Beyond the Last Hill

By David K Bryant. and Mary Harris

On the verge of world crisis, Major Dan Barrington of the US Army and Sally Fisher, a newspaper journalist, try to unravel secrets held by the British authorities — codes and confidential information denied to the United States government. They quickly find themselves enmeshed in a net of intrigue, suspicious death, and personal danger. So

• Language: English
• Publisher: Doce Blant Publishing
• Release date: Jan 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997891355

David K Bryant.

David K. Bryant began to write novels after a successful career in journalism and public relations in the United Kingdom. His love of real events permeates the rich stories he weaves in his collection of historical fiction novels. David is happily married to his wife of more than 40 years. He has two children and three grandchildren. David continues to write while retired in the lovely county of Somerset in England.

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David K. Bryant

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Copyright ©2016 by David K. Bryant

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Published by

Doce Blant Publishing, Dana Point, CA 92629

www.doceblantpublishing.com

Cover by Fiona Jayde Media

ISBN-978-0-9978913-5-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016958688

Printed in the United States of America

www.doceblantpublishing.com

This is a fictional work. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, including events and locations, is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to my wife, Stephanie,

with thanks for all the support she’s given me.

DICTIONARY

Aggro = aggravation

Backhander = bribe

Beak = magistrate

Bloke = man or guy

Blotto = drunk

Blow the gaff = reveal the truth

Bog = toilet

Bluebottles = police officers

Bobbie = police officer (derived from Sir Robert Peel who formed the Metropolitan Police, London)

Boys in blue = police officers

British Leyland = vehicle manufacturer in the 1960s

Bung = bribe

Chequers = country home of the UK Prime Minister

CID = Criminal Investigation Department (detectives)

Constabulary = police force

Copper = police officer

Cop shop = police station

DOA = dead on arrival

Eton = leading private school in the UK

Fag = cigarette

Fleet Street = location of the offices of most national newspapers in Britain at the time of this novel, 1968

Freemasons = a secret society with members in high places

Fuzz = police

GCHQ = Government Communications Head Quarters

Gen = information

Greenham Common = American cruise missile base in England

Guv = short for governor. Typically used by London taxi drivers to their customers.

Hands greased = bribed

HM = Her Majesty or Majesty’s (the Queen)

Hooray Henrys = loud rich people

Kickback = bribe

Loo = toilet

Met (The) = Metropolitan Police based at Scotland Yard, often called in to serious cases across Britain in the 1960s

Nick = police station (noun); arrest (verb); steal (verb)

Obbo = observation

Old Bill = police

Old Holborn = a brand of self-rolled tobacco

Oxbridge = a combination of Oxford and Cambridge, Britain’s premier universities

Panda car = a small black and white police car used on town work in the 1960s

Peelers = police officers (derived from Sir Robert Peel who formed the Metropolitan Police, London)

Plod = derogatory term for policeman

Pools (The) = betting syndicate on soccer results offering large payouts

Porky pies = Cockney rhyming slang for lies

RAF = Royal Air Force

RSPCA = Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

Russkie = Russian

Scarpering = running away

Shandy = beer mixed with lemonade

Stringers = freelance journalists

Sussing = figuring out

Sweet fanny adams = nothing at all

Toodle pip = farewell

Top himself = commit suicide

Tory/Tories = another word for the Conservative Party or its members

Woodentop = derogatory term used by detectives for uniformed policeman who wear helmets

Most of the characters in this book are fictitious. The Prime Minister, however, is based on the man who held that office at the time.

The speech in Chapter Eleven was an actual event.

ENGLAND, 1968

PART ONE

QUESTIONS

CHAPTER ONE

THE BODY

The wooden pole with a large iron hook was kept at Maidenhead police station for a specific purpose. Known frivolously as the fishing rod, it could be used either from a boat or the shore to recover suspicious objects from the River Thames, which usually meant the dead body of someone who had come to grief in the water.

The 30-foot-pole’s shaft folded into three hinged sections, but it was unwieldy when fully extended. The jest among the police officers was that if it was necessary to open the third part of the fishing rod, then it was easier to push than pull. Shove the flotsam to the opposite bank and let the Buckinghamshire Constabulary deal with it.

