by Carl Andrew
“Understood,” he said.
The line went dead and the man in the casual shirt tapped the mobile phone against his chin, pondering the conversation he’d just had.
He dialled another number and waited for the recipient to pick up.
“I’ve got a job for you…” he said.
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10 Downing Street, London
David summoned Benson, his Chief Protection Officer, into his office.
Benson had served with the Special Air Service, or SAS as it’s more commonly known, before joining David’s team.
He had left with the souvenirs of a scar above his left eyebrow in the shape of a tick and the promise of a career in the public sector protecting politicians.
They had worked together ever since David first got involved in politics.
Even after all that time, David didn’t know whether Benson was his first name or surname. Theirs was strictly a professional relationship. He’d been warned by associates that the way you work with your security detail was to be as impersonal as you could be.
That way, your security team see you as a job as opposed to a friend and remain absolutely focused on the job rather than losing concentration when dealing with a friend.
Benson knocked and then walked into David’s office.
“What can I do for you sir?” He asked with his usual degree of formality and professionalism.
“Benson thanks for coming in. I have a job for you. It’s slightly out of left field but I don’t know who else I can trust to do this.”
“Of course sir, what do you need?”
“I have a suspicion that we have a leak in my team. I need you to investigate for me but I need it to remain top secret. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir but my role here is to protect you not to investigate wrongdoing.” Benson was nervous at this change of role.
“I know that Benson but I have no one else I can turn to. I really need your help. You’ll be protecting both of us because if this leak continues, I may not have a job for much longer.”
“I see sir. I’ll make it a priority.”
“Thank you Benson, please report updates only to me and only verbal, no written communication on this.”
“Absolutely,” said Benson.
When his Chief Protection Officer left the room, David let out a deep breath.
However, with this one act, he knew he was straying into a territory he was unfamiliar with and one which left a bad taste in his mouth.
Regardless, he had loose ends to deal with and he was getting to them one at a time. That was progress…
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Finsbury Park, London
Leon had managed to book an appointment with his Doctor but, due to the time of year, it meant it was a while away. Colds, influenza and excuses to avoid going to work, dominated the ‘to do list’ of the average GP as the long winter months were slowly coming to an end.
Subconsciously, he started particularising what he ate and drank. He was becoming fastidious but Abby was just happy he was focused on looking after himself.
He felt a surge of energy after arranging the appointment as if a weight had been lifted and he was finally unrestrained. He was conscious that feeling may not last long.
The other piece of good news was that Sam had done an excellent job looking after The Day Today blog when Leon and Abby were away. He was happy to be called on again if required and that meant they could plan for more holidays in the future. They had someone they could trust.
Leon settled at his desk attempting to resume his normal working routine. The view from the window didn’t help motivate him. With rain streaming down, it presented an advert for doom and gloom and could have been sponsored by an umbrella company.
Fortunately, his phone rang, snapping him out of his lethargy. It was a number he didn’t recognise, always exciting.
“Hello, Leon speaking,” he said in his professional voice.
“Leon, its Vanessa,” she replied.
“Vanessa, I didn’t recognise the number. How are you?”
“I shouldn’t call. I mean, I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said. Her voice sounded unassured, uncertain. Not the normal confident Vanessa.
Leon sensed this and was immediately concerned.
“Vanessa, what’s wrong? What do you mean?”
“I need to speak to you. We need to meet. I can’t speak over the phone. Things are happening,” she was speaking in riddles and sounded ever more panicked with each word.
“Vanessa, calm down. What’s happening?”
Leon wanted to find out more but chastised himself for asking questions. It was obvious what she needed was a face to face.
“I can’t say. Can you meet today? 3pm in Clapham Common. Sit down at a bench and I’ll find you.”
This was entirely too intriguing for Leon but also concerning. Regardless of the fact that, to all intents and purposes, he and Vanessa were on opposite sides, he the blogger, she the spin doctor, he cared about her. He was considerate like that, more so now since his dad had died than before for some reason.
“Of course, I’ll be there,” he said before adding a cursory, “Stay safe.”
She put the phone down and he screwed his face up in recognition of his last statement. Stay safe, he thought to himself. Who the hell did he think he was? James Bond!
He checked his watch; it was the north side of lunch. He had an hour to get there.
Abby had been in the bedroom for the entire conversation. Leon was convinced she hadn’t heard the call. He didn’t want her to be complicit with whatever he was getting himself into. He wanted to protect her, so he revealed little.
“Abby,” he called out. “I’m popping out for an hour or so. I have a couple of leads I want to follow up. I’ll be back later ok.”
A muffled response was just about audible. “Ok,” she said.
As he walked down the road, he was wracking his brain trying to consider all of the possible permutations. He kept asking himself the same questions over and over again.
