tiled, flat roofed, box like farm houses all connected she thought, by rather ugly looking electricity and telephone lines.
As the train steadily pulled up into the mountains the fields became smaller and smaller and they seemed more densely packed with bright oranges, yellow lemons, black olives and almond nuts. Hillsides were terraced with an intricate pattern of dry-stone walls almost close enough to touch from the moving train, marking one field off from the next. Some other fields were so small they only contained one tree right in the middle. Pine trees proliferated. Farmland had obviously been hard earned from the steep rocky slopes. Alongside the track, in more sheltered locations from the drying sun the leaves were a darker, shinier, waxy green. On two occasions the train had to stop for signals to change at the double track in the stations. However for the most part it was a single line track outside the towns. At one of the stations some of the passengers climbed out for a quick smoke and to admire the view.
But Richard felt they were being followed.
He felt uneasy and told Shanolla that they would get off at the next stop and catch the next train that came along.
Leaving it until the very last second just as the train was about to pull away they jumped off the platform away from the town. They quickly hid behind one of the low shrubby trees so that Richard could see whether or not anybody was following them. He kept himself and Shanolla close the ground and felt relieved when he saw that nobody

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one of the carriages of The Tourist Train, Palma, Majorca;

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derelict windmill, Majorca;

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Front Entance, Palma Cathedral, Majorca;

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Front Entrance, Palma Cathedral, Majorca;

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Palma Cathedral, Majorca;

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Lucinda, Francisco, and Jacinta, the three children of Fatima;

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coming in to Solero Town, Tramuntana Mountains, North West Majorca;

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in the Tramuntana Mountain Range, North West Majorca;

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Solero, nestling in the Tramuntana Mountain Range, North West Majorca;

12. else got off. Remaining well-hidden until the train had left its they crossed the track and walked down into the town.

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Diorama felt like a tranquil, welcoming sort of place. Built on relatively flat land with steep, rugged slopes and a bare, jagged rock skyline it seemed like a good idea to enjoy the sun, have a drink or two and chill out for a while. Although the town was well spread out up the three neighbouring valleys they decided to spend their time around the central square.
It was a most beautiful meeting-place for locals and tourists alike. Flanked by an imposing Gothic-style church whose steps and main door faced the square with its surrounding cobbled streets, cafes, bars, outside tables and chairs they spent a restful hour or so taking in the architectural sights, the sounds of the accordion player, a dinner - suited cellist and the wafting aroma of newly baked baguettes as they enjoyed each other company, their beers and surroundings.
Richard felt easy. That flinky, uncomfortable feeling of roughness and insecurity had quickly evaporated in the warmth of the sun. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to last.
All too soon the next train was arriving and they were on their way again. As an added precaution they climbed down at the penultimate station and caught a taxi into their destination for Richard to be personally briefed by Gary Shepherd. They booked into a three-star hotel in the middle of town from where Richard phoned his old friend.
That evening Gary came to their room. Richard was pleased to see his reaction upon meeting Shanolla and he explained that he wanted her to stay and hear everything he had to say. They sat down on chrome polished chairs topped with blue seat cushions round a small bare unvarnished pine table near the open window.
"I'm pleased you've come back but then in another way I'm not," said

13. Gary. "But I can't think of anybody better qualified by experience and background to take this on.

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The main problem that you're going to have is that the people in government, in civil service in London and in St John's know how to protect their own like nobody else. It's one of their great traditions never to break ranks. If somebody makes a mistake like Sir James Wrigglesworth did all those years ago then they see it as their unbounded duty to cover up for them.
One for all and all for one. That's how it is with them.
It's unthinkable that anyone even now, could be bribed or bullied into telling you the truth. But it's the truth I’m paying you to find out."
"So what exactly do you want the evidence to prove?"
"I want it to show conclusively for once and for all that they did it. That Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey deceived the committee responsible for allocating money from the British Colonial Fund into giving then $60,000 in 1935 to build houses for the workers at Wild Bay when in fact only 26 were ever built, some of them even without roofs. Good men and their families went through untold hardships due to those crooks and swindlers. My mother who was Mayor of the town until her death, had spent the whole of her life trying to make it a better place in which to live. But she and others before her had never got to grips with the underlining tradition of deceit, deception and unlawfulness that has always acted against them.
Of course in a purely physical sense, the township of Wild Bay has improved a great deal. They are a proud, hard-working, sincere and honest folk who with federal assistance from Ottawa brought in the Trans-Labrador Highway, Airport and other services that coupled with their own improved houses and job prospects, have together made Wild Bay a better place in which to live."

14. "So where's the problem? Why be so eager to pay me when everything doesn't sound too bad at all?"

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"It's their heritage, their culture, their tradition. It's in that sense I want you to help clear the air for us. To help us get rid of that uncomfortable feeling, the suspicions, the better keep my mouth shut way of thinking that needs sorting out once and for all."
"Are you referring to the part Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey played in the two deaths?"
"Yes. I am."
"I want the evidence to show how Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey collaborated to hide the truth about the deaths at Wild Bay."
Richard reflected upon his last assignment that brought the trio of Quigley, Orlowski and Loga Jeffrey to justice for the deaths Gary was talking about. He tried to think about any signposts to the role of people in high places but only vague ideas came to mind.
Richard looked at Shanolla who smiled and said, "He's not asking very much is he?" They both grinned then all three burst out laughing together. If this wasn't a tall order then nothing was!
Collect 62 year old evidence that was still valid and reliable enough to bring the culprits to justice. They would be too old to even walk to the stand!
It was now common gangland knowledge where the millions of the WJ Syndicate had originated from and since Richard also knew that their enemies could be enlisted against them, general strategy and tactics began to open up in his mind's eye.
In his dealings with the Afghanistan chiefs he had learnt a great deal about the value of misinformation and terror in manipulating people's lives. And since he had already collected substantive physical, oral, written and visual evidence about the deaths he agreed.

15. "I’ll need $50,000 now and the balance when the job is done."

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Shanolla gently rested her hand upon his arm and whispered in his ear, "This is too dangerous. Are you sure you want to take it?"
He nodded firmly.
They shook hands after making the necessary arrangements to collect the money in cash the next day. Gary was better than his word. He brought them the money and left an envelope containing the written instructions about how to access the rest of it when the job had been successfully completed. He left Richard to deposit the cash in smaller amounts at different banks in Palma.
The WJ Syndicate had been embroiled in a vicious gangland war with two other large organized gangs in a running battle for control of the illicit lucrative drugs trade and all sorts of crime along the coastline of southern France, Spain and northern Portugal for many years. Recently it had escalated as territories had shifted often on a daily basis as local gangs engaged in bitter knife fights, gunfights and bombings but no one group had yet established total dominance. Police forces covering those areas were so swamped with demands from daily policing that they never had sufficient manpower to complete their job. In many places local people were too frightened to go out-particularly at night. Fear of reprisal meant they had learned to keep their mouths shut rather than lose their lives and those of their family. The clubs, pubs, cafes, restaurants as well as literally thousands of small shop-owners were forced to pay protection money often to more than one gang or risk being ransacked, attacked and forced to close down. Many of the leading politicians and police officers in their own country were been handsomely paid to look the other way about what was going on.Only a very few exceptionally good, brave, strong-willed individuals

16. had managed to stay clean of the gangster influence.

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But they and their families were living under constant threat of the assassins' bullets or bombs. One such Chief Inspector was Samuel Broderick.
Over time, Broderick had built up sufficient respect from the criminal riff-raff, informants, suppliers and executors of their dirty business to have just managed to stay alive. He was generally seen as one of the untouchables. Somebody who could not and would not, under any circumstance allow himself to be corrupted. Despite all their terrible best efforts he had managed to keep his relatively small force of officers, to the best of his knowledge similarly clean. His men trusted him with their lives.
Broderick was about two metres tall. He did not look anything out of the ordinary until you looked him in the eye. Then it was possible for you to sense the quality of the man you were dealing with. He had the ability to fix you with a stare that left you in no doubt what he thought about you. He was a very kind, generous man to his friends and a flint - hard opponent to his enemies.
At some point down the road Richard expected to ask for Broderick's assistance.
But for now Richard had more immediate work to do back in London and he looked forward to staying with Shanolla in their new home on The Black Mountain of South Wales when they found the time.
After depositing his down payment in three separate banks they flew out in Richard's private plane landing at a small airport in Ashford, Kent. They caught a slow train into Waterloo followed by a tube train out to Kew Underground Station in West London.
There beside the beautiful lake with its live heron, outside the Public Record Office of the UK they explained to its chief executive why they

17. needed to study all the papers regarding Sir James Wrigglesworth and John Owen Jeffrey.

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A team of 10 researchers were soon put at their disposal and began work almost immediately.
Within the week they had found 63 separate items either directly or indirectly showing or implicating Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey in the original release and misuse of funds from the Colonial Office, in the cover-up of the deaths and in their output of misinformation that followed as they manipulated events to suit their own ends. The primary written evidence at the deepest level showed that Wrigglesworth was also personally responsible for suppressing the good work of such individuals as the Ranger at the Wild Bay Detachment by preventing him from filing the report of his investigation into the deaths.
Wrigglesworth's own departmental secretary in the best traditions of the British Civil Service had guarded the secretive actions of his master until his own death in 1940 brought on by the nervous exhaustion he suffered when ordered to the position of Government Director of Jeffrey's Company.
On 3rd February 1940, the very same day on which news of the deaths reached Wrigglesworth, his secretary had taken up his new post. Within a week he was dead. Brought on by his own inability to reconcile his over–riding sense of loyalty to Wrigglesworth with what he had been told in utmost confidence. He had been unable to bring himself to talk with anybody and it had psychologically torn him apart.
The running battle from 1934 to 1949, between the Departments of Natural Resources and Justice, for control of the Newfoundland Rangers could now be seen for what it truly represented. Not caused by petty departmental jealousies, the battle was primarily due to the

18. damning fact that if Wrigglesworth or any subsequent Commissioner of Natural Resources had allowed the role of the Newfoundland Rangers to fall

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under the authority of the Department of Justice then the cleverly concealed truth about who had covered up the deaths would be bound to come out. In fact, Wrigglesworth remained so concerned that the truth would disentangle itself from the lies that he continued to direct and influence affairs of government in Newfoundland and Labrador through his loyal secretary from his home in Maccynleth, north Wales.
Jeffrey had even offered Wrigglesworth the glory of having a settlement on the coast named after him. An offer he foolishly accepted.
It clearly showed how he was influenced by his friends.
The written evidence showed the immorality of Wrigglesworth who accepted cash gifts from Jeffrey as official help in setting up his new business.
Furthermore, Wrigglesworth was also guilty of allowing Jeffrey the luxury of exporting his pit props from Wild Bay tax free without any royalties or restrictions of any kind to pay. Not a crime in itself but corroborating evidence against a man who had become politically corrupt .
Silence speaking volumes could be heard from reading the memorandums and letters from Justin Harcourt, the Secretary of State for Dominion Affairs and from Jeremy Lloyd, Prime Minister at the time. By recalling Wrigglesworth to London so soon after his appointment the evidence clearly showed that they knew that something was seriously wrong at a very early stage. They were most displeased that Wrigglesworth had even considered giving his name to a place that he had regarded as his baby. It was nothing short of

19. utterly bad form and unheard of anywhere throughout Great Britain’s Empire. It cast grave doubt about their own political credibility.

