I Can See You: Autistic British Detective: Jonathan Roper Investigates Book 2

by Michael Leese

  28

  GCHQ was designed with an open plan area containing cubicles broken up by dividers. This was to stop the space feeling overwhelming and create a basic sense of privacy for the staff. Unsurprisingly, there were huge numbers of computer screens being studied night and day. It made the need for air conditioning totally essential. Opening a window was not really an option.

  Naturally, there were some areas where the open plan approach was less in evidence. From time to time everyone needed access to some privacy, so rooms were set aside for that. The security team especially tended to favour out of the way spaces when they could.

  One of these was currently occupied by the head of security, Alan Smith, a man whose expression made him look as though he was stuck somewhere between anger and disappointment. A thin man, in his mid-50’s, colleagues joked that his hair was suspiciously dark and suspected he was guilty of using a hair dye. If this was true, his little vanity sat at odds with his famously fastidious habits. It was even claimed he ate sandwiches with a knife and fork.

  Sitting opposite him was his deputy, Georgina Moore, who could not have been more unlike her boss. Today she had a pink fringe in her straw blonde hair. Normally impassive, Smith had once made the mistake of narrowing his eyes when she had first turned blonde. After that she had made a habit of adding new colours at every opportunity. She was only 25 years old, but had risen fast because of her extraordinary expertise with surveillance technology. If there were candidates for the real-life version of Q - the James Bond Quartermaster - then she would have made the final list of candidates.

  She found Smith deeply irritating and suspected the feeling was reciprocated. But they worked together well enough, neither willing to sacrifice their work over petty relationship issues, but never missing the chance to engage in a little jousting. Smith’s face had remained impassive as he listened to Roper’s conversation with Hooley.

  Internal security had been stepped up in recent times, making his job more important. It wasn’t that they had any particular problems, but the extraordinary breach revealed when a US defense contractor dumped sensitive material on to the internet had made every intelligence service in the world sit-up. After initially laughing at the Americans the penny dropped - this could happen to us.

  In the light of the new protocols, Roper had been upgraded to active targeting after he suddenly appeared to lose his way. With no obvious explanation for what was happening, the worry was that he might have been “compromised” in some way. And in the last few hours they had been ordered to include the Scotland Yard man Brian Hooley. There was a big fuss going on.

  Smith looked at his younger colleague. Had he let his feelings show it was likely he would be sneering. He was especially drawn to her eyes - they seemed to be very blue today and he wondered if she was using coloured contact lenses. He shrugged. He knew that his approval, or disapproval, meant nothing. She had been marked for promotion by people well above his pay grade so he put the distraction out of his mind. He leaned forward and tapped the compact speaker she had placed on the desk between them.

  As she had anticipated he was impressed with the sound quality. “Excellent clarity,” he said. He was always impressed with how good modern speakers were and she supposed it had something to do with his growing up in the days of hi-fi and speakers the size of dustbins.

  The thought amused her and she was about to say something when he got in first. “You obviously chose the right table to bug. I presume they always like to sit in the same place?”

  “Yeah, they do. But I don’t like to take chances so I bugged every table in the place. Why risk missing out?”

  She noticed a slight tic over his right eye and correctly interpreted the coming question. Reaching into a bag on her lap she placed what looked like a lump of well chewed gum on the desk. She’d been looking forward to this bit and for good measure she prodded at it, making it spread over the desk. This time Smith could not hide his horror. She knew he had a phobia about germs so this would really upset him.

  Drawing it out as long as she dared - he might be a knob-head but he wasn’t a stupid knob-head - she said. “Looks exactly like a lump of chewing gum, right? Most of the time no one looks at the underside of a table, but say staff were doing a deep clean, this is what they would see. No one likes to handle someone else’s used gum, so they just get rid of it as quickly as they can. I’m not saying it would baffle Mossad, but a restaurant in Cheltenham? We should be fine. Once we’re done I will get the stuff retrieved. Even if someone found it, it’s not as if it says ‘Property of GCHQ. Please return.’”

  A slight release of tension in his shoulders told her that her boss went along with what she was saying, even if there would be no chance of a pat on the back. They didn’t play that well together.

