The Psychic Spy

The Psychic Spy

Copyright 2013 Irene Allen-Block

Published by Glannant Ty Publishing

Third Edition: January 2017

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Before the Loss of Innocence

Chapter One – Recruitment

Chapter Two – Training

Chapter Three – The Truth Revealed

Chapter Four – Remote Viewing

Chapter Five – The Spy Who Loved Me

Chapter Six – Nightmares

Chapter Seven – Lost In The Music

Chapter Eight – Remote Influencing

Chapter Nine – The Next Stage

Chapter Ten – Tehran 1979

Chapter Eleven – Vizan Koslov

Chapter Twelve – The Falkland Islands

Chapter Thirteen – The First Kill

Chapter Fourteen – Moscow

Chapter Fifteen – Back Home

Chapter Sixteen – Lockerbie

Chapter Seventeen – Back In The U.S.S.R.

Chapter Eighteen – Pontone Italy

Chapter Nineteen – Home Again

Chapter Twenty – Agent In Hiding

Author’s Afterward

About the Author

Dedication

When I was asked if I was going to do a dedication for this book, I did not even have to think about it.

I dedicate this book to my husband Brian, who supports me in everything I do, who has stood by my side in all the ups and downs of marriage and remained smiling. Who loves me without question and has always been my best friend.

To my two sons Jamie and Billy, they are my biggest and best accomplishments in this world. You two have a knack of listening to my advice and then doing the opposite only to find out mum was right in the first place. These are the two boys in my life that are so over protecting of their mother that it comes close to obsession. What it does do is prove to me just how much they love me.

Without any one of you three who would I be?

And to Willow, you were and always will be my life. I miss you, but I know one day we will be once again together in the next world.

Acknowledgements

The writing of this book has not been easy for me. Although a work of fiction, it is based on some true events in my life and brought back many memories, both good and bad alike. There were times during the writing of this book when I was on an emotional high remembering these events, and there were just as many times when I was dragged down into depression at some of the things I was forced to do. I felt my mood fluctuate with the writing of each chapter, and never before has writing a book messed so much with my emotions.

My acknowledgments go as follows; to those I believe deserve them the most, and those that helped me stay strong through the writing of this book. Thank you for putting up with me:

- Mark Johnson; my agent and manager. He is the one person that made this book possible. He urged me forward when things got tough, and I had nearly given up. He worked endless hours reviewing the manuscript and offering suggestions, and even created the cover art. He has shown faith in me, and that says a lot. You are my man, Mark.

- Teresa Chance; who also worked hard on proofreading the book. Teresa saw something in the premise from the very beginning, and her words of encouragement helped me to carry on. Teresa, you are a good friend who I will always cherish.

- The rest of the team at Spirit Rescue International Ltd; who had to keep things together when I was engrossed in the creation of this book. Your commitment and support never cease to amaze me.

- Tony Topping; someone I look on as a friend, and who understands exactly what this book is about. He was able to give me some very useful advice, for which I am grateful.

Last but not least, to the one man remaining in Italy. Thank you! What more can I say?

This book is a work of fiction based on real-life and historical events. All names have been changed to protect the identities of any real persons, living or dead.

BEFORE THE LOSS OF INNOCENCE

Age has finally caught up with me; there are now more years behind than in front. Maybe it is now time to tell my story.

I was happy in those days before they found me, my life then was like any other young girl of my age. I was carefree the only hard decision I had to make at any time was which shoes to wear with which outfit. I suppose you could say I was selfish, worrying as far as I was concerned was up to people of my parent's age group.

Times were tough in London during the sixties and seventies. Organized gangs ruled the streets, and IRA bombs were a regular daily occurrence, so much so that people had become accustomed to them and simply went about their lives.

I had friends all as crazy as me; we would travel into the city to the night clubs dance till the early hours of the morning and in a drunken haze attempt to find a fella with a car to take us home. This was never a problem with us girls, our short dresses bum length and stiletto heels gave us all long sexy legs that I am sure many a lad would not have complained about having them wrapped around him. I had a secret talent that only those close to me knew about I could see ghosts. On occasion when we had no money and were bored I would give my friends readings, contact their relatives on the other side, it was fun we would gather in either my house when my parents were not home or in the home of another friend.

Those days of my youth were short lived, at the time I had no idea that the father of one of the girls worked for an organization in London that would change my life forever.