Shortly after the start of Early Turn on a spring morning in 1968, the duty sergeant detailed Police Constable Stewart Casey to go angling. That called for the glum look that Casey now adopted and for the visual tough luck attitude that the sergeant returned to him. Resigned to the grisly task, for about the tenth time in his thirty years of service, Casey went to the mess room to collect the pole from its storage place, propped against the wall at the end of the row of lockers.

Casey guided the Morris van out into the town’s Sunday morning emptiness and past the lifeless High Street shops. He turned off the A4 highway to drive along the river frontage and glanced at the 300-foot-wide streak of dark grey water with silver ripples, dreading what it held.

Just past Boulter’s Lock, Casey saw his colleague PC Keith Patterson by the riverbank awaiting his arrival. Patterson had reported the grim discovery over his personal radio and been designated by the sergeant to keep an eye on it until the pole was fetched. Instead, Patterson was focusing on some indeterminate point across the river, not wishing to look at it any more than strictly necessary. He had always known he would have to deal with this sort of situation in the police force but, four months out of training, this was the first time such an occasion had actually arisen.

Over there in the reeds, see it? asked Patterson. He wanted to sound like a seasoned copper, like Casey, who had seen it all before. But Patterson made a pig’s ear of that. He realised the anticipation of an unpleasant experience had made his voice shrill. He lowered his pitch for the next sentence and spouted one of those droll phrases the older men used: It’s got me a bit of overtime, I’m on nights.

It was no compensation for PC Casey that his fellow officer would make money out of this. Casey planted his feet as firmly as he could on the slippery embankment, then he reached out with the pole to retrieve the latest victim of the River Thames. He could see that it was a man’s body, in a grey suit, with the jacket unbuttoned, and white shirt with blue tie askance.

It took three attempts before the iron hook did its job and linked round the dead man’s belt. Casey pulled at his prey to shake it loose from its lodging place. He felt the rough edge of a half-buried stone graze his ankle and stopped himself putting his weight down on that foot lest he trip and end up in the river himself. The corpse came free from the rushes with a little gurgling noise, and a wave of bubbling water surged from the clothing. Casey breathed a sigh of relief that the body looked intact and kept its integrity throughout its undignified travel on the end of the pole. Some previous cadavers had disintegrated during this process. That was messy. This one’s rigidity meant it could not have been in the water for long.

Young Patterson held his breath as though that would reduce the repulsiveness of what he had to do. He took hold of a lifeless arm, Casey took the other, and they pulled the tragic man up the bank, water escaping from every exit it could find in suit and shirt.

Casey walked around the remains that had once been a human being with a family history, hobbies, and the worries of life, but was now only a blue face locked in a terrified expression, and a torso and limbs wrapped in drenched grey and white cloth.

Patterson held back the vomit that threatened to lurch from his mouth. His eyes closed with the effort. When he regained his vision, he noticed that the dead man’s shoes were missing. The socks were there but not the shoes. Why would that be? wondered Patterson. Would the current have pulled off the shoes? But with his mouth struggling to contain the sick, Patterson did not want to try to ask Casey if river fatalities usually lost their shoes.

Anyway, Casey had started voicing his own observations: No outward signs of foul play. Just a few scratches and bruises from bumping around in the drink. So there’s no need to call out the CID. We can report it to them when we get back to the nick. We’ll call for an ambulance, get him taken to Wexpak and certified DOA, then the forensics and autopsy can be done. But first we have to try to find out who he was.

Patterson revealed his unfinished initiation: Wexpak?

Wexham Park Hospital, elaborated Casey with a grin.

Casey noticed the rookie cop quaking at the thought of what had to come next. Only one cure for squeamishness, Casey thought to himself, and that’s experience.

Well I did the dragnet act, you can do the search, said Casey.

There could be no quibble with that so, for the first time in his career, Patterson bent down on one knee, pulled his tunic’s right sleeve back as far as it would go, spread his fingers as though it would save them from contamination and reached out to examine a dead body. He paused for several seconds before finding the mettle to reach into the jacket’s inside pocket. In his haste to get this over with, he snatched out the wallet.

