by Carl Andrew
Stroud Green Road was its usual hotchpotch of shoppers and sellers, loud noise and multicultural relationships. He loved the rich tapestry of the area; it had so much more depth than many other parts of London.
He was still struggling to shake the conversation with Vanessa from his mind. What made it even more challenging was that he hadn’t heard from her since. He wondered if her contact had uncovered anything. Surely she would have called… he thought.
He didn’t want to call her without having anything specific to say. In fact, the more he thought about it, he realised he didn’t want contact with her at all if he could help it. He wanted to escape this desperate situation he had happened himself into.
Smelling the rich aroma of coffee from a nearby North African café, he decided to pop in and relieve himself of the cold. He ordered a Turkish coffee and took it with him to a small booth at the back of the room.
As he enjoyed the sumptuous taste of the rich blend, his momentary respite was ruined by his phone ringing. It was a usual occurrence. Because of his job, his phone tended to be more active than most.
He checked the screen, private number. He looked around him to see who was within earshot and saw he was quite solitary.
“Hello,” he said trying to find the vocal balance between discreet and audible.
He could hear familiar heavy breathing. It was his policeman friend. Things suddenly became very interesting.
“Is that Leon?” the familiar voice came.
“Yes it is. How are you?” Leon replied before adding, “You know I feel I know you but I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s best that way. We need to meet.” It was a gravelly response.
“Really, you mean face to face?” Leon asked.
“Yes,” a curt reply ensued.
“Why? I mean why now? I thought you wanted to remain anonymous,” Leon screwed his face up in frustration at his naivety. He was annoyed that he’d just blurted out how he felt and didn’t consider what an opportunity it could turn out to be by meeting this faceless contact. He didn’t want to spook him.
“Things are getting dangerous. I may not be able to stop them for long. There are things you need to know,” the gravelly voice said.
“Dangerous, what do you mean dangerous? Can’t stop who?” He couldn’t help asking questions.
“I can’t say any more,” the gravelly voice responded.
“Where, when?” Leon enquired.
The response sent a chill down Leon’s spine.
“Same place you met Miss Lim the other day, same bench, same pond. 3pm tomorrow, I’ll find you.”
The call dropped out before Leon could ask how the hell this person knew about the meeting between him and Vanessa.
He tried in vain, “Hello, hello… are you still there?” But nothing, he was talking to a dead phone.
He was shocked. He didn’t know what to do. He looked around to see if he was being watched. Suddenly, everyone and everything felt suspicious.
Pulling on his jacket he hastened out of the café, turned left and headed home. He needed a place of safety. He needed to think.
The journey back to the flat was navigated in a fraction of the time it took him to get to the café initially. He was walking as quickly as he could without breaking in to a run. That would’ve just looked unnatural and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
He opened the door, got inside and slammed it shut. He leant with his back against the door and took three deep breaths. Suddenly, he wondered if he’d checked behind him to see if he was being followed.
No, shit, he thought to himself.
He peered through the spy hole in the door…. nothing.
Slowly, he made his way to the window. It had a good view of the street outside. Looking through it from the left hand corner he noticed nothing but stillness. No one was about. He felt comforted.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he search for and dialled a number.
The recipient picked up.
“Vanessa, I need to talk to you. Is this phone secure?” He asked his voice crackling with panic.
“Yes, it’s fine. Leon, what’s wrong?”
“Someone knows about us, about our meeting,” he said.
Vanessa’s turn to panic: “What? How the hell? Who knows? What happened?”
“I got a call from a contact. You remember I told you about the man who gave me the information about leaking the liquid chips into the water source?”
“Yes, go on. What did he say?” She asked. She wanted to rush him to the end. She wanted all the information now.
“He told me he wants to meet face to face. He told me he was in danger, that there were things I needed to know. I asked him where to meet and he told me to meet at the same place I met you, in the park, by the pond tomorrow at 3pm. Vanessa, he knows?” Leon’s fear was heightened by relaying the conversation out loud.
Vanessa managed to regain her composure. “But how? We were careful. No one knew where we were going. I checked around and I wasn’t being followed. I don’t understand.”
“What do I do Vanessa? I mean, what if it’s a trap?”
“Leon, you have to meet him. There’s no other choice. He’s either with us or against us but either way, he knows. We have to meet him…YOU have to meet him,” she said with purpose.
“Ok, ok. I know. I need some time to think, any news from your contact?” Leon asked.
“Nothing at this stage, it could take days,” she replied.
“Shit, shit. Ok, I have to go. I need to think,” Leon said again before hanging up.
He went over to his desk, sat down and put his head into his hands.
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Silicon Fen, Cambridge, Cambridgeshire
The corner office was shrouded in spring sunshine as the man in the casual shirt flicked through the paper letting out tut after tut at the latest gossip of how some person or other flouted the rules; and those who lost out thought it wasn’t fair.