CHAPTER ONE

Recruitment

It was another hot and sticky summer afternoon. The heat and haze hung over the London skyline like a heavy blanket, masking the tops of the buildings in an opaque haze that made the city appear as if part of some surreal dream. Crowds of people filled the pavement, each busy with their thoughts as they rushed about on their lunch breaks to either grab a bite to eat, shop or take in the sunshine while they could.

Eileen Evans ran down the pavement towards the bus stop, dodging slower pedestrians in her way. She was a pretty, young London woman who had just finished doing a photo shoot for a French magazine on her lunch hour, and now she was late getting back to her office. Philippe, the photographer, working on contract for the magazine, had taken his sweet time preparing the lighting rig. She suspected this had less to do with lighting the set, and more to do with Philippe wanting to spend more time with her. He was an attractive bloke, but while the modeling brought in some extra income, she couldn’t afford to lose her job at the travel agency. Still, even though she was over an hour late getting back from her lunch break, she wasn’t too worried about getting into trouble. Martin, her boss, had a giant crush on her, so as long as she gave him a big smile and a wink she would more than likely get around him. If worse came to the worse, she could make up the time up by working an hour later come the end of the day.

Eileen reached the bus stop just as the bus rolled up to the curb, the breaks squealing as it rolled to a stop. She darted up the steps and quickly took the nearest seat. The last few stragglers lazily climbed aboard the bus, and then the driver pulled out once again onto the busy London Street.

Eileen was very pretty, so it was easy for her to get modeling gigs. Martin secretly thought she was gorgeous, which he mistakenly believed he could hide from everyone in the office, but Eileen saw right through him. In her mind, she was just an eighteen-year-old British girl simply doing her best to get by. Things were not easy at home for her parents. She had an older brother and two younger sisters, so her mom stayed home to take care of the children while her father struggled to hold down two jobs just to make ends meet. Eileen and her oldest brother Robert both got jobs to help contribute to the family the best they could. None of them made a lot of money, but they got by as a family.

Eileen loved modeling and was happy to get the occasional photo shoot, but it was extremely hard to break into the modeling world. She once got accepted into Lucy Clayton’s modeling agency on Bond Street when she was sixteen, but her dad couldn’t afford to pay a fee for her to attend and to be professionally trained. So, she became a part-time model instead, taking gigs whenever they came about. Besides working at a travel agency and picking up the occasional modeling job, Eileen also worked on the weekends as a dancer at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go over on Waldorf Street. She loved to dance, and when the opportunity came up where she could dance and get paid for it, she jumped at the chance. Every little bit helped, as far as she was concerned, and she had no qualms about using her looks to her advantage. Some people could judge her as being slutty or a tramp, but at the time it was all she had to help her family.

The bus came to a stop; several more people got on while a few got off. Eileen had one more stop to go. She looked nervously at her watch. She was pushing her luck on time and mentally tried to will the bus driver to drive faster. She shifted her gaze towards the back of the bus and noticed an older woman seated in the very last row. The woman's clothing appeared out of place; about twenty years out of place. Her skin was oddly colorless, and she had that vacant stare that so many of them had whenever she would see them in her day to day travels. Eileen turned her gaze away, hardly paying attention to her. She had become so completely used to seeing the dead that she barely gave it a second thought anymore, at least during her normal work day. It was when she was called in by people to help them with their special problems, as she liked to think of them. She would then give these dead souls her full and undivided attention to help them move on to the final destination.

Eileen was a psychic; or more accurately a medium. Her mother had a bit of the sight, but she was so practical in everything that she did that she mostly ignored it. Now Eileen's grandmother, Abby, was so good she sometimes frightened Eileen when she was young. Abby saw that her grand-daughter had the sight, stronger than her mother, and helped her to understand it and develop it while she was growing up. For the past two years, she would assist friends of hers that would come to her with nervous looks, and they would tell her about the spirits in their house and how they were making a nuisance. Eileen would go to their homes and immediately connect with these wandering spirits. Most of whom were former owners of the house in question who had died and were reluctant to move on for one reason or another. Being a natural medium, Eileen could speak with these departed spirits in her mind and convince them to move on to the other side. She had been able to do this as long as she could remember, and for her it was all perfectly natural. At a young age, she had learned to keep quiet around most people since they did not have these abilities, and some of them reacted quite negatively around her when they found out. But seeing the dead lady at the back of the bus drew no more attention from her as a live person would. It was just normal.

The bus slowed to a stop at her corner, and she jumped out, then half strutted down the sidewalk until she reached her building. A sign hung above the door telling anyone who entered that this was East Ender Travel. Eileen stopped to look at her reflection in the window to ensure her hair was not too badly out of place. And then she strolled casually into the office as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The other girls looked at her in horror as if to say ‘you’re in for it’, but Eileen just giggled and put her finger to her lips to quiet them before they made any noise.