Patterson pinched his nostrils shut while holding the wallet at arm’s length until most of the water drained from it, then he prized it open to look for identification.

Casey smiled approvingly.

The driving licence was there but its soaking had bonded it with other documents and turned it into an unreadable mash. Look in the side section of the wallet, advised Casey. It’s zipped up so it will have been better protected.

Patterson pulled back the unwilling fastener and grappled through contents that were indeed more pliable. He found a plastic holder that opened to show a passport-size photograph. The face in the picture was certainly the same face that was now blue and dead on the riverbank. The caption revealed who the deceased was. Patterson failed to realise the significance of what he had found and, with an ingenuous, This ID’s him, handed the documentation to Casey.

Now it was the older policeman’s turn to quake. He looked twice at the inscription before he accepted what it was telling him. This incident was no longer the straightforward recovery of a corpse from the river. There would be more than a superficial inquest and a routine conclusion such as misadventure or suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed. This death would have a welter of ramifications and all sorts of shadowy individuals and agencies would pry into it. A Berkshire constable would need to do everything by the book and stand well clear when the shit hit the fan.

Christ! exclaimed Casey at an unusually high note.

What? asked a bemused Patterson.

The identity card wavered in Casey’s hand. This bloke carried a military intelligence pass. He must have been a fucking spy or something.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SPEECH

Right, that’s the third draft of my speech, said Professor Peter Williams. What do you think about it now?

Maxine yawned and offered no comment.

I know, sighed Williams. You think it sags in the middle — at least, that’s usually the point at which you start snoring. Okay, I’m scratching out that whole section about the strange goings-on in America. So, will you please listen again? And don’t complain, I’ve got to read it out loud to make sure I get the emphases right.

Maxine shifted position slightly and half closed her eyes.

The professor resigned himself to rehearsing without an audience:

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. It is an honour to be here before the Oxbridge Society of Great Britain. I never would have expected the humble name of Peter Williams to join the roll of those much more eminent speakers who have stood at this lectern over the years. Perhaps my main distinction in that list will be having the most memorable moniker. (Pause for polite laughter.)

I have called my lecture ‘The History to Come’. It is a deliberately obscure title. I did not want to give away too much beforehand and have the organisers cancel the engagement. I think I’m going to be a bit controversial. (Smile and pause for more polite, and hopefully curious, laughter.)

"Before predicting ‘The History to Come’, I would like to look briefly at the history that’s gone. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to take you in detail through the millions of years that Man has inhabited Earth. I know I’ve been allocated twenty minutes and I will not overstay that time.

"I want to mention only the general trend of human development. It has been this: Over many centuries, this planet was divided into the Known World and the Unknown World. Whenever the Known World discovered parts of the Unknown World, the existing occupants would be exterminated, enslaved, or pushed aside. Think of the Aztecs and the Incas, the Native Australians and Americans.

It seems that the natural inclination of Civilised Man has been to take from Uncivilised Man; to take land, food, and minerals and to do so initially without conscience. Many years later, only when the damage has been done, the minority voice of moral opinion achieves its attempts to be heard. Then some limited concessions are made to what remains of the indigenous peoples but they are still disenfranchised and pushed to the bottom of the social ladder.

(Say the next bit slowly.)

Perhaps some token concessions will be made to Mankind as a whole when the dust settles after ‘The History to Come’. If so, slavery is probably the best for which we can hope — if we survive at all.

(That will be confusing and disturbing to the listeners. Some will fidget in their seats, others may heckle. Respond calmly. Appeal to them to hear you out.)

"Because, ladies and gentlemen, ‘The History to Come’ will be the same story of intrepid voyagers discovering new territory and trampling underfoot those who already live there.

Only this time it will not be just remote islands, countries, or continents that are subdued. It will be the whole of the globe upon which we live.

(That will have done it. Now expect the audience to get fractious. Some may walk out.)

"You may think I am referring to the threat of World War Three and, of course, those behind the Iron Curtain do seem ambitious for world domination. The spectre of nuclear destruction overshadows our lives. But it is not the black cloud with which my speech is concerned.