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Wrigglesworth's actions had threatened political careers.
He had to go and the sooner the better.
He was more than politically naive and incompetent in his old age. He had become a dangerous liability.
By the time they recalled Wrigglesworth to London in the Christmas of 1934 only a few months after his appointment, they realised they had been duped into allocating the $60,000 at such a difficult financial time for the government for 600 houses to be built at Wild Bay. They were livid with Wrigglesworth for having personally recommended Jeffrey. They knew that Jeffrey was using the borrowed money to suit himself.
Although the Secretary of State and the Prime Minister and quite possibly the whole Cabinet had lost all trust in both Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey they never let the breakdown in communication become public knowledge. They made certain that their responsibility for Wrigglesworth’s appointment and their financial support for Jeffrey had remained hidden from public view until the papers had become “Open” from 1996.
Without Wrigglesworth's recommendation underwritten by the Secretary of State and the Prime Minister it is most unlikely that Jeffrey could ever have afforded to set up his pit prop export operations in the first place. Without Jeffrey the financial swindles and subsequent deaths would most likely never have happened. The written evidence showed that the Secretary of State backed–up by the Prime Minister had all been actively involved in the extensive cover-up of the deaths that took place six years after Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey first met and started working together.
Armed with their documentary evidence, Richard and Shanolla caught

20. the Heathrow Link from London and from there it was a short hop by plane to Cardiff.

2004-07-29T13:06:00.000-07:00
Two and a half hours later they were in front of their coal fire, putting on the kettle and settling down in the deep red comfy sofa with a glass or two of their favourite honey tasting Vouvray wine, cases of which they had specially shipped over from the Loire Valley in north-western France to their home in The Black Mountain.
The magnificent pointed slate roofed Chateau they'd visited. The fine seafood and other meals they had eaten. The ballet they went to; how much food and drink they had consumed and how their old car had broken down all provided entertaining conversation. They fell fast asleep in each other's arms.
Up at the crack of dawn and after a full cooked breakfast of cereal, eggs, bacon, tomatoes, toast and marmalade washed down with strong, hot honey tea, they togged up and set off into the mountains where Richard had been born and brought up. The November weather was chilly but not yet cold and when the sun had evaporated the early morning magical mists swirling and filling the valleys it was a glorious day to be alive. They set off at a cracking pace up the rough stream -bed of track behind their house until very soon all traces of civilisation had been left far behind. It was wild country and they loved it. The only evidence for humans they could see was the solitary road and the old dry stonewalls built largely since the 17th century by the sheep farmers.
Gradually the lush grass and woods of the valley fell away as they climbed up high on to the Black Mountain.
Soon everywhere was clothed in purple, red and white flowering heathers. The blustery wind washed and freshened their faces and the going was good. They walked without a break for three hours until they reached the inn at Cwmllynfell on the other side. They felt good

21. about themselves as they ordered two pints of ale followed by a ploughman's lunch of black pudding, Cheshire, Cheddar and Stilton cheeses, pickled

2004-07-29T13:05:00.000-07:00
onions and eggs with doorstep slabs of fresh, crusty wholegrain bread. Between them they wolfed the lot. Feeling warmed as much by the friendly atmosphere as by the roaring log fire they stayed there for the whole afternoon and were considering staying overnight when the barman called out, "Phone call for a Ms. McCarthy."
Shanolla suddenly felt a pit open up in the bottom of her stomach. She sensed something was horribly wrong and felt terribly frightened but tried to hide how she was feeling. She took the call at the end of the almost empty bar and kept her back towards Richard who also felt that something was seriously wrong. When she returned to their spot by the fire all colour had drained from her rosy cheeks and her eyes were full of tears.
"It's about Mother. They've put her in the hospital near Fatima after she was attacked in her own home by thugs armed with baseball bats. They've broken both her legs and arms Richard and the doctor who treated her suggested it would be a good idea if I can get to her bedside as soon as possible."
She couldn't stop crying and she was shaking uncontrollably. Richard grabbed her and pulled her gently towards him, holding her tight and close.
"What shall we do?" she said.
"We'll have to see if there is a plane for hire at Swansea airport or catch the next Scheduled flight to Lisbon. There's nothing else we can do for now."
One of the old farmers sitting nearby had overheard most of their conversation and kindly offered to run them to the airport in his 4 X 4

22. straight away. They were grateful for the lift and were soon on the last scheduled flight leaving at five minutes past midnight.

2004-07-29T13:01:00.000-07:00
By 0400 hours they were at Roseanne's bedside. The doctor told them there had been some internal bleeding and they should prepare themselves for the worst. He didn't know whether or not at 86 years of age she had sufficient strength and will power to pull through.
It had been Anton Moretti one of the WJ syndicate who had followed Jeffrey's personal orders to create the impression that it was Shanolla's association with Richard that brought the trouble upon herself. By attacking her defenceless old Mother they had set out and succeeded in hurting Shanolla as much as possible. But they hadn't bargained that Shanolla’s resolve would only be strengthened by what happened. She loved Richard so much that absolutely nothing would now push them apart. But even she paled at the thought after a small parcel had arrived for Richard at the local sorting office in Fatima. As he unwrapped it and they both looked inside Shanolla turned away and was violently sick. On the open sheet of tin foil about 10 centimetres square was a human eye, ear and a hand with a note made up from newspaper letters:

YOUR FRIEND

His body had been so badly mutilated when the Spanish police cut it down from the street lamp-post where it had been hanging that Gary Shepherd had to be identified from his dental records. All his finger and toenails had been ripped out and both eyes were missing. He had been tortured to death in a disused warehouse in the East End of Barcelona. He had been taken there three days after his last meeting with Richard and Shanolla. He'd been kept blindfolded and locked in

23. the trunk of a car. He had been given nothing to eat or drink. His torturers wanted to find out about Richard's latest mission.

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They never realised they Gary was acting on behalf of his mother whose good work he was bound to continue after she and his father had died. He didn’t tell them anything.
At the hospital Richard was now composing a letter to Giuseppe Frantori, the leader of the gang fighting against WJ and other smaller outfits for control of the coastal drug traffic.
Dear Mr Frantori,
I have in my safe keeping something I know will be of interest to you. Used wisely it will cause great harm to WJ operations and with a highly intelligent businessman like yourself in charge will probably destroy them all together leaving you and your people in complete control. I have in my possession written evidence of how the Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey families stole a large amount of money under false pretences in the past and how they conspired to subvert the course of justice by concealing the evil part they played in two deaths. The time has now arrived when I need a good man like you to clear the streets of such riff-raff.
They deserve to suffer.
They deserve to be locked up for the rest of their lives.
Only you and I can bring this about. To rid this place of such filth for once and for all. But we must make our plans together in a spirit of good business to flush out the truth and bring them to justice.
I'm therefore writing to ask you for a meeting to maybe set up a trap for the vermin. I would like us to talk more about this proposal and if you would phone me on 627468579 I would be most grateful.
Looking forward to our new business arrangement.

24. Yours sincerely, Richard Ap Meurig

2004-07-29T12:58:00.000-07:00
Richard signed it, put it in his pocket for posting later and returned to Roseanne’s bedside.
The patient came round for a short while; didn't seem to recognise anybody or anything around her and fell back into unconsciousness. Shanolla was distraught to see her mother like this because they had always been so happy ever since they had been reunited with Richard's help. Shanolla noticed her mother's hand moving on top of the blanket and she held it tightly in both of hers. Roseanne was pulling her towards her. Shanolla leant forward putting her ear close up to her mother's mouth. She heard her Mother's slightest whisper yet perfectly clear name of, "Nathan Williams, Nathan, Nathan Williams," she quietly said.
"Is that who attacked you?"
"Yes, he and two others."
"Mother, what were their names?"
"Joshua and Lance, yes, I heard those names too."
"Did they say anything else?"
"No apart from talking amongst themselves, what they were going to do with me and so on they said nothing. I'm so tired now."
Roseanne underwent seven separate operations to repair broken bones and soft tissue injury. With Shanolla virtually living at the hospital she pulled through although she was permanently crippled for the rest of her life. She could only ever walk again with the aid of crutches and later on with two walking sticks.
Richard knocked on the door of the grand - looking condominium. He suffered a complete body search before he was allowed to enter the darkened room. A voice from a corner said, "Good afternoon Mr.

25. Meurig will you please sit down, I have been looking forward to meeting the man who single-handedly has caused WJ such difficulties.

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Giuseppe Frantori slowly lifted his massive body from the oversized armchair and waddled across the room dressed only in his dressing-gown and slippers to shake hands. They sat down, drinks were brought to the table and they discussed general and more specific matters late into the afternoon.
When Richard left each one had been given a clear idea of what the other one wanted. Except of course, for the fact that Richard kept his true motives well hidden.
Frantori had seemed very interested in what Richard had to say about the written evidence they had unearthed. They both wanted the same thing: for WJ to collapse and Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey to be imprisoned. They had agreed to meet again next day to work out the details of their plan. But that night Richard had other ideas.
He returned to his hotel room on La Promenade d'Anglais with a bagful of purchases. He put it down in front of the dressing room table, washed and dried himself very thoroughly and started to apply his disguise.
Three hours later, Jacob Fishlock was once again about to do his regular dirty work. He called in on about 20 pimps and a cell of drug money collectors.
For the past six months as a member of a drugs cell he had been one of their enforcers, making sure that money was always paid in full. He had quickly and successfully infiltrated the drugs network of the WJ Syndicate and become a trusted man. Whilst all the time feeding top intelligence about the gangsters’ operations to Interpol. However, despite their best efforts, the police had been unable to ensnare the gang's leaders who throughout the operations always seemed to be

26. one step ahead.