Martin was in his office working away. She could see him through the glass door, and he looked thoroughly engrossed in something, too distracted to notice her tardiness. She crept past his door and sat down at her desk as if she had been there for some time. One of the older ladies in the office glared at her disapprovingly from over her desk, but Eileen ignored her. She knew that she’d have to be more careful in the future, or she would eventually get into real trouble. Just then her phone rang, and it was time to get back to work taking reservations for people wanting to travel across Europe. Yes sir! Would you like a connecting train? I can book you one from Paris. No madam, there is no free meal included in that price on the boat. Would you like me to reserve a place for you in the restaurant? Yes sir. No sir. Three bags full, yes sir. It was a boring job, but it paid well.

She knuckled down to her work to try and catch up on her quota of bookings. An hour or so had gone by, and Martin still hadn’t pulled her into his office to scold her over the long lunch break. Maybe he hadn’t noticed, she thought. Or maybe he was just too busy, and the fall-out would come later? Whatever the reason, Eileen was only too happy that she didn’t have to feed his obsession with her by flirting with him. He was a nice bloke for a middle-aged man, but he also had a wife and three kids at home, so he was not for her.

One of the girls who worked further down the line approached her.

Eileen, I have a call for you from someone who said he had spoken to you yesterday about his booking. He can’t remember his reference number and is insistent that he deals with you only. Do you want me to transfer it?

Sure Emma, she responded. Send it over.

Emma plodded off back to her desk. As she passed one of the better-looking boys in the office, Eileen noticed how her bottom took on a more pronounced wiggle while the boy took a good long look as it strutted on past him. Within seconds, her telephone rang, and she answered it like she did a hundred times a day.

East Ender Travel, she said professionally. This is Eileen.

Hello Eileen, my name is Robin.

Good afternoon Robin. I’ve been told you wish to talk about a booking you made with me?

Oh, not really, he said quite casually. That’s just what I told the other lady so that she would transfer me to you. Eileen was taken back by this for a second, but then quickly gathered her wits. It was not the first time she had been hit on by a customer. She proceeded as professionally as she could, preparing for the moment when she would let him down so she could get on with her job.

"Okay Robin. Then how exactly may I help you?

I called because the company I work with is conducting a research program, and we feel that you would be a perfect candidate to participate.

Is this a joke? She whispered into the telephone so no one could hear. If she got caught for taking personal phone calls, she would end up in Martin’s office. Still, her curiosity had just jumped from zero to ten. Who was this man, and how did he know her name?

No, I am serious, he replied. Please listen to what I have to say, it will only take a moment of your time.

His voice was soft and gentle, soothing in fact, almost hypnotic. He had a North London accent, and as he spoke, she could feel herself becoming lost in his voice as his words drifted over her.

Alright, but this will have to be quick. I don’t want to get into trouble talking to you, she continued to whisper.

My company studies people with psychic abilities, and we know of your work with the paranormal.

How the bloody hell could he have known that, Eileen thought to herself. She was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to respond. Robin continued.

We are conducting tests on various aspects of how this type of work can affect a person -- aspects like intuition, ESP or Extra sensory perception, clairaudience, clairvoyance -- things like that. From what we’ve heard you are extremely gifted, and we would like you to participate in our research. Think of it as being like taking a survey.

What’s in it for me? Eileen was quick to ask. She didn’t know if he was serious or not, but she did know that she needed money for her family.

You will get paid £20 for your time. How do you feel about this?

Eileen sat up straight. £20? Just for taking a survey? It sounded too good to be true.

What’s the catch?

No catch, the smooth voice on the line responded casually.

When is it, and where? I can’t take any time off work.

You live in South London. Is that correct?

Yes, and just how in the bloody hell do you know that?

We’ve been following your work for some time. Meet me at the Aerodrome Hotel this coming Saturday morning at eleven-thirty. That way you won’t have to worry about missing work.

Wait a minute. I don’t know you, and I’m not about to meet a stranger at a hotel.

We’ll meet in the lobby, he said, nonplussed. There will be plenty of people around. You can bring a friend with you if that will make you feel safer. Just listen to what we have to say, and if you don’t like it, you can go home and keep the money. No harm, no loss. If you decide to go through with it, the test will take place in one of the hotel conference rooms. You will be free to leave at any time.

It didn’t strike Eileen until later how convenient it all seemed. The test was taking place on