The Good: A page turning thriller where politics meets future technology in a bid to control human behaviour

by Carl Andrew

  “Thank you. Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, as you are obviously aware, we face troubling times. The escalation of the violence overnight can only be described as barbaric and not acceptable for a civilised society such as ours.”

  “As a Government we are deeply concerned by these events and our thoughts go out to all of the brave victims of these terrible acts.”

  “These people were our postmen, our butchers, shop assistants, bank managers, wives, sisters, brothers and fathers. They were also giving their time selflessly to protecting our streets and for that, we owe them more than words can possibly state.”

  David was personalising the message, positioning himself as just another member of the shocked and frustrated masses.

  “These thugs, these gangs have reached a new level of cowardice leaving us all fearful of what might come. However, as we try and pick up the pieces of a night filled with pure hatred, we have to keep focused on providing a unified resistance to these bullies.”

  “I accept that now is a difficult time to consider our individual responsibilities but we can’t let them win. We won’t let them win.”

  “As a nation, we’ve faced adversity before but, as a people, we always find the courage to stand up to whatever challenge has lain before us.”

  “Once again, we need to call upon that Britishness; that resolve. We need to face our enemies and we need to let them know that this happens no more.”

  He was in full on battle cry. He had to draw out the nostalgia of a Britain under attack. It might mean different things to different people with some thinking about a time of war and others another moment in history where Britain was troubled in another way.

  “While many will expect a reaction from the Government and, believe me, there will be a reaction. It is not the time for knee jerk responses. With that, I’d like to hand over to Minister Brooks to provide details of our strategy to tackle this issue.”

  “Thank you for your time and courage.”

  The emotional address had reached some of the audience as hoped. There were a couple of journalists who were brought to applause and then looked around embarrassingly when they realised they were not wholeheartedly supported.

  Russell made his way to the stage shaking the Prime Ministers’ hand as he moved past him.

  “Thank you Prime Minister,” he said, providing the usual etiquette of common courtesy, even though he’d heard that speech at least ten times before that same morning.

  “As you’ve just heard from the Prime Minister, now is the time for cool heads and calm minds.”

  “Our response defines exactly that. We urge the community groups and Neighbourhood Watch Schemes to stand firm in the face of such provocation. We are extending police engagement with these volunteer groups and, from today, there will be at least one police relationship officer assigned to each group.”

  “They will work closely with each group on how to essentially ‘police’ their individual areas. They will be afforded greater powers to apprehend and detain troublemakers. Their requests for police support will be considered tier 1 and will be answered on a first available response basis.”

  “This means that when they make a call to their police relationship officer, a response team will be despatched as a priority. Also, the police relationship officer will be present in the Neighbourhood Watch area regularly.”

  “Authorised Neighbourhood Watch volunteers will be given special new powers to be able to apprehend and detain troublemakers for up to 30 minutes by which time a police response team will then take over.”

  “We believe that by extending the level of authority, these schemes have a far greater level of protection and control over the areas in which they operate.”

  Russell paused to gauge the reaction. There was some murmuring, which was to be expected, but on the whole there was more of a placid breeze as opposed to a wild sirocco emanating from the audience.

  “Like I said before, we could have taken a much more aggressive approach. I have heard rumours of the army being called in. That’s a road we don’t want to go down and should only ever be considered a last resort.”

  “However, let me state categorically that what happened last night was a one off occurrence. I accept that we were caught off guard but that won’t happen again.”

  “Ok, thank you for listening. We have about ten minutes for questions so please follow the usual format.”

  A hand went up immediately on the far left of the room, Russell acknowledged it.

  “Simon Spencer, The Guardian. Minister Brooks, a few weeks ago before the Christmas break you mentioned you would provide an update on the long term strategy you and the Department of Social Behaviour were looking to announce in mid-January. Seeing as we’re almost there, what is happening and is there any update?”

  “Thank you Simon. I can confirm that we are working very closely with the Institute of Behavioural Science and results from the research project have been very positive to date…”

  As Russell drew breath, the journalist jumped in before he had a chance to continue.

  “That’s all well and good Minister but I’m asking if there is an update. We’ve heard from you before that you are working with the Institute. We’ve also heard a promise of a long term strategy to be announced on numerous occasions but we’re still none the wiser. What’s happening?”

  “With all due respect Simon, to tackle an issue such as the one we are challenged with takes time. I understand there have been one or two false dawns before,” Russell was trying to be honest in his appraisal. He knew there was no skirting over this issue.

  The Government more directly his department had promised and so far failed to deliver a viable solution. He had nowhere to hide.

  “What I can say is we are working with the best scientific brains in the country with the sole aim to devise a solution to the anti-social behaviour on our streets. Do you think I like to see events such as those we witnessed last night?”