“You make your own luck in this life,” he said aloud. He draw a long sip on his lukewarm water with lemon and revelled in the sourness. Life was good.
Looking out of the window, he thought about his to do list wondering what he had to tackle next. He opened his laptop and reviewed his email. One particular message caught his eye. He opened it and read it.
He got up, walked to his cupboard and opened the safe. He pulled out the mobile phone that lay within and dialled a number.
“I thought I told you not to call me,” came the greeting.
“The source has been found, we’re compromised, I'll provide a name later,” the man in the casual shirt said. “I’ll arrange to have it removed,” he continued.
“Thank you.”
The call was concluded and the phone was positioned back in the safe in the cupboard by the wall.
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The following day - Clapham Common, London
Leon’s life was now a blur. Whichever way he turned led to uncertainty and danger. He was running on autopilot.
The last 24 hours had been the longest he’d ever had. He had to act his way through a call with Abby to pretend that everything was ok. There were so many occasions he wanted to break down and cry. He needed his rock more than ever but he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t bring her into this… this hell.
So, he lied. He lied to the girl he loved. He lied to protect her. But how would she understand that. How could she forgive him for such a betrayal? He had no choice.
Work was a non-starter. He couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes. Thoughts and fears danced in his mind entangling his sense of reason.
The list he had started for his doctor to record his ailment lay open on the table, discarded. He hadn’t touched it since yesterday morning. It was pointless now, everything was pointless now.
Vanessa had also called earlier.
She was concerned he wouldn’t go to meet the contact. She called to persuade him to do the right thing. She knew he was scared, she felt for him but there was only one potential way out of this.
The call wasn’t necessary. Leon had already decided he had no choice but to go.
The clock on the wall appeared to tick one second forward and two seconds back. Time wasn’t moving on. Leon felt like someone was playing a cruel trick on him but it was just his mind that was channelling the master illusionist.
Finally, it was time. He grabbed his coat and pulled on a woollen hat for some sort of quasi-disguise. He walked to the door, took one last look around the apartment and checked the note he left for Abby was visible on the table. He had written to tell her everything just in case he didn’t make it back. He didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
He stepped out of his apartment and walked down the road to the tube station. As usual, he checked the tube map just in case someone had decided to reshape the London transport system since the last time he used it.
Fifty minutes. He had fifty minutes to hold his nerve. Fifty minutes to get to Clapham Common. Fifty minutes until he had no hope of turning back. Fifty minutes before he left all that was familiar and stepped into the void.
Once more, he used the time to delve into his visceral self. To taunt himself with whys and wherefores, queries and concerns, questions that would never be answered.
Until he arrived, walking up the same steps he had the previous week, he felt like he was stepping back in time.
As soon as he left the sanctity of the station, everyone and everything was a suspect. He noticed the minutest details around him. It was as if his vision had been magnified, his senses heightened.
He walked past some people playing football, is he one of them, he thought to himself. The postman riding his bike across the park, was that him? The couple sitting on the bench, was the man looking at him?
He struggled to shake off the feeling of scrutiny. Eventually, after mentally accusing everyone, he found his spot. Suddenly, as the ducks waded across the pond, he felt strangely serene. He was back in control of his senses. For some reason, the bench felt safe.
And then, he waited.
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10 Downing Street, London
Vanessa sat at her desk willing the phone to ring, wanting to know what was happening with Leon and the meet. She kept checking her watch to see that the time hadn’t reached 3pm yet.
She tried to distract herself by delving into her email. Scanning it, she saw one from an unfamiliar source. She clicked it open. It simply read Yoga Bag.
What the hell did that mean? She thought to herself. She was convinced someone was messing with her until she looked beyond her desk to the cupboard next to the bathroom. Her yoga bag was lying there on the floor.
With everything that had gone on with Leon, she had completely forgotten to take it home after her yoga session yesterday.
She felt a chill invade her body.
She walked over to the bag slowly, unsure what to expect. She looked behind her to check if anyone was there. She knew she was alone. It was a strange thing to do. She wasn’t thinking clearly.
The bag lay there. It was completely innocuous but it was ultimately powerful. It gripped her like a vice. She was inches away from it but couldn’t move any closer.
What the hell is in that bag? The thought span round and round in her head like a Catherine Wheel, until finally, she built up the courage to look. A quick unzip displayed her gym clothes, she searched around inside for something, anything strange.
And there it was an envelope.
She pulled it out carefully. It was an unexplained envelope. The protocol was to take it directly to security. It was the rule ever since the series of envelopes containing Ricin were posted to US politicians a few years ago.
She knew what she had to do but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She felt compelled to open it.
Tugging at the fastening, it loosened softly, slowly until, eventually it opened entirely. Nothing happened. No explosion, no puff of powder, just a folded piece of paper.