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Operating only in small cells, on a strict need to know basis, with lines of communication kept deliberately short, it was extremely unlikely except through some very good fortune, or lack of care on the part of the cell members that the leaders behind the operations would ever be caught. The money that continuously streamed into their Swiss bank accounts had travelled around the globe sometimes many times before reaching them. It had been laundered on a gigantic scale. Money from criminal activity became cash flow for respectable businesses, transferred into open share transactions on a variety of stock exchanges before it came anywhere near their accounts and the street level money distribution cells. The illegal proceeds of their criminal activities had become whiter than white by the time it reached Switzerland.
Jacob Fishlock was concentrating his activity on the steady accumulation of intelligence about the ruthless, sophisticated and aggressive cells of drug transportation, trafficking and distribution all along the coast. He was passing invaluable information about drug abuse and about the land, sea and air access points and routes used by drug pushers and their couriers. Powder and crack cocaine from Colombia and Mexico. Heroin from south-east Asia and marijuana from Afghanistan were all gradually intercepted by Interpol officers acting on Richard's tip-offs. Catching couriers who had swallowed pellets covered in polythene to hide them from X-rays was one spectacular success; removing $25 million worth of drugs before they hit the streets. Richard had seen a shift from the stigma of using needles to the habit of snorting heroin, especially amongst the rich. The greater ingestion causing much more addiction amongst the junkies. Richard had been involved with a transportation cell in the organisation of couriers' timetables, pick-up and drop-off points. He'd witnessed more

27. and more young girls forced into prostitution to feed their addiction.

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As a WJ gang member he knew that Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey were themselves regular users but they were always careful not to be directly involved themselves in the dirty trade.
After Jacob had finished for the night he returned, slept most of the next day and crafted his next disguise that turned him miraculously into the most feared killer of his time – El Durmiente, Le Dormeur, O Dorminhoco – The Sleeper.
He finished cleaning his Biretta 21 Bobcat pistol and dismantling his A398 long gun before tucking them away in a large supermarket plastic carrier bag. He had become Mr. Middle–Aged Anonymous in trousers, plain white tee shirt and leather sandals. He had become virtually invisible. He was one of thousands of tourists heading for Monaco at the end of November for the delayed last Grand Prix of the year.
Before he could even think about implementing the plan he and Frantori had worked out, he had a small matter of three vermin to dispose of - Nathan Williams, Joshua Kyrylo and Lance Takooree.
He bought his ticket at the minimalist State railway station in Marseilles, climbed aboard the electrified train and set off for the Principality of Monaco. He was now just another tourist setting off to enjoy the Formula One Grand-Prix travelling between the foot of the Southern Alps and the Mediterranean in economy class. He had found out from the transportation and money movement cells where Williams, Kyrylo and Takooree were going and where they could be found.
Their chequebooks were bulging with the €20,000 each they had been given for beating up Roseanne McCarthy. They were feeling mighty pleased with themselves. Their escort girls all arranged and paid for by

28. WJ were arriving later on in the morning.

2004-07-29T12:53:00.000-07:00
They planned to spend the day at the race, the evening at the Grand Casino and enjoy the girls in whenever they felt like it. If they had only known who was coming for them they would have been frightened out of their wits.
They would have known for certain that even Deo Juvante, (With God's Help,) the motto of Monaco as it so happened, they were already as good as dead.
The Sleeper was the complete professional assassin operating completely on his own everybody thought. He was very careful about the calculated risks he took and nobody had the slightest idea about his true identity. If anybody had lived to tell the tale they would have told you that it felt like a living nightmare was in their head once they knew that he was after them.
He walked straight past the Receptionist at the Hotel Olivarez who didn't even bother raising her eyes from the magazine she was reading. Walked briskly up to Room 103 on the first floor, quietly screwed the silencer in place on his pistol; knocked and waited. The door opened and Richard shot Williams upwards through the mouth so that the bullet lodged in his brain. Then he calmly and silently went from one bedroom to the next shooting Kyrylo and Takooree in the head whilst they slept. He pulled Williams's body away from the door, unscrewed the silencer and put it and its pistol back into the carrier bag. He left by a fire escape at the end of the landing and when he was in the back alley outside the hotel he changed into a light blue, smart casual jacket, black trousers, white open-necked shirt and black shoes and immediately headed back to catch the next train to Marseilles except this time he changed at Nice.
On the seaward side of Lisbon, with beautiful views over the Atlantic Ocean stood one of the mansions belonging to Gareth Probert Jeffrey,

29. the son of John Owen Jeffrey the crooked owner of the Labrador Development Woods Company

2004-07-29T12:50:00.000-07:00
who 68 years ago had a dream, a vision, that he could exploit the thousands upon thousands of hectares of top quality trees around Wild Bay, on the south eastern coast of Labrador. His father had been such an enthusiast with so much fire in his belly that he carried the weaker spirits of the civil servants running the Departments of Natural Resources and Public Utilities of the Commission of Government in Newfoundland along with him. The tradition of lying, cheating and threatened disclosures that was to follow on had been established. Now in 2002 it had long since become normal routine for the descendants of Jeffrey to conduct their affairs in that way. Their cunning and devious ways meant they had always avoided been caught as they paid out vast sums of money to lawyers, police and political leaders to look the other way. They could well afford to do so because they were a family of multi – millionaires. In Jeffrey’s case his liquid assets alone amounted to over $1,500 million. Working in a business partnership with the Wrigglesworth family, Jeffrey’s Mafia connections throughout the Mediterranean, the Caribbean, South and North America, Europe, Africa and Australia meant their worldwide, global network protected him and his family wherever they went. They lived a life of unashamed luxury on the proceeds of their life of drug trafficking, crime, torture and terror. They had developed lucrative business arrangements with terrorists and other extreme organisations. Fanatical people who would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
Now Jacob Fishlock was studying the whereabouts of Anton Moretti; one of Jeffrey's top lieutenants who had organised the brutal treatment dished out to Roseanne. He was to be the first member of the WJ hierarchy that Fishlock was setting-up for the bigger fish to

30. follow. Frantori and Fishlock had already agreed that a huge heroin, crack and powder cocaine deal should be negotiated

2004-07-29T12:49:00.000-07:00
with one of the Colombian cartels that were currently Frantori's main supplier. Then Moretti would be informed when the 24 container shipment would dock at Pilbury, a few miles outside Bristol on the southern bank of the River Severn Estuary in England. Moretti would be led to believe that the shipment would be his for the taking.
Moretti saw the notification of the huge drugs shipment like an offer he couldn't refuse. The misinformation fed to him meant he had convinced himself that a major theft was on the cards. Moretti, the Prince of Thieves. He loved the sound of it and his status with Mr Jeffrey and the rest of WJ would rocket.
Unbeknown to Moretti, 50 of Frantori's men had already boarded the drug traffickers' ship off the Isles of Scilly. They had been expected by the Colombian traffickers already on board. The ship slowed down as it approached its berth at the docks. Moretti and his men were hidden in the many old cobbled alleyways that sailors had used many years ago to reach their ships. They were unlit and invisible from on board. As soon as the gangplank was lowered by the small crane down on to the dockside Moretti led his men to take over as quickly as possible.
They never made it.
None of them.
Heavily outnumbered they were cut to pieces by heavy machine gun and small-arms fire from the enemy gang who had been lying in wait behind crates and containers and whatever else they could find on deck.
Moretti’s body was taken away to be posted to Mr. Jeffrey. To be signed for in person, naked and full of bullet holes in a long wooden crate.

31. But by the time Moretti’s body arrived at the Jeffrey’s castle in Wales

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they had already heard about the mess he had made of things and without opening it, burnt it in a metal incinerator at the bottom of their Italian style vegetable garden.
Whilst at the Wrigglesworth mansion outside Lisbon they had a great sense of unease ever since Richard's escape from their prison hospital.
"How the blazes did he escape ? He was in no fit state to go anywhere," said Harold James to Lessonfield, his right hand man.
"We had guards posted outside his ward yet the very next night after his surgery, which I don't suppose he knew anything about anyway, he had gone. We found absolutely no trace of him whatsoever. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air. We searched all round the grounds and amongst all our contacts in the City and we found neither hide nor hair of him. It's like all of a sudden he doesn't exist any longer.”
"Have you spoken personally with all our policemen to see what they know?" said Wrigglesworth.
"Nobody knows anything."
Lessonfield was feeling very agitated yet he dared not show his frustrations to his master. He had learned a long time ago what happened to people who didn't do Wrigglesworth's bidding. Usually they just disappeared but sometimes news of their torture and their suffering at the hands of a slow sadist who enjoyed his gruesome work filtered back to the house. If the descriptions of the screams and the cries had been only half-true then it was sufficient warning that Wrigglesworth should always be obeyed without question. To risk his wrath was a fate worse than death. Wrigglesworth found sadistic pleasure in his exercise of power and by inflicting the most ghastly, imaginable pain on others. He was a sick sadist.

32. "Go and call O'Brien in the Ministry in London to see what he knows about Ap Meurig's whereabouts."

2004-07-29T12:47:00.000-07:00
Lessonfield knew that Wrigglesworth was fast running out of options if he had to contact the Foreign and Colonial Office for information. He was surprised that the Italian Mafia hadn't been contacted to find Ap Meurig. But he thought to himself he should never be surprised whenever drugs were involved.
Wrigglesworth's organisation had grown up and survived because he had known when to involve others in its internal affairs.
But this was becoming personal.
Wrigglesworth had already heard about the loss of Moretti and a large number of Jeffrey's men. He had also heard about the recent assassinations of Moretti's henchmen in Monaco. Getting rid of Gary Shepherd had been well done, if that didn't frighten Ap Meurig off then nothing would.
Shepherd had long been a thorn in the side of Wrigglesworth. Lessonfield felt pleased that Wrigglesworth had praised him for the way he had removed him from the scene without any awkward questions being asked by the local police.
Wrigglesworth sat down again to finish his breakfast and papers from around the world. Looking out over the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean from his French chateau on the ancient rocky cliff tops in Portugal he felt proud at what he had achieved. The extremely spacious Chateau had 26 en - suite bedrooms, three dining rooms, two breakfast rooms, morning, afternoon, and evening rooms. With a staff of butlers, maids, chefs, cooks, chauffeurs and cleaners it ranked alongside the Savoy in London for its luxury. The finest Italian marble had been used for its floors. Expensive best tropical hardwoods had

33. been used for the staircases and panelling.