  Russell paused to allow the journalist to respond to what was, in all intents and purposes, a rhetorical question. He knew he wouldn’t speak up.

  “Let me be clear, I will provide a long term strategy. I will announce it to you as soon as it is formulated. I will not, however, be forced into a rash decision simply to satisfy an urgent need for gratification.”

  “Yes we have been incorrect in our estimations of how long this would take. But I assure you and I assure the British public, we are working hard to find a solution and a solution we will find,” concluded Russell.

  The assembled media were unsure how to take the response. Leon, for one, had never heard the Minister be so forceful. He was both impressed and taken aback.

  The proceeding questions were mainly on the previous nights’ attacks which David Lawson and Russell Brooks fielded with ease following the morning’s preparation.

  Overall, the main thing Russell wanted to achieve with the press conference was to face up to the delay of the solution to the anti-social behaviour issue.

  When the press conference reached its conclusion and Leon found his way back out onto the street, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “Hi Abby,” immediately that salutation caught him off guard. “Wow, it’s going to take me a while to get used to calling you Abby after all the ‘Sarah’ weeks.”

  “I know,” Abby said. “I’m sorry to put you in such a difficult situation.”

  “No, honestly, it’s not an issue. I fell in love with you, the person, not Sarah the name. Please don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and your mum are back on speaking terms,” Leon responded with genuine feeling.

  “Anyway, how’s everything back at base, much action?” He asked.

  “The usual array of emails not really story material but useful background. How was the press conference?”

  “Interesting,” he said. “Minister Brooks revealed more of himself today than I’ve ever seen before. I just can’t seem to shake this feeling that there
’s more to this relationship with the Institute of Behavioural Science than we’re being told.”

  “I know it’s still pretty fresh but do you think your mum would be willing to reschedule our interview and speak to me about the research she’s working on?”

  “I’m not sure,” Abby replied. “I can ask.”

  ------------------------------------------------------------

  That evening - Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire

  The two dark figures moved under cover of darkness. They had one sole aim and they were going to complete their objective.

  Sebastian had purposefully made this operation a much smaller affair. The previous attack on the Institute, before it became associated with the Department of Social Behaviour, had been on a much grander scale.

  The attack on the scientist’s house was the same. Maximum effort, full resource, total awareness.

  On this occasion, though, their prize had multiplied in value because of the close affiliation with the Government.

  He had contacted the two operatives through the Unity social network. He already knew who he wanted and had intrigued them enough to be involved.

  In activist land, there are different types of people, those who were committed to a cause and those who floated from one cause to another just for the buzz.

  The two he’d selected were well known environmental mercenaries. If anyone could do the job at hand, he knew it would be them.

  The mission would not be easy. The Institute was protected by much greater security since it had changed over. Sebastian could almost smell the secrets it was hiding and he longed to release them to the world.

  He was on the hunt and his prey was a Government department.

  As the two men approached the facility they cautiously held their position to scope out what lay before them.

  This was preparation and planning on the fly. They had not been able to get close enough to the Institute before the mission because of the enhanced security detail in place. They had to guess, adapt and hope.

  Spotting the watch guards, they timed their routines. A door was visible towards the back of the main building and was well protected by a couple of large industrial bins, the perfect cover.

  An outer building had lights visible and they could sense movement within it. It was closer to them and just too tempting to avoid taking a sneak peek.

  In full on stealth mode, they slowly and quietly crawled their way to the nearest window, complete with solid iron bars to deter unwanted intruders.

  Careful not to be seen, the taller of the two men slowly raised up to his full frame, providing the height to look into the side of the window. He slid along until he could make out a corner of the room inside.

  This would have to do in terms of a visual. He could tell there was a person in the room and he couldn’t risk getting seen at this early stage of the operation.

  Scanning what he could see of the room he noticed the edge of a bed, a wash basin, a door to the outer corridor and a small wardrobe.

  His eyes fixed on the wardrobe. There was a garment hanging from the doorknob. On the breast pocket appeared some writing. He strained to read it.

  The words ‘HM Prison’ was all he could see. He almost fell back and had to put pressure on his supporting leg to steady himself.

  When he got down to the same level as his partner, he said in a whisper: “They’ve got fuckin’ prisoners in there.”

  “What?” His partner was struggling to comprehend what he’d just been told.

  Repeating what he’d said with a voice as loud as he was able to muster he uttered: “Prisoners. What the hell are prisoners doing here?”

  They withdraw to a safer distance away. He explained to his friend that he’d seen a jumper with the words ‘HM Prison’ on it.

  They both sat next to each other in silence trying to work things out for a few moments.

  “Sebastian said that they are working on some new research, something to do with social behaviour and that they may be doing live trials. Do you think the live trials are being done on prisoners and not animals?” the taller one said to his compatriot.