Why did she need me? What did she mean ‘things were happening’? Am I in danger? Is she in danger?
They were questions searching for answers he knew he wouldn’t find until they spoke.
The incessant pondering got him to the tube station before he knew it. He mapped out his route, Finsbury Park to Stockwell, Victoria Line; Stockwell to Clapham Common, Northern Line.
He’d lived in London long enough to know the connections of the underground inside out but he still questioned the tube map before each journey. Just in case a station had miraculously moved… Like that was at all possible.
Still the questions came back for pretty much the entire 50 minute journey. But they were joined by scenarios, some far-fetched, some more light hearted to bring him back from the grasping talons of fear.
The far-fetched ones took him to a place where he was a victim, he would turn up and be shot or Abby would be taken while he was out and they would use her safety to blackmail him.
The light hearted ones returned him to safety with tails of Vanessa quitting her job and wanting to work for him or Vanessa wanting him to work for the Government, offering him a political role.
The reality was that he just didn’t know what to expect. It was a mystery and he was purely speculating. His mind wondered more than most and that proved both a curse and a saviour.
Finally, he turned left out of the tube station and covered the short distance to Clapham Common. He searched around but something told him to select a bench that was secluded, hidden. He found one towards the far side of the Common, by a pond, protected by a copse of trees.
The sky was blue but it was chilly. The trees provided a rudimentary shield, however, he still pulled his coat in tight…
He checked his watch, 3pm exactly.
As if by magic, he heard a familiar vo
ice.
“Good choice. Well hidden.”
He turned round and was staring into Vanessa’s face. She looked different. Her usual grace and style replaced by vulnerability and dowdiness. It surprised him, she could tell.
“I know I look a mess. I’m sorry for the cloak and dagger stuff. We need to talk,” she said….
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Richmond, Surrey
Margaret Brooks had just braved the cold and rain to venture out so that Bertie the Black Labrador could enjoy the smells of the park. She came into the lounge and positioned herself on her favourite easy chair facing the window.
Bertie nestled in front of the fire. Smells were good but he needed to recover his body temperature and his favourite place was on his blanket next to Margaret’s feet, with the crackle of logs gently ceding to the lick of flames. This would be his place for the next hour at least.
Russell was at home for a change and enjoying a journey away from politics to while away into the fantasy realm of a die cast B52 Bomber that he was building from a model kit. All was calm in the Brooks household.
As was often the cause of disturbance, the phone rang.
He chastised the infernal device with an audible tut but picked it up to answer regardless of his frustration.
“Hello,” he said in ‘Minister Brooks’ voice, it was an octave lower than ‘Russell Brooks at home’ voice, he felt the need to be professional.
“Russell, I’m sorry to trouble you, its Jeremy Parks here. I wondered if you had time to speak.”
Jeremy and Russell went to school together and served in the army at the same time but they hadn’t spoken in a long while. Jeremy was CEO of a national charity called Brave, looking after the interests of war veterans who had fallen on difficult times.
“Jeremy, how are you?”
“I’m well thank you. Is this an ok time for a chat?” Jeremy replied.
“Of course, how can I help?”
“It’s a little bit of a strange one really. As you know, Brave operates shops around the country and also has five distribution centres for donated goods,” Jeremy began.
“We’re always welcoming of volunteers; it’s how we manage the workload. We’re reliant on them,” he said.
“Go on,” Russell interjected to provide encouragement.
“Well, ever since the Anti-Social Behaviour Act and, in particular, the liquid chip programme, our volunteer numbers have steadily increased,” Jeremy continued.
“That’s really encouraging to hear,” Russell said, missing the point entirely.
“Well, it is to a point Russell but more recently, as people have realised they can receive discounts on purchases if they do good, we’ve been inundated with help, literally, inundated.”
“But it’s created significant problems where my team has been verbally and sometimes physically abused when they’ve turned people away because they can’t take any more volunteers.”
“Oh I see,” Russell said, starting to understand the purpose of the call.
“Yesterday, a 60 year old called Derek Bridges, who has worked for Brave for almost 15 years, was pinned against the wall by a man in his mid-thirties and punched in the face. He was attacked because he had to turn this person away from volunteering because he had no space for an additional helper,” Jeremy was speaking with a heightened passion.
“I really don’t know what to say,” Russell was trying to just survive the call at this stage.
But Jeremy hadn’t finished.
“Do you know why this man was volunteering in the first place?” He asked Russell.
Without allowing a response, he continued.
“He was volunteering so he could go and buy a new TV and get a 5% Behaviour Discount. Things have gone crazy Russell.”
Finally, Jeremy had finished his discourse. He had been building up the courage for the call with Russell for a few hours and, when the moment arrived, the tightly coiled spring that he was unfurled at a rapid pace.