2004-07-29T12:46:00.000-07:00
Curtains were made from the finest silk from Indonesia. The carpets were from India with elephant, Taj Mahal and other wonderfully intricate shapes, colours, stitching and designs. The ceilings were detailed gold–leaf designs from around the world ranging from landscape scenes in the Rocky Mountains to abandoned crofts in Scotland.
Wrigglesworth and his family of Farah his wife; Roxanne, Tabitha and Shannon his daughters and Christopher, Jason and Paris his sons wanted for nothing. The children each had their own private butler and housemaid who travelled the world with them. Whenever they weren't attending the fee - paying, public school at Gordonstun in Scotland or Eaton, Windsor in England.
Yet despite all their trappings of wealth they were an unhappy family with the children only visiting when they were told to and all the gold leaf designs somehow or other not ringing quite true. Like his father and his before him, the over–powering Harold James Johnston Wrigglesworth was a common bully. He was feared and unloved even by his own wife and family.
After six weeks in Fatima Hospital, Roseanne had made sufficient recovery to be allowed home. However, she didn't want to return to her own home so soon after the attack. Therefore Shanolla had made arrangements for them both to stay at a small villa near the beach at
Faro in the South. Although it was a limited amount of walking they could do they spent valuable time together looking around the medieval walled town with its vibrantly coloured tiles, narrow whispering streets and ancient Moorish style architecture. In the morning they enjoyed sitting down together under the palm trees on one of the many white, metal seats around the placid, lagoon - type harbour. Packed out with small boats of every description with their

34. masts, sails and cabins of different styles

2004-07-29T12:44:00.000-07:00
they were both enjoying the rest even though their relationship was strained at times by Roseanne's condition. They enjoyed watching all the local people and the tourists go past and from the offshore shell fish farms they had a crab and oyster lunch, fresh crusty bread and a tangy white Sauvignon. In the afternoon they returned to their hotel and after a few ice-cold orange juices Shanolla helped her Mother with her physiotherapy in the swimming pool.
At the end of the exercises they went out again. Roseanne only needed one of her walking sticks with Shanolla helping her. They had just turned into a small street when they were greeted by a funny sight. Lots of men were standing around, supposedly at work but not really working at all. Maybe they were working out what was best to do they thought. Maybe it was too hot for them to work. A small pick-up truck had his off - side, front wheel stuck halfway down a hole in the backstreet and water was gushing out everywhere. Roseanne and Shanolla couldn't help but see the funny side of it because it all looked so ridiculous as if everything that could go wrong had gone wrong at the same time. They assumed it would be all sorted out and carried on with their walk.
At the Cafe Opera they were served by a waitress who couldn't stop telling them all about Lucia of Fatima who apparently was only allowed to ever speak with the Pope. A large, rather oversized Portuguese lady sat down nearby and joined in their conversation about the apparitions of The Virgin Mary that Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco had seen. Roseanne was a religious woman and thoroughly enjoyed the talk. Shanolla on the other hand, didn't really know what to make of it all. At the very least she thought to herself it was very good for the tourist trade as pilgrims travelled from all over the world to the scene of the

35. Apparitions bringing more prosperity to Fatima and the surrounding Liera district.

2004-07-29T12:43:00.000-07:00
But as more and more souvenir shops opened up on Fatima High Street many local people complained that it was not the sort of prosperity they wanted.
"Com'on mother it's time for us to go," said Shanolla as she could see that Roseanne was noticeably tiring. They stepped outside on to the cobbled pavement and felt the beautiful cool breeze waft over them as it was drawn in from over the sea.
"Let's catch The Azul back to Lisbon tomorrow," said her Mother. "I've always wanted do that journey and now is as good a time as any."
Shanolla also loved travelling by train and she was doubly happy that her mother felt up to it.
"That would be wonderful," she said. “It's a journey I've also thought of doing many a time but never got round to it.”
(A Roundtoit, a small Newfoundland wooden plaque, was one of their standing jokes. Once they'd started laughing they could barely stop.)
They boarded The Azul with its additional motor rail wagons for some of the passengers cars, at 1500 hours on the next day after been told at the train station by a beautiful Senora, black haired, bright eyed girl who kept on giggling that it would be a really quick and quiet journey. Bumpety bump, Bumpety bump, Bumpety bump, Clickety clack, Clickety clack with a double loud blast from their hooter the Choimbra Azul was on its way.
To begin with they both looked out on the parched, thin, red and brown desperately poor, stone-littered soils here and there tufted with whitened grass and a few struggling, straggling hardy trees.
"Look at those houses; they're not doing very well are they?" Shanolla said to her mother.

36. "There are plenty of them down around these parts. Scattered, red-tiled, white-walled, abandoned farmhouses without electricity,"

2004-07-29T12:42:00.000-07:00
she replied. "Many folk had to leave the land and their livelihood because they just couldn't make a go of it any more. They tried and tried but in the end they just weren't earning enough to keep their lovely farms alive," said Roseanne.
The landscape changed as The Azul clattered its way northwards. They both appreciated the more welcoming hills and valleys they passed through. They marvelled at the bright yellow sunflowers with heads either perkily raised or nodding to the hot sun on the Alentejo plains. They laughed quietly together at the sight of a busty girl messing about with her luggage and bra straps holding on to the top shelf as the train was helter-skeltering along. They laughed when they got up out of their seats on what they now playfully called The Wild West Express and tried to make it along to the buffet car. Across the metal jointing foot plates between the carriages was the scariest bit of all. At the counter they each collected a triple-decker bread sandwich from two men working flat-out in the tiny confined galley space where there was hardly enough room to turn round, let alone cook and serve three-course meals, snacks and drinks at the same time.
North of Beja, about three and a half hours out of Faro, they both enjoyed the lusher vegetation and healthy-looking trees with fewer of the dreaded white crosses to say they should be cut down. 11 hours after leaving Faro they pulled in at long last to Porto Campanha station. They booked into a small hotel nearby and soon fell fast asleep. The next morning Shanolla could tell that her mother had stood up to the journey really well. She helped her on to the new train at Lisbon Appolonnia terminus for Chao de Macas Fatima, an out of town station to be met by Nadira one of Roseanne’s many friends.

37. Shanolla returned to Hotel Isparo to wait for Richard who was arriving about mid-day.

2004-07-29T12:41:00.000-07:00
It seemed like years since they had been together - they had both missed each other so much.
Shanolla was in her room when the hotel’s internal phone rang. Richard was waiting for her in the lobby. So much had happened since they last met, they wanted to tell each other so much but that could all wait.
Early next morning before breakfast was served at the hotel they walked about eight kilometres into Old Opporto following the River Douro, known as the River of Gold. They walked under four massive bridges and they would never forget the sight of the Pont St. Louis about 150 metres above the water with one side completely hidden in the dense, early morning river mist leaving the other side looking as if nothing was holding it up at all! They crossed the river on one of the wine schooners to sample the chilled Port deep in the Wine lodges spread along the hillside overlooking the river. On the other side they walked up the cobbled, narrow streets where it was lovely and cool at the bottom of the banks of bright houses built on top of each other some with their washing hanging out of small windows and drying in the breeze. They felt like they were walking through the people's living rooms because so much activity took place outside their front doors. They climbed up past the odd dog and the many small children running around on the steep slopes outside their homes. In between the adults sitting on the steps of their front doors or at the tables and chairs at bars and cafes, or selling souvenirs and bright yellow, blue, red and orange clothes from the front of their small shops.
"Look at all the fishermen down on the riverbank," said Shanolla. "Let's go and see what they've caught."

38. So they turned round and continued along the river bank checking the baskets as they went past.

2004-07-29T12:39:00.000-07:00
"One tiddler, that's the lot. But what's that black stuff further down there?" said Richard. As they approached they could see it was a large shoal of thousands of black looking fish, climbing on top of fish at an outfall into the main river about 10 metres below where they were standing.
"That must explain why there aren't any fish in the river by the fishermen," laughed Richard. "All you got to do is drop a bucket into that little lot and you've got more fish than you handle in a week."
"Yes, you'll certainly get a bucket load," Shanolla giggled, "and I will guarantee that it won't just be fish!"
The thought amused them both and their laughter caused other passers by to look over the edge of the wall as well. That made them laugh even more.
Later on in the evening Richard said, "The Festival de Carejes" is on tonight, shall we go?" Shanolla agreed and further out towards the river estuary it was a great atmosphere. With loud pop music, fire eaters walking high on stilts, loads of Super Beck being drunk from tall plastic columns of beer with their own taps set up at various tables from the beer stalls and a good variety of snacks available they really enjoyed themselves. But they both decided that they needed a nutritious meal, so they found a small restaurant where they ate a meal of bacaurah made from dried salted codfish from Newfoundland. The trouble was that their fish hadn't been soaked long enough so it was very tough and on top of that it was almost stone-cold. At least all the vegetables with fresh pineapple for dessert were delicious. The waiter just happened to tell them that there was 365 different ways to cook dried salted codfish!
URL.biz - Travel

39. Since the next day was a Sunday, 12th November 2002

2004-07-29T12:38:00.000-07:00
and since Richard was rather curious about Fatima he agreed to Shanolla's suggestion to go there so they could see her mother. They caught the 0630 hours auto bus, driven by what seemed to be a totally mad Portuguese driver who seemed to be more concerned about testing out his brand new speed machine over the cobbled roads than getting anywhere safely. It was all good harmless fun and nobody really minded at all. They caught the next train out to Fatima.
“We’re going high up into these mountains, maybe that takes us closer to God,” said Shanolla with a twinkle in her eye.
“I don’t know about all that but I do notice it’s getting considerably colder. Here, put your coat on,” said Richard as he draped Shanolla’s small denim jacket around her shoulders, not offering her much protection but better than nothing thought Richard to himself.
“It’s like that other ride into the mountains. Look Richard, look at all those sheep and dry stone walls but nothing much else as far as I can see. I love the simplicity of it all don’t you?”
“Maybe it’s the simplicity of the life that means it is closer to God.”
“My, aren’t we the philosophical one. Soon you’ll be telling me you’re religious!”
When they got off the station they breathed in the very clean air, took a 25 kilometre taxi ride into the town and booked in at the Hotel San Aremo, run by the same family who provided their taxi service into town. "Please Richard, let's go down to ‘The Sanctuary’ straight away I think you're going to be impressed."
Walking hand in hand, along the pavement, down the very busy main road of Fatima that was about 400 metres long they could have been a million miles away from the world of WJ and Frantori. There they were

40. - merely part of the thousands of people walking, eating, drinking or buying souvenirs