  “Surely not, I mean that’s something they’d have to disclose publicly, right?” responded the other.

  “Either way, we have to go inside and gather some evidence to prove or disprove what I’ve just seen,” the first guy was animated as he spoke.

  “This could be huge!” he said.

  Back to the task at hand, they waited patiently for a further hour to check on the watch guard cycle. Once they felt confident of the timings, they made their move.

  Carefully navigating the complex forecourt, the two men glided across the changeable terrain like a pair of pond skaters skipping over the surface of a lake.

  They were gaining maximum yardage while displacing little in terms sticks, gravel and stones.

  Twenty feet from the target door they heard footsteps by the opposite side of the building. The lead guy was fine but it sounded too close for the second one to be able to make the cover of the bins at his current pace.

  In that moment, he made a decision to dive and roll, commando style.

  Timed to perfection, he manipulated his body into a circular form and found the ground in time to throw his body over itself.

  He nestled next to his partner behind the bins. The guard was none the wiser as he retraced the steps of his usual route back to his cabin.

  The taller guy felt for the door handle and quietly forced it downwards, locked.

  He pulled a device from his pocket and expertly teased the lock open in an instant. They were in, fortunately no alarm.

  Inside the building, they split up and headed in opposite directions. They knew the layout of the building from the plans drawn up following the previous break in. It was pretty much the same.

  In ten minutes they had covered as much of the building as they had wanted to and met back at the rendezvous point near the target door.

  “Anything?” said the smaller guy.

  “Yep, I think I have it,” the taller one glanced down to his hand encouraging his partner to follow his gaze.

  He was clutching a folder marked confidential stuffed full of papers.

  “It’s their research protocol. Someone left it out in the room at the end. They must have become complacent with all the extra security in place here,” he smiled. “They didn’t count on us coming.”

  “Great. Ok, let’s go,” the smaller one was getting fidgety. That was never a good sign. He was well known for his sense of a situation. Some say he could smell trouble.

  Through the door and outside they waited behind the cover of the industrial bins to see what foe was out there that they’d have to avoid.

  All quiet.

  With a nod, they were gone following their trail back out of the complex. Across the forecourt towards the outer building housing the prisoners, they moved with pace and guile until…

  “Stop there,” a voice from behind them. They couldn’t tell how far.

  They heard the crackle of a radio.

  “Control, we have intruders, heading to the northern perimeter. I’m in pursuit, out.”

  Shit, shit, shit. This was not good, thought the taller guy.

  “We have to split up, I’ll go east. Good luck buddy,” he said.

  They separated. No time for handshakes, no time for goodbyes. Just go.

  Engines revved and vehicles were in motion but this wasn’t the first time these two had been in a tight spot. They used the hospitality of the shadows to avoid detection, each moving swiftly in different directions.

  The perimeter fence was not far from the outer building and by the time the guards had mobilised, foot speed had covered the distance.

  They were free.

  Rendezvousing at a pub about half a mile away from the Institute, the two old friends offered each other a smile and a nod in appreciation of their escape.

  A quick visit to the bar presented a beer for each of them an
d they made their way to a vacant table.

  Checking they were out of earshot of their nearest neighbour, the taller one pulled out his phone and dialled.

  “Sebastian, we got it. It’s big. One problem though, they know we broke in but they didn’t see our faces or catch us. They can’t trace it back but they know we were in there.”

  “When you see what we’ve got, you’ll see it was all worth it. See you soon,” he concluded the conversation quickly and ended the call.

  Chapter 18:

  The next day - 10 Downing Street, London

  Vanessa was just finishing in the shower adjoining her office, after her yoga session that morning. She found that exercise in the early hours help to get her prepared for the day ahead. Getting her heart rate up gave her focus.

  No matter how tired she was or how little sleep she had, a good workout always seemed to give her the energy needed to get through the day.

  Drying herself with a large fluffy towel, she cursed her luck and the God’s of timing when she heard the phone ring.

  Always at the worst bloody time, she thought to herself.

  It was her direct line which meant it must be important. Only a few people had that number. She had to answer it.

  Still a little damp, she pressed to talk.

  “Hello.”

  “Vanessa, its Jennifer, sorry to call you so early but we’ve had another break in at the Institute. I thought you should know.”

  “How the hell did they get in?” Vanessa enquired. “I thought we’d beefed up security there.”

  “They evaded the security. They must have been professionals. No one even knew they were there until they were on their way out. They were just too quick. They got away after being spotted by one of the guards,” Jennifer said.

  “Did he get a look at them?” asked Vanessa.

  “Just the back of their heads, nothing that could be used as a description,” she replied.

  Jennifer’s voice was sounding tense. She usually handled these break-ins with calm and professionalism but not this time. Vanessa sensed there was more to this break-in than Jennifer had let on so far.