“Jeremy, I’m struggling for a response. Obviously that is completely against the aim of the Behaviour Discount and the Anti-Social Behaviour Act in its entirety,” Russell was having difficulty navigating the narrow path between apology and defence.
“With any new policy, particularly one that is such a fundamental change to how people live, there are always going to be one or two side effects. The situation you’ve described to me is one of the more unpleasant ones that we couldn’t possibly anticipate,” he concluded, erring on the side of defence.
“Please don’t try and politician me Russell,” Jeremy said in response. “I’ve known you for too long to realise when I’m speaking to Russell Brooks and when I’m speaking to Minister Brooks.”
“I understand that there are always going to be unknowns in politics but all I ask is that you at least consider the implications of this and have a think about how to manage it so it doesn’t get out of hand,” he continued.
“Can you do that for an old friend Russell?”
Russell appreciated Jeremy’s tactic to personalise the situation. “I’ll do what I can Jeremy, that’s all I can say at this stage. It would be good to catch up soon. It’s been way too long,” he said.
At the point, the conversation was able to move on to simply two friends talking. Jeremy had said his piece and that was all he wanted to achieve.
When the call finished, Russell immediately dialled David Lawson. He told him about the previous call and found out that David’s team had also heard of stories of unrest involving charities and volunteers. They agreed to discuss it as soon as possible to consider possible solutions.
Neither admitted to this but the tone of the call suggested that both had a feeling the policy was starting to unravel and needed to be tidied up. It was an early warning sign that they hoped they had caught before it was beyond repair.
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Clapham Common, London
Vanessa paused before continuing to explain why she had dragged Leon out to a face to face meeting. It wasn’t a pause for effect but more one of uncertainty. She wasn’t sure how to start and what to reveal.
She had planned what she wanted to say ever since their call had ended earlier that day. It’s just that, when it came to it, the words in her head didn’t seem fitting.
For Leon, the delay was excruciating but he knew from prior experience with nervous interviewees that his best strategy was patience.
He gave her the time she required and tried to manage his body language to be as reassuring as possible to her.
Finally, she spoke.
She told him about the trouble she was having with David. How she believed that he was convinced she was a mole and had shared secrets externally.
She told him about how difficult it had been to get back into his confidence and how she had only just managed to do so.
Leon was trying to be supportive, nodding at the most opportune moment and gently touching her arm as a sign of solidarity.
Vanessa revealed the whole story to Leon about her working relationship with David, how she’d always seen him as a brilliant man and what the election campaign was like to be involved in.
Leon could have had enough stories to post on the blog for weeks to come but he approached this conversation as if he was speaking to a friend and everything was confidential.
He also sensed there was more to come. He could tell that Vanessa was speaking within her comfort zone to build up to a point where she could tentatively tread over the boundary, like a musical score reaching its crescendo.
She spoke about her family and how her father had struggled to give them a new life in Britain. How she forced herself to be better than her peers at every stage of her life, through school, college, university and into her career as a repayment to her father for everything he had done.
Her story was akin to numerous other successful migrants and flowed off
her tongue proudly. She was aware what she had achieved in her life but never lost sight of why she was doing it.
That was the reason why she could never settle down in a relationship. She realised long ago that a relationship would be a distraction to her achieving her goals. Now she had realised those objectives, her relationship latency had become a way of life and she couldn’t identify how to alter that path.
Leon could sense tears in her eyes as she revealed all to him. In the pond, the ducks would occasionally come near and quack at the most unfortunate moment. The scene was almost comical and he had to focus to avoid distraction.
They always seemed to choose to become vocal at a very sensitive point in Vanessa’s story. It was almost cruel.
Finally, she turned to the real point of the meeting.
“Recently, I’ve been having doubts Leon,” she said.
“Doubts about what, your career, your role?” He offered her a route forward in the conversation. The way the discussion had gone to this point had convinced Leon it was about her leaving her job.
“No Leon, I’ve been having doubts about David and if I really know him and what he’s capable of,” after she finished the sentence, Leon’s face turned. She was entering a realm that Leon did not know whether he wanted to venture into.
He let her continue. She could sense that he was a little afraid of what might come.
“I’ve been thinking it for a while,” she said. “But last week something happened that provided a little more clarity to the murky voices that had been chattering somewhere in the corner of my mind.”
Leon couldn’t help himself. It was like watching the cliff hanger ending to every great TV show in an instant.
“Vanessa, what happened?” He said. It was a car crash where he wanted to open the door to see what was inside. He knew he wouldn’t like what he saw but it was too tempting not to look.
“Leon, what I’m about to tell you is not for publication, do you understand?”
“Vanessa, I can’t guarantee anything. It’s my job, I cover what happens in Parliament. I would only agree to that if it was a life or death situation,” Leon replied.
