Rogue Wolves

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

LeGrand Clinic, Switzerland – July, 1973

The LeGrand Clinic was ideally nestled amidst the breathtaking mountains and basked in the clean air of the Swiss Alps. It was a private clinic that offered in its literature, 'the best in top musculoskeletal rehabilitation, healthy aging and holistic repair'. It was one of the finest private hospitals on the planet and its clientele were composed of the rich and the privileged who paid for exclusivity and cutting-edge medical treatment.

The fifty room private clinic (complete with state-of-the-art hospital facilities) boasted a Five Star restaurant, well equipped fitness room and a movie theatre and was set amid well-manicured lawns complete with heated swimming pools. In the background, the magnificent snow-crested Alps stood like a guardian to protect the recovering patients. It was a relaxing haven in an otherwise turbulent world and all serviced by an attentive and professional staff.

Jack Grant sat on the open-air terrace, wrapped in a quilted winter ski jacket. LeGrand staff had provided all of these (for a fee) to ensure the safety and comfort of the clinic's clients. A half drunk cup of dark roasted coffee sat on the table before him. His mirrored sunglasses reflected the vista of the nearby mountains and his stillness could have appeared unnerving to the casual observer. He looked like a wealthy businessman taking a moment to reflect upon his recent medical misfortunes, but glad in the knowledge that he had found sanctuary at the LeGrand.

In truth, he was bored. Jesus, this place was numbing his brain!

The past four months had been an exercise in frustration for him. Since his last mission that had ended with the shootout on the beach in Nice, Jack Grant had been mothballed by the SDECE. As far as the French were concerned, he was a busted contract agent – literally and figuratively. His g*n hand was shot to hell, hence the series of operations and subsequent physical therapy here at the LeGrand, and he suspected that the reason that they had kept him 'out of the way', here in the clinic in the Alps, was because they were seeing if he had lost his nerve. They wanted to see if the Gorilla was a man who could still offer them something.

The only good thing was that the French had agreed to pick up the tab and get him fixed up with the best surgeons in Europe. They obviously still rated the Gorilla's worth in that sense. After all, every agent has a f**k-up from time to time. It's normal; it's part of the game. The most important thing is that they can come back from it. After all, a gunman and intelligence agent who can't do the job any more would quickly find himself out of work… or worse.

There was no retirement plan in this game, no later life benefits. You worked and worked and retired under your own steam, or you ended up dead. Not that he was planning on retiring any time soon; he had too many good years left in him, busted g*n hand or not. And he certainly wasn't planning on leaving the business in a wooden box, either.

He drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet. He had had enough of staring at f*****g mountains for one day, so he decided to walk across the gardens and back to his suite. He took his time and ambled. He was in no hurry to return to his luxury room overlooking a stream. In a very real sense, it had become his cell. He felt trapped here and wanted to get back to his own life, his own apartment in Paris… to get back to the work he did best.

He spoke to his daughter twice a week, calling her private boarding school in Hampshire. Since his sister had passed away two years ago, Katy had been even more determined to have her father, her family, around her as much as she could. Grant had stepped up to the mark and between them, they had reached a happy medium. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't the life that he truly wanted for her but, for the moment, it worked.

Katy still thought that her father was an executive for one of the big oil companies, travelling all over the world, and he was happy to let her carry on believing that. They had the odd weekend away at the end of term, sometimes at his apartment in Paris, sometimes over to the USA, occasionally to Spain for a beach break.

He was extremely proud of her and always enquired after how she was doing at school, what she liked, who her friends were. So far, her big things were science, David Bowie and horse-riding, but not necessarily in that order of importance. They had formed a bond over recent years that he never thought would have been possible; the gruff, world-weary dad and the pretty thirteen-year-old. God, he missed her.

He walked past the reception, nodded to the receptionist and glanced over several brochures in the card holder. Apparently, a Card Club was being held that night – jeez! He was seriously thinking about organising an escape club to see if they could make it over the border!

A few more nods to the 'inmates' and then he climbed the immaculately vacuumed staircase to his room. It was that time of the day when guests were out walking in the hills, strolling in the grounds or visiting their medical practitioners in the clinic, so, for Grant, it was a peaceful time when he didn't have to communicate with people for communication's sake.

As he approached the door to his suite, his sharp, trained eyes noticed that something was amiss. He stood in front of the classically furnished white door and inspected its edges. His eyes stopped upon the corner by the hinge. The small piece of tape that he had fixed to the edge of the door was snapped. It was his own private version of an intruder alarm. He would always fix it in place after the housekeeping staff had completed the daily round of laundry, making the bed and cleaning. So, by 8.30 a.m., the 'intruder alarm' was always in place. And so far, in all of his time here, it had never been broken. Until today.

His hand instinctively reached for the pistol that wasn't there, either on his hip or in the shoulder holster underneath his arm. He scolded himself and clenched his fist in anger. He knew that something wasn't right. Was it an old operation that had come back to haunt him? Was the SDECE's security leaky and the enemy had finally penetrated it to eliminate one of their best operatives? Whoever it was, they had made a clumsy attempt at entering and had been found wanting. Well, bad news for them!

He placed the key in the lock and readied himself to take down whatever was waiting for him in the room. As the key turned, his hand grabbed the handle as he simultaneously pulled and pushed. He burst in, key in his hand, ready to flail and s***h and stab.

The room was as he had left it that morning; neat, tidy and with the panoramic vista of the mountains that always amazed him. Except… except for the seated figure outlined against this dramatic backdrop, who said, with just a touch of mischief in his tone, “Ah. I've been expecting you, Gorilla Grant.”