2004-07-29T12:37:00.000-07:00
from the large number of shops along the High Street.
"Don't you think all the shops, banks and restaurants rather spoil this place as a site of pilgrimage?" said Richard.
"It's only to be expected I suppose, with all the millions of people who come here each year. But I can understand that it's not your cup of tea, I know you don't think very much of the commercial world that we live in," Shanolla replied. "Com'on let's go and look at ‘The Sanctuary’ itself."
"Sanctuary, sanctuary for what?" queried Richard as much to himself as to Shanolla or anybody else who happened to be listening for that matter.
"It's nothing like the small, humble sort of place I imagined it would be. In fact it looks more like part of an airport runway. Look at that huge piece of architecture at one end, built by the Romans?"
"That's one of my mother's favourite places; it's called The Basilica. I'll show you the tombs of the three children in there later on."
They sat down together for a long time, it must have been an hour or more, on one of the very long stone benches around The Sanctuary, soaked up the unusual atmosphere of the place, pausing to reflect for a while about all the goings - on in their lives.
"I’m surprised it's so noisy aren't you?"
"Yes, it is rather odd, especially since the signs say that Fatima is a Quiet Place, A Place of Silence!"
They were both impressed to see the young, the old and the disabled crawling along on their knees the whole length of the runway, following a marble path to reach and crawl round the Chapel of Apparitions that marked the spot where Francisco, Lucinda and Jacinta

41. are believed to have seen the Virgin Mary speaking to them from a tree

2004-07-29T12:22:00.000-07:00
although it was only Lucinda who could hear what she was saying.
Sadly the tree had long since gone, torn down by souvenir hunters.
Within the packed-out Chapel where everybody was praying or listening to the prayers being said by the sisters, they could see a marble plinth with a statue of the Virgin Mary on top, placed at the exact spot where she had appeared to the children. They stayed in the Chapel for about 30 minutes, sitting about two metres from the statue of the Virgin Mary where they both said their own prayers. Richard found the whole atmosphere to be very moving and he was pleased that he had come but he didn't know how the priests and the nuns could keep on saying their prayers in never-ending style. He thought about two phrases he had read on the concrete walls at the other end of the runway:
‘God is Love’ and ‘I am the door, whoever comes in by me will be saved’.
He had amazed himself that he was sitting inside The Chapel at all.
Next they walked slowly inside The Basilica through the six metre high, massive old wooden door, after admiring all the 14 statues of saints high on top of the open colonnades outside enhancing the beautiful, semi-circular, classical external symmetry of the whole building.
Inside was more symmetrical beauty with 10 small chapels adjoining the main floor. Each of the small chapel's altars was decorated in gold leaf telling significant stories about Jesus’ life for the whole of humanity, for example, about The Crucifixion and The Resurrection.
The main floor of The Basilica was filled with four rows of pews with 28 seats in each row at which various people were kneeling or sitting.
High above the small side chapels were brightly coloured stained windows telling all about The Apparitions. Showing blinding flashes of

42. light, The Children and the Virgin Mary with a white rosary of beads in her hands.

2004-07-29T12:18:00.000-07:00
The tombs of Jacinta and Francisco were set in the floor on either side of the main altar. Each of their resting places was adorned with flowers and other gifts.
In front and to the right of the main altar they saw a large cross with an effigy of Jesus being crucified.
"It's the Berlin Wall you should see next," said Shanolla.
"What are you talking about?" said Richard. "Has all this God stuff sent you completely mad?"
"Come with me, I'll show you what I mean."
Since Richard was still in a sort of shock at how the site of pilgrimage had affected him, he wasn’t surprised that he allowed himself to be led tamely along. Sure enough, there it was: a large piece of the broken-down Berlin Wall just like she had said. He shouldn't have doubted that another surprise was always just waiting around the corner whenever he was with her.
They both looked at the thought - provoking exhibit in front of them.
"Why do you think it was broken down?"
"Why; because somebody needed building materials of course," said Richard in a matter-of-fact voice.
Shanolla chuckled, "I really do think you're totally mad sometimes."
"It definitely helps," said Richard with a smile on his face but seeing that exhibit had reminded him there were many different ways of solving problems, moving things forward, and bringing people to justice. ‘The use of extreme force isn't always the best way.’ whispered a little voice inside him. ‘An eye for an eye makes everybody blind,’ it said. But no matter which way he looked at what he was doing, he knew that he would have no other alternative than to

43. work things through for himself, as he had successfully done so my times before.

2004-07-29T12:17:00.000-07:00
After spending an evening with his future mother-in-law and seeing how well she had recovered, he kissed Roseanne and Shanolla farewell and caught the late train into Lisbon Paco terminus. His bed and breakfast was only a short walk away.
The next morning he changed into a nondescript labourer's outfit of work boots, trousers, shirt and coat. Pulled his black, flat cap down over his ears, checked his long gun and shells and caught a number six bus to within five kilometres of the Wrigglesworth mansion. About half a kilometre from the open road, slightly setback in the woods with a clear line of sight of the Lisbon - bound traffic; he set up his small, metal gun tripod, screened by a wall of leafy branches. He focussed his powerful telescopic sights and zeroed in on the road. He settled down to wait. He knew that a red Ferrari saloon would be passing at 1415 hours taking a certain person on his way to a new distribution cell near the city centre.
Lessonfield had worked himself up to become one of Wrigglesworth's top lieutenants in the hierarchy. Recently during his boss's frequent absences he had taken over the role of Top Dog in the organisation of the WJ drugs network in the southern Mediterranean area. He was about to attend the first meeting of the new distribution cell he had set up for the handling of the Puerto Rican narcotics trade after months of careful planning and negotiations. He felt completely secure that the cell's activities had been kept totally under wraps. Under no other circumstances would he have personally ventured out.
It was his first and last miscalculation.
By sheer coincidence one of the three members of the new cell was the brother of Jacob Fishlock's closest buddy in Marseilles. Richard had

44. discovered more by chance than by good judgement precisely when Lessonfield was going to move out from the high-security mansion.

2004-07-29T12:16:00.000-07:00
Now The Sleeper was waiting for him.
He reflected about how long he had known and respected the good work of Gary Sheppard and felt satisfied that he was about to be avenged.
Lessonfield climbed into the back seat of his chauffeur-driven Ferrari. The sun was shining as usual. It was a very still day, without a cloud in the sky as he poured himself a Scotch from the drinks cabinet. He settled back to enjoy the ride.
Richard concentrated his mind through the telescopic sights on the rear passenger seat when he first saw the Ferrari rise up over the hill. With a large truck in front and cars on the other side of the road making it impossible to overtake he was fortunate that it was only moving at about 40 kilometres per hour.
He settled again, made all the necessary adjustments, took careful aim and slowly squeezed the trigger.
The dum dum bullet made a neat hole in the rear passenger window before it exploded and blew the back of Lessonfield’ s head completely off.
Richard calmly and methodically cleaned and dismantled his A398 3.6 long gun. Packed it away in his carrier bag and left the scene along a forest track that he followed for about two kilometres before meeting the main road and catching the next bus that came along in five minutes back to his hotel.
He had made a clean escape as usual. He had left no visible trace of his presence behind.

45. There he changed, burnt all his work men's clothes in the fire grate and phoned Frantori's secretary.

2004-07-29T12:15:00.000-07:00
Their next meeting was arranged for Palma in three days time.
As soon as he had put the phone down he phoned Chief Inspector Samuel Broderick for a meeting tomorrow.
Chief Inspector Broderick duly met with Richard outside Fort Alban, a medieval turret at Paron Park. On one of the many mountain tops overlooking Nice. Richard had been first to arrive and he was looking out over the city when Broderick pulled up in a white Mercedes. He nimbly got out. At 62 years of age he was still quite athletic, walked towards Richard who turned round and shook hands.
Looking down on Old Nice, Broderick said, "Look at that nightmare of a place, it's a hothouse for crime. There are too many people living in one small space. It's all too much. If the public knew how much criminal activity went on in there they would want it closed down straight away. Anyway, enough of my problems Mr. Ap Meurig what can I do for you?"
"What you won't have been told Chief Inspector is that I work for Interpol. For the past few years the intelligence I have gathered has led to many convictions at the middle level of various organizations with which you are probably already familiar. Does the name of Jacob Fishlock mean anything to you?"
"Yes, his name is familiar to me and amongst my colleagues as that of an informant."
Richard handed over a copy of the latest apparently legal shipment of foodstuffs to Marseilles from Mexico. Within the barrels, crates and bales, acting upon Fishlock’s secret tip – off, customs officials had impounded $15 million worth of marijuana, amphetamines and heroin. Broderick was well aware of the seizure but until now he hadn't known

46. where the intelligence had come from. His policeman's instinct told him to believe what Fishlock was now telling him.

2004-07-29T12:14:00.000-07:00
"I need your help to flush out a couple of big fish," said Richard, feeling encouraged by Broderick's response.
"Who are they?"
"Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey," said Richard making no mention of his ultimate targets at government level.
"You must be joking. I've been trying to nail something on those two for over 30 years. They are absolute experts at covering every step of their dirty tracks. They have many, many friends in high places and I haven't really been able get anywhere near them. I honestly think that you’re wasting your time." Broderick hesitated, thought for a moment then reluctantly said, "I think they are beyond the reach of The Law."
"That’s your largely rhetorical law not mine," said Richard without hesitation with his grim reaper of a smile.
Richard pressed home his advantage because he could see that Broderick was very interested in anything that could bring Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey to the Courts.
"I've arranged a meeting with Giuseppe Frantori in Palma. He's already helped in taking Anton Moretti out from the equation and he would love to get his hands on a sheaf of papers I have in my possession about the original affairs of what became known as 'The Corrupt Wrigglesworth Group' in Government circles. The papers of original correspondence explain how the fathers of Jeffrey and Wrigglesworth conspired together in deceiving the British Government out of $60,000 worth of their own taxpayers' money and how John Owen Jeffrey persevered in that way, failing to meet the Government borrowing requirements that were imposed upon him. Furthermore, the correspondence points the way towards flushing out the truth about

47. the real part their fathers played in the cover-up that followed which included two deaths."

