Stan Mason - Stopping World War Three

After leaving the Savoy Hotel I visited an upholstery shop a short distance away. It took less than fifteen minutes to be fitted with a shoulder holster. The gun still felt bulky as it rested against my body but it was now contained and no longer caused an ugly bulge in my jacket. I telephoned my office in the hope of contacting my secretary only to be told that she was still absent. Persistently, I rang her apartment but no one answered the call. Even Schmuel Musaphia had looked blank when I asked him about her. She had vanished off the face of the Earth! But it was essential for me to focus my mind on my wife. It seemed that everyone knew where she was being held. Musaphia had given me her location without difficulty. How could he have found out unless the organisation had taken her. Or was his intelligence system so exclusive that he was able to find out about anyone at any time. I still considered that he had tapped my telephone to find out the information. Well one thing was certain… he had confirmed that Jan was being held at The Golden Peacock.

I drove nearly half a mile past the nightclub. I parked the car and walked back at a steady pace. The nightclub was a triumph of modern architecture. Shaped like a mediaeval castle, with towers and turrets on each side, it comprised a complex of offices, a dance hall, a conference room, a gaming room, a number of ante rooms, a high-grade restaurant and a number of hotel rooms. It was owned by an international conglomerate whose principal activities related to hotel management and gambling. The façade reflected layer upon layer of blocks of stone designed to make the location an authentic piece of history. There was even a dummy frieze around the turrets which was also adorned with stone gargoyles and grotesques. Several people were waiting at the reception desk when I entered. Casually, I sat down on one of the comfortable seats to pick up some literature about the hotel and its accommodation.

‘The castle stands on it own extensive grounds,’ I read. ‘With ninety-five bedrooms, this four-star hotel ensures its service is maintained at the highest level by over one hundred professional staff. The restaurant is considered to be one of the finest in the county boasting French, Italian and English cuisine. The classic menus and silver service are perfectly complimented by its own superb and high individual surroundings. The Forum Room caters for every kind of function and can be quickly adapted for weddings, trade shows and banquets. Guest rooms are appointed to a high standard every one en-suite. Each room has a television colour television, direct dial telephones, central heating and tea and coffee-making facilities. The Health and Leisure spa offers an all-year round centrally heated pool and guests can also enjoy the sauna Jacuzzi and a range of health treatments. There is also a gaming room where guests can play roulette, black jack and enjoy the use of numerous amusement machines.’

There was no doubt that The Golden Peacock was a first-class hotel although I was somewhat concerned that they employed so many staff. Hopefully, most of them were instructed to come on duty in the evening rather than during the daytime. I had to keep a low profile at all times and I rose slowly to make my way to the gaming room. I opened the door cautiously to find it was vacant and almost in darkness as an element of natural light filtered in from a few very high windows. However it was sufficient for my purpose. I went over to the roulette wheel allowing my eyes to scan the room, listening hard for any noises which might assist me in finding Jan. It was silent. The only sounds which did emanate were those of the clatter of cups on trolleys as they travelled down the adjoining hallway to the restaurant. I was particularly comforted by the gun in my holster. The problem was I had adopted a nervous habit of touching it regularly to check that it was still there.

After a while I realised that I had to cease random activities and embark on a proper plan of campaign. Jan was probably a prisoner being held in one of the hotel rooms. If so, the room was likely to be near the roof where any noise would go unnoticed. Alternatively, the other place was the basement. I decided to advance to the top floor and work my way downwards. As I left through the side door, I discovered a cupboard with a number of white coats inside. Donning one of them, I took the stairs to the top floor and began knocking on each door systematically pretending to be a waiter to take an order for a meal. There were ninety-five bedrooms on five floors! It was a dauntless task! I listened carefully at each door before knocking but most of them were unoccupied and no one answered. It took over ten minutes to deal with the rooms on the top floor and I was disappointed at the end of it. If Jan had been in any of them, I’m sure she would have made some sounds to alert me. I stopped at an open window at the end of the hallways and looked outside. A window cleaner’s cradle, secured by ropes attached to the roof, swung idly in the breeze. It was as though fate had prepared the vacant vehicle for my use. I climbed out of the window, leaning out dangerously to catch the rope of the cradle, and swung on to the platform. The search had turned significantly in my favour from my new vantage point. Within a short while I discovered how to manoeuvre the cradle and removed a white handkerchief from my pocket pretending to clean the windows. By this method I could swiftly look into all the room on this side of the hotel by lowering the cradle at each floor and moving it across the façade. I inched my way across the hotel but jubilation soon turned to disappointment. Jan was nowhere to be seen. One didn’t need to be a Sherlock

Holmes to realise that she wasn’t being held prisoner on the top floor. There was no point in searching the rooms on the lower floors. Her captors would never keep her where she might be discovered by the hotel guests. Following that logic, I presumed it was more likely that she was being held in the basement. I made my way back towards the open window swinging the cradle so that I could climb back through it. As I scrambled into the hallway, a chambermaid carrying an armful of bed linen came around the corner and almost screamed with fright as I landed on my feet. I silenced her by placing the index finger of my left hand to my lips.

‘Don’t take any notice of me, young lady,’ I lied blatantly. ‘I’m a kissogram man… coming to sing a romantic rhyme to a woman in room 412. She was going to bump into me in the hallway and I didn’t want to spoil it for her so I dodged up here.’

She looked at me suspiciously and then turned away in disgust muttering expletives about kissogram people. I inhaled deeply as she entered one of the bedrooms to change the bed linen without calling for security. I made my way down the stairs until I reached the ground floor. The while coat not became unnecessary so I discarded it and descended a flight of steps to the basement. I came to a large room filled with furniture and junk. Jan wasn’t being held there but I noticed four doors leading off the room. The first led back to the stairs from which I had just come. The second bore the sign ‘BAR’ which was the most unlikely place for anyone to hold a prisoner. The third led to the gaming room while the fourth related to the kitchen. There had to be somewhere else! I tried each door in turn to check they were authentic. The bar was the main bar in the hotel with a mezzanine cellar where barrels of beer were kept. I recognised the gaming room having been there earlier. The kitchen could not be mistaken for any other room. I sat on a stool in the basement and let thoughts drift through my mind for a while undecided on the next step. There was little point in returning upstairs to search the hotel rooms. In a castle of this kind there could be secret passages and hidden rooms but to find them was well beyond my control. The sound of footsteps echoed a short distance away and I crept into one of the murky corners of the room, hiding behind a large armchair. A man descended the steps and went into the kitchen area closing the door behind him. It was then that I discovered an awkward piece of metal sticking into my back and turned to find I was leaning against a fifth door. It was faced with a sheet of steel that had been painted black to hide its identity. There were no signs or markings but I knew before I opened it that it would lead down to the cellar. I pulled the handle, opening it cautiously and listened carefully but all was silent. The entrance heralded another set of steps leading to another door which sported a chink of light at the bottom. I went down the steps and stood outside the door. Taking my gun from the holster, I inhaled deeply and rushed into the room brandishing the weapon dangerously.