I am talking about the conquest of Earth by beings from elsewhere in the galaxy.

(The reaction in the hall will probably make it necessary to ad lib the next section. I may have to stop to answer questions or respond to harangues. So from here on, the draft is only a guide.)

"I believe that such an invasion is a far more realistic danger than an outbreak of nuclear war between our own nations. At least we have achieved some level of hegemony in the tensions between East and West. The USA and the USSR are talking to each other. We can hope that they will agree some limits on the growth of thermonuclear weapons, perhaps even a reduction, possibly a binding accord.

"But even if that desirable outcome was achieved, even if we went so far as to destroy the ballistic arsenals, the world would not be safe.

"For there is no hope of negotiation between Earth and any other planet that has designs on turning us into its colony.

"Logic alone must make it irrefutable that we are not alone in the black vastness of space.

"There will be more advanced races than our own who will be…

"…capable of discovering our presence and assessing the value of making the huge investment necessary to plan and equip an expedition…

"…capable of making the galactic voyage by means we do not comprehend, but which are placed before our imaginations every time we tune in to Star Trek.

"Please don’t doubt for a moment that they would have the motivation.

"They may want the very air that we breathe if their own atmosphere is collapsing. Or the water we have in abundance. Perhaps they would want living space if their world suffers from an even greater population explosion, or from worse pollution, than our own. They may be attracted by natural resources that we have and they don’t.

"Such extra-terrestrial immigrants will not settle down as our friendly neighbours. They will have no reason to be civil or sympathetic to a primitive human race.

"They will sweep us aside.

"What we did when we discovered new lands and subjugated the local tribes will be done unto us. We will be bulldozed like a defunct building and with just as much compassion as we ourselves would feel for the rats who occupied it.

"Why do I raise this gruesome subject? Is it unwarranted scaremongering?

"No, it is a serious warning; the basis of an overture that I wish to make to the leaders of this world and especially to the nuclear powers: the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

My message is: Forget your differences. Turn your development of defence systems toward a common enemy, one that makes our Cold War look like playground jostling.

(Ominous expression needed now.)

It’s at this point, ladies and gentlemen, that I’m going to drop my real bombshell. I have to tell you that aliens have already arrived here.

(There will be some major unrest, especially on the top table. They did not want this. The Vice Chancellor might jump to his feet and try to cut you short with some inanity such as: Well, thank you, Professor Williams, you’ve made us all think deeply about a matter that might not have seemed so pertinent. Now I don’t think we have time for questions…)

(You must prevail. Speak over him if necessary.)

"Did I hear someone say I was being preposterous? Then consider this:

"Every day, someone on Earth sees evidence of otherworldly presence. On some days, many see it.

"Last year, the official recorded statistics for what are euphemistically called unidentified flying objects reached exactly one per day in this country alone. The annual total has quadrupled in the last seven years.

"There were many thousands of similar happenings in North America and across Europe. Reports came from India, Australia, and throughout those parts of the world that share information with us. Then there were the, no doubt significant, quantities in the countries behind the Iron Curtain and in China, from whom we have heard nothing because of their media censorship.

"The descriptions are surprisingly similar: of disc or cigar shaped, brightly-lit objects which hover, or travel at prodigious speeds. That consistency does not come out of collusion. The accounts come from different locations and from citizens across the spectrum of age and background.

"And don’t write off those witnesses as UFO groupies. Much of the testimony comes from entirely respectable sources, such as RAF pilots and professional astronomers.

"Then there are the physical signs — the scorched ground left after UFOs have been seen to land or take off, the chemical changes in the surroundings and the hot spots of radiation.

"I expect that today, perhaps at this very moment, more people will see or hear something that cannot be given a name; a phenomenon in the sky, on land or above the sea. It will disturb and frighten them, give them nightmares, perhaps leave them with a memory that haunts them every day for the rest of their lives.

"Obviously, many of the sightings, probably the majority, are indeed mistaken. The entities are, in fact, aircraft, lightning, comets, meteors, stars, reflected light, ventricular clouds. And sometimes, yes, they are just made up.

"But among them are those events that truly defy explanation. And where that is the case, a huge official wall of secrecy is erected, while smoke and mirrors about harmless causes is fed to the media.