  She carried on with her explanation. “We used a blue-tooth signal to activate the monitor once they sat down. It can transmit constantly since we can also recharge the battery through the active signal.

  “Retrieving the information is much easier because we can use the other bugs as relays so our man just needed to get within forty metres of the restaurant to pick everything up. I was outside last night and there was nothing untoward said, unless they are using some type of code we have never come across before. I wanted you to hear it today just in case you picked up on something I missed.”

  Smith shook his head. “All sounds perfectly innocent to me. Although I was surprised to hear Roper talking about a girlfriend. I always thought that would prove beyond him. I suppose we need to remind ourselves that he is capable of many surprises.”

  Despite herself, Moore agreed with him. “Judging by the way he described things I think the girlfriend was a bit of a surprise to him as well. But yeah, I put her on my list and we’re doing a full security shake-down. Don’t hold your breath, she looks clean.”

  Smith didn’t respond. He steepled his hands and made a face that she found especially annoying. She called it his ‘look at me, I’m thinking,’ expression. Oblivious to her thoughts he asked. “Have you run this through the artificial intelligence programme yet?”

  She’d expected the question and had her answer. “I have and it hasn’t come up with anything. But even if it had I would have needed serious convincing. Everything we’ve seen about Roper suggests he is exactly what he seems: a brilliant analyst and a complicated man to get to know. Difficult company.”

  She was regretting her comments the moment she finished talking. Smith let the brief triumph show with a little smirk. Moore knew she had just been marked down for allowing her response to be shaped by her view of Roper the man. You could never afford to let your guard down with this man.

  Moore couldn’t stop herself wondering if he had deliberately blindsided her with that annoying facial expression. He obviously knew she didn’t like it. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on her mistake, as he was asking her about her arrangements to monitor the pair in the flat they shared and the bugging of Hooley’s Pimlico flat.

  “It’s in hand but it will take a couple of days.” the reply terse enough to hint at rudeness.

  “That will have to do,” said Smith. He did such a convincing job of looking like he meant it that Moore assumed he had to be faking. He went on. “I do have some news for you. The Home Secretary finally agreed to us listening in on Julie Mayweather’s phone and the plod who has stepped up as the replacement for Brian Hooley. There was some concern at your initial request but I managed to persuade them the stakes were high enough to warrant the measure.”

  Moore had to clamp her jaw shut. The ‘bastard’ had clearly presented it as all her idea, just in case it was knocked back. She had thought it was being presented as a joint initiative: in fact, he should have taken full responsibility, he was the boss. Instead it sounded like he had done a lot of brown nosing in order to make himself look good.

  29

  Julie Mayweather was genuinely shocked as she was informed about the surveillance equipme
nt that had been dug out of Tom Bennett’s office in Leatherhead. His home in Clapham was currently being inspected and the expectation was that more would be found there.

  “Who found this stuff? I thought it had been given the all clear.”

  DI Cleverly looked unsure if he was the recipient of a dressing down or his boss was simply telling it like it was. The Special Investigations Unit had missed it altogether. They had only found out when they had been called by a special liaison team at MI5. The grey area between policing and domestic intelligence had led to too many misunderstandings. The liaison team had been set up to bridge the gap and keep everyone informed. It usually worked.

  He had spent a frustrating afternoon trying to get information out of the liaison team and it had been heavy going. He had finally made headway when he offered to share every scrap of evidence about the four victims. It gave him just enough leverage.

  He said. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that they started out with a ‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you’ attitude, but I have managed to get a bit more from them. But this is where it gets interesting.

  “It seems as though the military agency Tom Bennett dealt with decided to double check that his murder wasn’t a cover for some sort of industrial espionage. And before you ask, they’re not going to go into what was worrying them. It seems they are not being as open as I first thought.

  “We only find out the truth when something goes wrong. Talk about ‘my enemy is my friend’, this lot do your head in. If you tell them the time they check their watches.

  “It seems that ‘persons unknown’ - he mimed quote marks around the words - sent a couple of experts to the work place and they are the ones who spotted this stuff.