2004-07-29T12:12:00.000-07:00
Broderick liked the sound of what he was hearing. "Please Mr. Fishlock, go on. This sounds most promising."
"I also have in my possession, substantive evidence that the recent torture, mutilation and death of a Gary Shepherd were the result of the actions of a Mr. Lessonfield. And that a brutal attack on a Mrs. Roseanne McCarthy was down to the actions of a Mr. Moretti. Both of whom were acting on behalf of the WJ Syndicate, whilst gainfully employed for criminal and illegal purposes by Mr. Harold James Johnston Wrigglesworth and Mr. Gareth Probert Jeffrey. Sadly and unfortunately Lessonfield and Moretti have since passed away. I think at the hands of a tit for tat killer."
“Those two are never going to be missed that’s for sure,” said Broderick. “What do you want me to do?”
“Only when the time is right and it won’t be until about the Frantori meeting. I will need you and your men standing by at a minute’s notice to provide me with the firepower that we will undoubtedly need to bring in Wrigglesworth, Jeffrey and Frantori for trial.”
“You’ve got it. Just give me about a day’s notice so that I can arrange things for you.”
They shook hands. Richard jogged down the hundreds of steps of Lescaliers du Bois to Nice Harbour whilst Broderick drove off in the opposite direction. Both were brave men who went away feeling pleased, although neither was exactly certain how things would work out in the future.
In England, Sergio hadn't heard from Richard for about two years since their last mercenary adventure together in the jungles of Mozambique. Sergio concentrated on doing what he liked most;

48. keeping fit and girls.

2004-07-29T12:11:00.000-07:00
The order depending on his mood. He had recently purchased a house near Ealing Broadway, West London where he was currently living with his latest girlfriend Shenora, a black and very beautiful Mauritian of Creole descent. Sergio had fallen in love when he was only 18 years of age but the girl concerned hadn't seemed interested so he hadn't bothered. He hadn't done anything about it then except that in his heart and soul he remained true to her. He had had a string of girlfriends since then but ultimately nothing out of this world.
Sergio picked up labouring jobs without any trouble whatsoever because at 28 years of age he was physically in his prime whilst Shenora worked part-time in Brent Council, Inner London Housing Department helping people with their day-to-day problems and providing them with somewhere to live. Despite her work been tedious and tiring she usually rose to the challenge and felt she was doing a good job. But if the truth be told, she would much rather have been at home bringing up her own children and helping to improve the condition of their property. She was an intelligent, vibrant woman who loved going out and enjoying herself in London. Some evenings they would visit or invite friends round and enjoy their company over dinner. Shenora was a good cook and she made a renowned cup of tea. Blended from Darjeeling and Earl Grey with a touch of Assam. Sweetened only with honey. It was the best cup of tea Sergio had ever tasted.
Life in London was exciting.
There always seem to be something different going on. Different places to go to and different people to meet. Their friends like the city, were cosmopolitan.

49. For their annual holiday they went out to Port St. Luis in Mauritius

2004-07-29T12:10:00.000-07:00
where Shenora had relatives with whom they stayed. They would eat, drink, make love, dance, sunbathe, swim, snorkel, climb into the mountains and generally relax from the pressures of London life.
They were reasonably happy.
They had invested well in their West London property, seeing it reach £275,000 in the two years since they had first bought it and they had both recently joined a local health and fitness club round the corner from where they lived. Sergio drove an old rather battered Bentley that he would only exchange over his dead body. It just kept on going and going. Never really causing him any trouble Thank God because he was not the most mechanically minded person in the world. None of his family or relatives was still alive as far as he was aware of. There were all killed in Kosovo, in war-torn Yugoslavia. He remembered it as if it was yesterday.
He had been completely unable to contact his mother or father, or his two brothers and two sisters over the telephone. He remembered how he had no reply from his two uncles and aunts he had also tried to phone. He remembered how on the television screen he had recognised that area of town where they had all lived as a family. It had been obliterated by a cruise missile fired from an offshore American destroyer. No civilian casualties had been the propaganda broadcast afterwards, applauding the no casualties suffered by the US forces and their clinical strikes on the local TV and radio station, the road and railway bridges across the river and all the anti-aircraft batteries around the town. He still felt a great sense of loss. Anger more than anything else ruled his soul. Feelings of bitterness continually gnawed away at his inner being and it was only his generally sunny disposition that kept them at bay. Although he loved

50. walking through the Pennines and North Yorkshire Moorlands, the high ridges of the North Western Highlands and Islands of Scotland,

2004-07-29T12:09:00.000-07:00
particularly in the Isle of Skye and throughout the Brecon Beacons and Snowdonia National Parks in Wales it wasn't real adventure for him.
That's why when he picked up the phone to answer Richard's call he said, "I thought you were dead. It's been about two years since we last worked together. My life is pretty humdrum. My feet are itchy and I don't know why you haven't called earlier. What do you want this time?"
He laughed because Richard hadn't managed to get a word in edgeways.
"I'm in Nice at the moment. Listen; I want you to fly down here tomorrow, bring all your gear with you, your climbing stuff and I will pick you up from the back of the airport car park."
Richard couldn't say anything else over the phone and he breathed a sigh of relief when Sergio didn't ask any more questions and just said of course he was coming down. He knew that something big was on the cards. It always was when Ap Meurig phoned. He couldn't think of a single occasion when they had been in Special Forces together when it had been any different. Two years had been too long by half. He was ready and started packing his suitcase and other bags almost as soon as he put the phone down. He was happy he had kept himself in tip-top physical condition because he had a very strong feeling that what lay ahead would test them both to the absolute limit.
Jeremy O'Brien had dreaded picking up the telephone in his office at Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs in London when switchboard had told him he had a call waiting from a Mr. Lessonfield in Portugal. WJ had kidnapped Lisa his wife and Amy Lee his three-year-old daughter and he hadn't heard from them for over two years. They told him that

51. if he just so much as contacted the police then he would never see them alive again.

2004-07-29T12:07:00.000-07:00
He had every reason to believe them because in all that time he had only ever received one handwritten letter from Lisa telling him to fully co-operate or else they would both be sent home to him in shoe boxes.
O'Brien was private secretary to Sir Richard Merrick, Minister of State at the Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Office in London. O'Brien was present in the room and told not to take any minutes at the discussion that followed between Sir Richard and The Right Honourable, Daniel Burnell M.P., Prime Minister.
"Prime Minister am I right in assuming that you have heard by now of the discovery of original correspondence referring to a wood-cutting business that was unprofessionally supported 62 years ago by one of my predecessors, a Sir James Wrigglesworth in Canada and which clearly indicates a cover-up of two deaths?"
"Yes. The papers were actually released 1996-1998 but it wasn't until last year that Mr. Ap Meurig whom we all thought was merely a freelance academic researcher, brought them into the full light of the public domain. Since then nothing but trouble seems to have followed Mr. Ap Meurig around wherever he went. Although I must say, a great deal of that is due to the excellent work he has been involved with on our behalf.
The papers were clearly seen as incriminating at the time and their content would have placed grave doubts in people's minds about the credibility of our people in high office at the time of the Second World War. It was the gravest of times in our country’s history, when the people of this country and of Newfoundland most needed to trust their leaders. Therefore it was decided to close the papers from public view. It would be churlish to deny that our predecessors hoped that the

52. relatives and those responsible for the deaths would have all passed away by now, removing the need for any more awkward questions to be asked.

2004-07-29T12:04:00.000-07:00
But in this case the passage of time’s healing effect seems to be following a circuitous path towards the truth.
"What are you saying Prime Minister?"
"I think the chain of deaths and revenge killings must stop sometime.
The time has come for Her Majesty's Government to stand up and admit its culpability. To honestly admit that certain mistakes were made. After running this in front of one or two people I will be making a statement in the House to that effect. That the Commissioner in question was removed from office as soon as possible of that there is no doubt. Unfortunately, by Christmas 1934, the main damage had already been done. The unfortunate business in question had already been personally assisted and continued to be for a further 13 years. Huge sums of UK taxpayers' money were wasted at the worst possible time of the Second World War when this country and Newfoundland could least afford it. For God's sake, it was a most foolish mistake for the Commissioner to have shown so clearly how he could be influenced by friendships in the conduct of his official duties by allowing a whole town to be named after him. I think a statement in the House would be the proper way of managing this still potentially embarrassing situation. I can think of no better way of finding out how warm this issue still remains after all that time."
"What about the deaths of the young man and his daughter?" said Merrick.
"I believe the three people directly responsible for the deaths have all since died in St John's Penitentiary in Newfoundland. I have been advised by Queen's Counsel that should the matter ever go to trial by jury then the most likely outcome would be that Her Majesty's

53. Government may even now be guilty as charged as accomplice to the fact."

2004-07-29T12:03:00.000-07:00
"Even allowing for the known deaths of the two main collaborators, Sir James Wrigglesworth, the ex Commissioner of Natural Resources and Mr John Owen Jeffrey, the Labrador Company's owner?"
"Yes"
Sir Richard Merrick took a deep breath, O'Brien kept his head down and a pregnant silence filled the room.
"I think this will be a damage limitation exercise in the first instance and most probably in the second instance as well," said the Prime Minister. In the meantime I want us to put all of our resources behind Ap Meurig in the Mediterranean to bring the present incumbents to trial and the whole affair to closure as soon as possible.
By this time, O'Brien was beside himself with worry. He looked up at Merrick, his nerve failed, his sense of duty took over and he just blurted out, "Sir, they've taken my Lisa and Amy Lee too."
"O'Brien, get a grip on yourself man, what are you blathering about?"
"Sir! They ordered me to find out everything I could about the papers you have been discussing. They are going to torture them both if they get the slightest idea of what I've just told you."
The Prime Minister said, "Well done O'Brien, you've done exactly the right thing by telling us. Now then, go home, forget everything you've just heard and report back in tomorrow afternoon. By that time we will have decided exactly what we are going to tell these people." He leant
forward at his desk and pressed a key on his phone, "Madeleine, please call Sir Peter for me would you? Tell him to come over straight away."
"Certainly Sir."

54. "Thank you Merrick that will be all.

2004-07-29T12:02:00.000-07:00
I shall get back to you some time tomorrow."
"Thank you Prime Minister," said Merrick as he left the oak panelled office at Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs feeling a lot happier than when he first came in.
Mr. Gary Probert Jeffrey walked down to his local supermarket for his annual 'flu jab which only cost £12.00 and was well worth it he thought. He'd started taking them four years ago and hadn't even had a cold since. After all he was a senior citizen now.
The coastal footpath that he was following down the cliff linked the medieval Castle Cerreg where he lived, with his Centre further downhill and the village in the valley beyond. A multi-millionaire Welsh semi - recluse living in the village of Abergele on the southern edge of the Snowdonia National Park in North Wales. A South Walian by birth, Jeffrey entered the small, picturesque, stone - built grocery shop in the village.
"Good morning Mr. Jeffrey and how are we on this fine Tuesday morning?" said Mrs. Richards.
"Just the odd ache and pain of a 62 year-old. Thank you for asking. I won't need anything more a couple of loaves of bread, some butter and a joint of your best lamb from you today because the Castle's gardens are weighted down with so many vegetables."
"Would you mind giving this to Vicar Thomas for me when he comes in?" Jeffrey passed over the counter a long wickerwork basket with a curved handle full of fresh King Edward potatoes, Enorma runner beans, fat carrots and pods of peas.
"I'm sure he'll be delighted. I certainly will. Good day."
Another lady entered the shop. "Good morning Mrs. Rees is your husband feeling better now after his accident?"