"When asked about the scale of UFO appearances, what do governments have to say? And what is the view of the intelligentsia: the scientists, the academics, the military? Well, at least they are all agreed on something for once. Unfortunately, they are agreed in the wrong way. To a man, they cry ‘rubbish’. They denounce the observers as naïve, mixed-up, malicious, attention-seeking, or just plain nuts.

"As so much ridicule and apathy generally greets the most convincing data, I think it is not a great leap of faith to believe that many people see UFOs but keep quiet about it, for fear of being labelled as freaks and exposing themselves to indefinite opprobrium and abuse.

"And why do the authorities immediately refute every instance of a UFO? Why do they not at least concede that inter-stellar transit is a real possibility and that we, as a planet rich in so many ways, are an obvious destination for space travellers?

"The truth is that there is, indeed, a mass hysteria about UFOs. It is not, however, among those who see them. No, the hysteria is among the powers responsible for our security. Their automatic denial is based on the fact that they are helpless to do anything about it. They are afraid. They are just as scared as the boy on a bicycle who sees a strange craft above him.

"For they know that arising from the plethora of UFO incidents are some really worrying facts.

"For example:

"Records of UFOs go back hundreds of years, to when there were no aircraft to be mistaken for spaceships, no weather balloons, no films frightening people with triffids, no smog, no stimulus at all for the notion of extra-terrestrial life. Indeed, the general belief was that the Earth was the centre of the universe and the only other places were Heaven and Hell.

"Yet people reported seeing UFOs, seeing them land, and seeing their strange occupants.

"So if there is truth to the theory that these are alien beings, why have they been passively keeping an eye on us, yet making no direct contact, hostile or otherwise?

"Are these visitors conducting some long-term scientific study? Are they waiting for something? Perhaps for us to destroy ourselves.

"That, ladies and gentlemen, is the biggest conundrum. If aliens have discovered and explored Earth, why have they been content to fly around watching us?

"Please sit firmly in your seats and take a deep breath.

"I believe that, up until now, they have been carrying out their reconnaissance. The real invasion will come next.

"I have proof of that literally earth-shattering conclusion. I have presented my findings to the British government and I hope it is not going to dismiss me as another lunatic. I pray that all nations will start taking a more objective view, communicate to us what they know and form some coordinated plan.

I have taken a big risk in stating my views tonight, but maybe a bit more public awareness and pressure will remove the ‘nonsense’ label from the UFO file. It should be categorised as ‘The most dangerous threat to the future of mankind’.

(If they haven’t walked out or started throwing things at me:) Thank you for listening.

Maxine snuggled further down into her basket.

God, I wish I had a more responsive testbed than a basset hound, complained Professor Williams.

Maxine rolled her eyes.

Good thing I’ve still got several weeks to get this right, muttered Williams.

CHAPTER THREE

THE MESSAGES

Sir, I’ve received the analysis. The messages have been translated. We now know what the subjects have been saying.

The Prime Minister’s face crinkled around the eyes and mouth at that news. Without speaking, he walked to the mahogany sideboard and lifted the whisky decanter off its silver tray. His movements were methodical; a self-disciplinary device to ensure he thought before he spoke and that his words were measured. He turned the crystal glasses upwards and filled them slowly while absorbing what he had just heard. He held out one of the drinks toward his visitor, but without offering a mixer or ice. Then at last the PM responded:

This room is probably bugged, Stanley, not only by your people but by God knows who else. Let’s walk into the garden.

They took their glasses and walked across the woodblocks to the doorway, down the hall and out into the late winter air. For the sake of breaking the silence, the PM reminded Stanley of when they had first met four years earlier. You spoiled my day, Stanley. There I was, high on my election victory and I’d just come from the Queen, who’d asked me to form a government. Then the second meeting I had as prime minister was with you, and the euphoria evaporated. He gave Stanley a slight nudge with his elbow to signify that the last remark was not meant unkindly.

Yes, sir. As your intelligence advisor, it was my task to ensure that you were immediately aware of the security threats to the United Kingdom.

"Well, I’d already guessed that you would tell me the Cold War could