She allowed herself a breath of relief. Pulling the note out, she fumbled it open. Her face dropped. There were few words.
It read: They know about you. They neutralised your contact. You need to disappear.
She pulled her phone out and dialled a number. It rang and rang. No answer. She redialled twice more. He always answered on the third ring, whatever happened. It was their rule in case of emergency. She tried again and again, nothing, no answer. She had to assume the worst that her contact who she had requested to spy on David had been found, he was dead, but killed by whom.
She didn’t wait to collect her things; she walked out of her office door, down the corridor checking behind her all the while. She reached the main reception area and then the private entrance, hurrying along. She made it out onto the street and walked at pace down to the main road.
Another glance behind, still no one following her, she thrust her arm up to hail a taxi. One pulled over and she hurried inside. The driver turned around and she instructed him to go north.
The taxi drove off and she did as she was told… she disappeared.
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Clapham Common, London
Leon waited and waited. He checked his watch, 3.05pm. The ducks continued to wade to and fro, creating patterns cascading across the surface of the pond.
He didn’t know whether to stay or go. He wished someone could tell him the right thing to do in this situation.
What if his contact was in trouble? Should he risk staying where he was?
He looked around him; he was all alone in this area of the park. What should he do?
Suddenly, he heard shuffling behind him; it was definitely footsteps coming across the grass. He heard twigs crack and dead leaves crumple. He was frozen. He couldn’t look. Closer and closer, the sound was almost upon him. He clenched his fists tight and squeezed his eyes closed.
In an instant, a hand was on his shoulder, he jumped at the contact and then…
Bang…
A loud noise echoed across the park. The shock forced his eyes open. He looked around him to see what the sound was. The hand had disappeared from his shoulder. He heard a groan.
Looking down, behind the bench, he saw a man lying on the ground. The front of his sandy coloured rain jacket was painting itself a crimson red.
He got up and knelt down by the man’s side.
He was trying to talk to Leon.
Leon got closer in so his ear was just above the man’s mouth.
“Pocket,” the man said. He was struggling to get the word out, “trouser pocket.”
Leon checked both sides and found something that felt like a packet of chewing gum. He pulled it out and saw what looked like a thumb drive in his hand. Quickly, he hastened it into his pocket.
“Who are you?” Leon asked.
The man was fading. There was barely any life left in him. Leon looked around to see if anyone was near. He was still alone.
“Who are you?” He asked again.
With his last breath, the man said: “Benson.” That was it, nothing more. Another second passed and he was gone.
At that moment, Leon realised where he was. Somewhere out there was a shooter and Leon was in range. He got up and he ran. He ran as fast as he could back past the couple on the bench, past the footballers and into the tube station. He got on the first tube he saw.
He didn’t have time to look behind him. He didn’t have time to check if he was being followed. Surveying the other passengers, he looked for anyone paying him undue attention, nothing. Everyone was getting on with their own lives. He remained on guard.
The tube pulled into a station. He read the sign, Clapham North. He was going the right way. Next would be Stockwell where he would change onto the Victoria line and then, hom
e. Fifty minutes…
The journey went by in a flash. He rushed out of Finsbury Park tube station, up the road and into his flat.
For some reason, the first thing he did was dispose of the note to Abby. He was safe for now. She didn’t need to know anything.
He then pulled out his phone and dialled Vanessa.
“Hello, Leon. What happened?”
“He was shot. Vanessa he was shot right by me. A man died.”
“Oh my god, are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m home. He gave me a thumb drive. Vanessa, he was shot. Someone shot him,” Leon couldn’t do anything other than repeat those words.
Vanessa tried to calm him.
“Leon, you have to see what’s on that drive. Go to your laptop and find out.”
The instruction seemed to calm him. Having a rational task shook him out of his malaise. He lifted the lid on his laptop and entered his password.
The screen flickered into life. He pulled the thumb drive out of his pocket, pulled the lid off and slotted it into an available USB port.
The machine whirred.
“What’s happening?” Vanessa asked.
“I’m just clicking to open it so I can see the files,” Leon replied.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit…It’s just a whole load of shapes. Squares and circles. What the hell is this?”
“It’s encrypted Leon. You’re going to need to find someone who can unlock it, how about Jennifer Hopwood?” Vanessa said.
“Are you crazy? I can’t ask my girlfriend’s mum to get involved in this. I haven’t even told Abby what’s going on.”
“You have to Leon, unless you know someone else who can help.” Vanessa responded.
“Shit,” Leon said again. He knew he had no option.
“Listen,” Vanessa said, breaking Leon’s focus.
“I have to go away for a bit. It’s not safe for me here.”
Leon was confused. “Vanessa, you can’t leave me to deal with all of this. What the hell are you doing?”
“I got a tip off. They know about my contact and they know about the job he was doing for me. He’s been killed. I have to disappear. I’ll call you when I’m settled ok?” she said about to hang up.