55. "Yes thank you Mr. Jeffrey.

2004-07-29T12:01:00.000-07:00
I'm pleased to say it's only a sprained ankle instead of a break as we originally thought. After he twisted over
on it when coming out of the house.”
Will you be coming to our meeting tonight at the castle?"
"I very much hope so long as Owen is feeling up to it. What's the talk about tonight?"
"Moksha, Karmavad and Dharma."
"That sounds very interesting," said Mrs. Rees politely, but with not the foggiest idea of what he was talking about.
Jeffrey was a newborn Hindu.
He paid all his employees at the Outdoor Pursuits centre and at the castle a generous wage and great staff benefits. In reality he was still learning elementary responsibility for all his actions and he was a well - liked, most generous benefactor of the Abergele community. In point of fact, he had veiled himself with a mask of religion to hide the truth that he was still a ruthless gangster who would stop at nothing to get what he really wanted. Living out his own personal summit of lies and hypocrisy he had committed himself and others to organising his Abergele life on the basis of spiritual values. To all appearances he wore non–violence and peace on his sleeve. Through his generosity towards his neighbours he gave the impression that material values hadn't fixed and possessed him. He gave the impression to anyone who met him that he had committed himself to a natural real way of life on the basis of service, love, sacrifice, humility, devotion and tolerance to help perfect the individual man.
He had even almost convinced himself that he had found a path towards his own salvation!
He picked up the phone on his huge, pine, antique desk in his office at the castle, dialled a number and asked for Rafter.

56. "Get me those papers Rafter.

2004-07-29T12:00:00.000-07:00
They're my heirloom, they belong in the Jeffrey family and nowhere else. I can remember my father talking about their existence before they were closed to the public. Before he could manage to get his sticky hands on them. I must know why they've been kept secret all these years. I know Wrigglesworth suspects the hand of Ap Meurig in everything. Maybe you should get hold of Ap Meurig and find out what he knows?"
"Yes Sir, I'll do that; he's meeting with Frantori in three days time."
"Very good. I don't want to be bothered with the details. Just do what ever needs to be done. Phone me as soon as you've got them."
"Certainly Sir; consider it done."
Richard picked up Sergio from the airport that same evening. They stopped off at the small Cafe Royalle bar just down the road, finished off a crate of small beers between them and filled each other in on the past two years.
Jeffrey could have chosen to live anywhere in the world. Instead he ran the small centre, used self - employed, well - qualified instructors and provided good meals and comfortable beds for the night. It was a thriving business. He had long since convinced himself that he had left their hideous life of crime on the Mediterranean behind. But in reality the power of evil had prevented him from releasing his grip and completely letting go.
The death of Anton Moretti his most trusted, right-hand man had hit him hard. Fortunately he had been able to arrange for another one of the hierarchy, an Oscar Rafter to take over Moretti's top organisational role in the WJ Syndicate soon afterwards. He was fully briefed about the latest threat posed to his supremacy by Frantori and although he had heard of the name Ap Meurig, he knew none of the precise details about his involvement.

57. Communication between the different section leaders of the WJ organisation

2004-07-29T11:57:00.000-07:00
had been very poor for the past year as each side frequently and greedily concentrated their efforts on reaping maximum advantage at the expense of the other. Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey had more or less gone their separate ways and their organisation had suffered accordingly.
Sergio and Richard had enjoyed seeing each other again on Sunday. They complemented each other so well that together they made a truly formidable team.
"Alright, what do you want me to do this time?" said Sergio over the last few beers. Eventually they had got down to business.
"Book into the outdoor pursuits centre at a little place called Abergele in North Wales. Take your own climbing gear with you. Take part in all activities except any that take you more than a couple of kilometres away from the centre itself."
"Is that it? Then what?"
"I'll tell you when you’re there. Here, take this satellite phone with you. It's fully charged."
"Is £10,000 now and £10,000 on completion OK?"
"Sounds fine to me. I'll fly out to Cardiff tomorrow morning."
They shook hands and both returned to the airport. Richard bought his Monday morning ticket for Palma for his meeting with Frantori.
The satellite phone woke Sergio up at 0600 hours Wednesday 24th November in Abergele Outdoor Pursuits Centre. He sensed the God Disturbance thing that existed between himself and Richard even before he answered. A sense of mental derangement bordering on psychopathic behaviour. He'd felt it before because it was something they shared together. Knowing that something had to be done without bothering about the consequences.

58. "I want you to get rid of him.

2004-07-29T11:56:00.000-07:00
I don't care how you do it. He must be killed to stop him killing anybody else," said Richard.
Sergio didn't bother questioning Richard's judgment because he knew there must be no other option open to him.
Jeffrey was getting more and more worried because he hadn't heard from Rafter or any of his men. He sensed that something was seriously wrong but he couldn't put his finger on it. When there was a knock on his study door and Sergio came in he felt quite pleased at the distraction.
"You're one of the new people on the winter climbing instructor's course aren't you?" he said.
"Yes Sir I am. You’re wanted down at the Centre Sir, straight away if you wouldn't mind?"
As Sergio turned to leave Jeffrey said, "Wait a minute I'll walk down with you." It was exactly what Sergio wanted do hear.
After about three minutes of walking together, at a point where a wooden bridge crossed over a 100 metre deep, nearly vertical, narrow gorge Sergio turned on Jeffrey without any warning whatsoever.
He picked him up quite easily because he was a frail old man.
He then dropped him over the edge of the cliff onto the rocks below. Only pausing to look over and check to see if there was any movement before carrying on down to the Centre to tell them about the dreadful accident that had just occurred.
Sergio was questioned by a local police investigating officer before being told he was free to go. A verdict of death by misadventure was entered on the death certificate largely because Sergio had explained to them they were climbing the cliff at the time.

59. Meanwhile back in London

2004-07-29T11:54:00.000-07:00
an MI5 net was being closed around certain captors. Lisa O'Brien had been trying everything she knew to melt the heart of their jailer who brought them food and drink each day in the basement room of the boarded - up house in Greenwich, East London where they had been kept ever since they were kidnapped by Wrigglesworth's men three weeks ago.
Amy Lee had progressively weakened as the three-year-old girl was less able to deal with their darkness and isolation.
Lisa could see some compassion and remorse in the jailer's eyes. On more and more occasions he had stopped to talk with them, showing increasing concern for their well-being. He was a father himself of three mixed-race children each living with a different mother and he picked up whatever jobs he could to contribute towards their upbringing.
The team of three Secret Service officers had been living and working on the South Bank of the Thames and in Canary Wharf. They had carefully disseminated mis-information about the original correspondence discovered by Ap Meurig. They had greatly exaggerated the contents of the papers. During drinking sessions in the local pubs telling random drinking partners that the evidence they contained was sufficient on its own to lock Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey behind bars for the rest of their lives and to close down the whole of their worldwide WJ operation. They had also collected sufficient information that led them to believe they had found where Lisa and Amy Lee O'Brien were been held against their will.
The boarded-up house had been under high-level surveillance since Saturday for two days which had been sufficient time judged by the comings and goings of different men carrying food and drink needed to keep the O'Brien's alive for the team to become convinced they had

60. found them. They strongly suspected that in the room to the left of the front door were two of the captors.

2004-07-29T11:53:00.000-07:00
They had been unable to pinpoint the exact location of Lisa and Amy Lee although they had guessed they were kept under lock and key in either the attic or the basement.
Including the armed police it was a total force of 12 personnel who surrounded 24 Kitchener Terrace, Spavin Walk, Greenwich at 0400 hours early on Monday morning. The door was broken off its hinges with one almighty blow of the pneumatic hammer. Smoke and stun grenades were lobbed into it all the downstairs rooms whilst three hooded, gas - masked officers raced downstairs and three upstairs. Part-time road labourer, Kenneth Mendel was more or less fast asleep on his chair outside the locked room when the next thing he knew both his arms were seized and pinned behind him. Black plastic plant ties were skilfully used to bind together his wrists.
The resistance had been non-existent because the captors of Lisa and Amy Lee had been taken completely off guard by the speed and ferocity of the attack. They didn't know what had hit them. They were deafened and blinded by all the noise and smoke and when they were bundled on to the floor or hauled off the sofas or beds they just meekly gave up.
Lisa and Amy Lee were soon reunited with their father who returned to work on Monday afternoon a relieved and happy man.
After the Prime Minister's discussion with Sir Peter Paulin, a train of events had been triggered that stacked the odds in Richard's favour of a successful outcome to his mission. But as yet, he had not even been made aware of the full scale and might of the MI5 and MI6 organizations that were now supporting him. He was no longer living and working individually.

2004-07-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

pilgrims coming through the door in the wall, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:50:00.000-07:00

two pilgrims, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:49:00.000-07:00

The Door in the Wall, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:48:00.000-07:00

The Wall, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:47:00.000-07:00

The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:46:00.000-07:00

The Chapel of Apparitions, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

Inside the Chapel of Apparitions, The Sanctuary, Fatima;

2004-07-29T11:39:00.000-07:00

A monument to Evil, The Sanctuary, Fatima

61. Roseanne first visited The Sanctuary at Fatima

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on Tuesday after Richard left and then every day whilst he was away. She prayed for Shanolla and for Richard to return safely. She prayed for his hurts to heal, for his doubts to dissolve, for his confusions to clear and for his mind to find the same sort of peace that her quiet, undisturbed love for God had brought her. Her love for God was all embracing. It sustained and nourished her being. She loved the work on their farm because it expressed for her the path of righteousness which she struggled to follow. She knew very little about Richard's work but in her mind she felt that he was a kind man who did good work for others. She doubted somewhat his sense of responsibility and virtue but she had no doubts that he was a good man to have on your side. He was a man you could rely upon and turn to in times of trouble. Somebody whose little deeds each day-whether it was giving his time, his wealth, his experience or a kind word, a helping hand or supporting shoulder marked him out as somebody different. She prayed hard that he would maintain what she liked most of all about her future son-in-law, that special fearlessness that came from his firm good aim in life, his energy as well as from his strength and courage. She had long admired his ability to spend himself in his service to others but she worried about his ability to protect himself. She made sure that any anxiety she felt was well hidden from her daughter who was busying herself looking after her.
Shanolla met Shenora at Fatima station on Tuesday afternoon. They usually liked to meet whenever their men were working together. They were both in their middle twenties and loved the life of adventure they had found. They enjoyed each other's company, had a great deal in common and laughed a great deal when setting the world to rights from their armchairs. Although they only had a limited amount of

62. information about their men's activities

2004-07-29T11:15:00.000-07:00
that never seemed to stop them from speculating, exaggerating and letting their imaginations run riot about what was going on and what the future would hold.
"What's it like in London these days? I've never been. I've heard it so different. I’d just love to go one day," said Shanolla.
"It's great; that's easy to fix up, when do you want to come?"
"When I’m sure my Mother is her old self again. I don't really feel like going anywhere and leaving her right now."
"O.K. we can sort that out later."
"So what's it like?"
"Well where I live in West London it's pretty smart. Ealing Broadway shops are good and there's always Ealing Common nearby."
"What's Ealing Common?"
"An open patch of Common land, with grass, trees and seats were people can just walk the dog, picnic, sit or just mess around having a laugh.
There are also some really good restaurants like the Mexican
Chandos Deli, the Cantonese House of Wong or Golden Mandarin, the French Rendezvous, the Italian Mamma Mia or The Sloane Supper Rooms. There's so many you're spoilt for choice.
For a snack you'd like the Hunger Hutch, Renato's Numero Uno or The Hullabaloo.”
“Ealing Underground Station–isn’t that one of those places where nobody waits until the doors of their train have opened until they try to get on and once they’re in they sit and stand like sardines until they get off?” giggled Shanolla.

63. “Then there are so many great English pubs like 'The Blind Dog,

2004-07-29T11:00:00.000-07:00
The White Lion, The Bar Me, The Swan or The Bowl, replied her friend trying to ignore and not to laugh at the bad joke.
“You'd like the clubs as well. For example,36, Ecstasy or The Academy. They're all great fun.”
"So it’s not really common at all is it? Sounds like the sort of place where I might sunbathe topless on top of some hardware store whilst dreaming of The Tropics.” Giggling to herself; Go on, go on, what else is there to do?"
"Veryfunny. The Music Scene is absolutely fantastic from The Hammersmith to Camden Town. It's got to be the best in the world and the theatre from Sadler's Wells to The Globe it never stops. Then of course there's the River Thames, Westminster Abbey and St Paul's Cathedral. It's a never-ending sort of city."
“Come in Richard,” said the Prime Minister. “I’ve spoken with the Heads of MI5 and MI6 and we have agreed on our course of action with this Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey fly in the ointment affair.“
"I think that maybe you are under - estimating the damage this may still cause us," said Merrick.
"Not at all, not at all. We've already made sure that Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey will do just about anything to get their hands on these papers. We've exaggerated the importance of the evidence they contain in the firm belief they will expose themselves for the first time with regard to their drugs trafficking trade and then we'll move in and arrest them."
"What makes you so sure they won't hide yet again behind their organisations?"
"Our huge majority in Government ensures that an Act has been passed by both the Commons and The House of Lords that now makes it legal to arrest an individual and his corporate business.

64. Wrigglesworth and Jeffrey will at long last have run out of places to hide from the law."

2004-07-29T10:58:00.000-07:00
"I admire your timing Prime Minister!"
"The new law will bring a large dose of common sense not only to our own twin evils of red tape and bureaucracy but also make it a great deal easier to put such people behind bars where they belong. I agree, it is most fortuitous that with a new Spring General Election in three months time it should keep our voters happy."
Richard had known that he was being followed but he was unperturbed. After landing at Nice International Airport he took a taxi to his pre-arranged meeting place with Chief Inspector Samuel Broderick at an Internet cafe near the Palais du Justice. He was confident that Oscar Rafter had no idea that he was been led on a wild goose chase to suit Ap Meurig and Broderick's own purpose. Broderick had already been fully briefed about the high level of assistance that was now at their disposal and he was excited by the prospect of maybe apprehending two villains he had been chasing for his whole working life without success. Rafter, without being aware of the fact was being allowed to use his sophisticated listening equipment to listen in on their conversation.
After exchanging pleasantries, they got down to business for Rafter's benefit in full knowledge that the square had a large numbers of secret servicemen and women in its vicinity should anything unexpected occurs.
"When has the meeting with Frantori been arranged?" asked Broderick.
"Tonight, 0200 hours, 23rd November 2002 should be a momentous time for us all. We're meeting at an old army pillbox on the cliff path this side of a small place called Guido Vidor 7 kilometres out of Palma.

65. I've arranged to collect the papers from my safe deposit box at the bank later on today."

2004-07-29T10:56:00.000-07:00
Rafter felt very pleased with himself. Everything was working out fine or so he thought; just as he'd planned. He’d been able to find out Ap Meurig's movements from his contact in the airline's ticket office. From then on it had been relatively easy. He would make his move tonight, get rid of Ap Meurig and return with the papers to Abergele tomorrow.
At points along the path shiny metal chains bolted into the cliff face provided handholds for walkers against the 250 metre, precipitous drop and the roar of the waves smashing against the rocks below. Rafter hadn't realised that there was only one way into the pillbox and one way out. His three henchmen armed with semi-automatic weapons were as nervous as he was in the pitch-black darkness. They could barely see one step ahead, or see their hand when they held it out in front of them to guide their way. The roughly hewn path also zig zagged up and down the cliff-face to make matters even worse.
Broderick's men backed up by British Secret Service officers were lying in wait for them. As they rounded the last rocky crag on the path Rafter and his three men were killed by sharpshooters using the latest night-vision optics. They walked straight into a withering, ferocious hail of fire that killed all four of them outright and sent them falling into their watery grave below where they were fished out by the waiting Royal Navy seaman. Their bodies were cremated the next day and buried in unmarked graves somewhere on the island.
Giuseppe Frantori had been looking forward to his meeting with Ap Meurig on 24th November, 2002 at his own tall, block of apartments at the idyllic, rocky harbour of Guido Vidor. Frantori's millions and his friendship with some unscrupulous politicians in high places on the island had meant he had forced through the concrete eye-sore of a

66. building against a vocal but ultimately ineffective local opposition.

2004-07-29T10:54:00.000-07:00
He had completely ruined the ambience of the little safe haven. At a beautiful location where a cleft in the cliffs opened out on to the land. The unsightly, Executive condominiums were unwanted and completely out of place. Not that it bothered Frantori in the slightest.
British Secret Service agents however, had already secretly wired - up the whole place for sound. The whole place was under expert surveillance.
By the time Ap Meurig arrived with the papers locked in a brown, leather briefcase and secured by a chain to his right wrist they had assumed a priceless value of their own in Frantori's mind as well as in the mind of another unexpected visitor.
Richard pressed the button for Room 77 on the voice and video intercom outside the front door. A voice told him to push on the door and come on up. After being searched outside in the corridor he went into the room confident in the knowledge that every word would be recorded. An attractive woman showed him through to the largest room with its huge window overlooking the water. With their backs towards him sat two men who didn't even bother turning round to see him. Richard just stood there; unsure for a moment about what to do next. When in doubt he thought, do nothing. Eventually Giuseppe Frantori hauled himself out of his chair and held out his arms in a gesture of welcome.
"I am happy to see that you have brought the papers with you Mr. Ap Meurig. That will make everybody's job a lot easier."
The man with his back towards them still didn't turn round. Richard was surprised that there was now nobody else in the room apart from the three of them since the woman had left. The two men had surprisingly been told to stay outside.
Richard took his chance there and then.

67. He went up onto his toes, bent his knees slightly

2004-07-29T10:50:00.000-07:00
and with a left uppercut that came from outer space hit the nasal bone under Frantori's fleshy nose with such force that it broke away into his brain killing him instantly. Wrigglesworth turned round with a shocked look of utter disbelief on his face. He had never in his worst nightmare ever imagined what Richard Ap Meurig was capable of doing. He went to pull the clumsy Smith and Weston from his shoulder holster as Richard diving across the room hit him with the full force of a flying tackle. Before he could react, Richard had hooked the chain of his briefcase around his throat and strangled him. Everything had happened so fast that by the time the two men posted outside had unlocked the door on hearing the commotion opened it and come rushing in that Richard was waiting for them. Using his own weight against the first man he grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and falling backwards, kicked out both his feet into his solar plexus to send him somersaulting backwards across the room, hitting his head heavily against the marble floor when he landed, knocked out. In a split second, Richard had flipped back up into an upright position knocking the second guard completely unconscious as the top of his head caught him on the point of his jaw.
The Sleeper felt satisfied.
He collected the late Gary Shepherd’s second instalment. He felt he had earned it.
In the House of Commons in London, at 1000 a.m. on Thursday 25th November 2002 The Right Honourable Daniel Burnell M.P., Prime Minister stood up to address the House. “My Right Honourable Friends will know of the recent International Criminal Justices Bill which was passed by Parliament. I would like to take this opportunity to reaffirm our Government's commitment to its underlying principles that a

68. person is innocent until proven guilty

2004-07-29T09:57:00.000-07:00
and that trial by jury should continue as our normal procedure. I wish to bring to the attention of the House the Government's commitment to improving the public confidence in justice being done. Members will most probably be already aware of the Section within the Act relating to the prosecution of corporate companies as well as their individual employees for criminal offences. In that regard I wish to congratulate the recent brave and sterling work of our intelligence, police and armed services in cooperating with their European and North America counterparts in bringing to justice the Wrigglesworth-Jeffrey and Frantori organizations which my honourable members may have seen on news broadcasts. I also wish to remind the House of our commitment to riding our streets of the menace of drugs and violence whilst protecting the rights of the individual including the mentally ill, who may be a severe danger to themselves and to others. We are now concentrating our efforts upon providing more treatment centres and in making sure that persistent drugs offenders do not re - offend. In that respect in discussion with police commanders throughout the country, there is a general support for increasing police powers to deal with such offenders. I wish to reaffirm Her Majesty's Government's commitment to continuing support for the victims of crime through peaceful and democratic means. I thank the honourable members for their attention and look forward towards building more cross party support for such measures in the future.
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