  “They really didn’t want to tell me about what they found but I had a shouting match and explained that if it was deemed they were interfering in a murder investigation but in the interests of the country I was willing to share information.

  “We’re apparently talking miniaturised cameras the size of a fly and listening gear no bigger than a pinhead. It’s why we never spotted anything. I know we weren’t looking, but even if we had I doubt we would have seen it.”

  Mayweather had barely moved throughout the briefing. She paused to make some notes, then sat back.

  “This is turning into a national security matter? I suppose we might have suspected something because of the nature of Bennett’s work but this is like something out of a Le Carre novel. Well, the big question is; who put the bugs there in the first place? Have our friends in security got any thoughts about that?”

  Cleverly said. “I asked them exactly that. They said there was a real concern about it because only ourselves, the Americans and the Israelis, are supposed to have access to equipment as sophisticated as this. They let slip this was going to cause an almighty row.

  “When I asked if that meant we, as in some branch of our own security services, could have been responsible I got the clear impression they really didn’t know. I learned this requires very specialised manufacturing skills. You can’t just knock it up in any old factory, even if you had the technical specs. You need specialised tools, custom made parts and high-level engineering skills to put it all together. They’ve promised me an answer in the next 48 hours.”

  Mayweather leaned back in her seat. “I may be able to get some more information. I’ve fixed a meeting with the head of MI5. I thought I might need a briefing about what these two companies are involved; seems I was right to wonder.

  She was about to say more when her mobile went off. She looked at the screen, saw who it was, apologised to Cleverly and took the call. She stepped across to the far side of the room as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  Phone call over she clicked the red off icon, stared at the device for a moment as if willing it to ring again and then looked at the DI.

  “You and I need to be in Downing Street in the next twenty minutes.”

  *

  The meeting lasted a little over half-an-hour. No politicians were present although it was made clear that the Prime Minister, Home Secretary and Foreign Secretary were in the loop. As well as the head of the Civil Service, the spy-chief Jennifer Cameron, was present.

  The meeting was told that the multiple murders were being regarded as potential threats to national security because of the military equipment made by the companies they worked for. Mayweather waited to see if Cameron would talk about the discovery of high-tech surveillance kit in the boardroom, and private office, at Bennett’s company, but the woman kept silent, leaving it to the police officer.

  It broke up rapidly as all concerned accepted there were more questions than answers. On their way out, Cameron held Mayweather back and promised to talk to her tomorrow. “I don’t have a smoking gun for you, but there are things you need to know. They’ll explain why everyone is so worried that our secrets have been compromised.”

  As she and Cleverly made their return to Victoria she reflected the meeting had gone better than it had looked on first appearance. Mayweather had fought her corner effectively. She pointed out that suddenly taking the Special Investigations Unit off the case could be counter-productive by drawing attention to the change. All her team had signed the Official Secrets Act, and she also offered to restrict those with full access to as few people as possible.

  “Everyone who works for my unit has considerable investigative experience before they are considered for a place. They are all used to working with highly sensitive material and understand that sometimes there is a good need to operate on a need-to-know basis.”

  When this idea was supported by MI5, the relief on the Cabinet Secretary’s face was tangible. He had been experiencing a private nightmare in which he imagined that the elite Scotland Yard team and the elite spy chasers would end up in some sort of bitter power struggle for control, which would only lead to recriminations and leaks to the media.

  With the car making minimal progress in London’s interminable traffic Mayweather turned to the DI; something had been bothering her and she had just realised what it was. She said. “I was looking at Cameron whilst I talked about the surveillance equipment. Even though she obviously knew about it, she still looked shocked, and that is quite telling. It suggests she didn’t authorise it’s use.”

  Cleverly’s face darkened as he absorbed the idea. “If you’re right that might suggest there is some sort of rogue operation taking place.” He shook his head. “This could turn out to be a can of worms. I’ve never had any direct dealings with the security services myself, but mates who have say it can be a nightmare.”

  “I’m afraid that is exactly what I’m thinking,” said Mayweather. “I think we need to work on the assumption that we will only receive information that MI5 thinks we need to have, rather than what we really need.”

  She gazed out of the window as the car inched its way along the road. She could have asked the driver to switch the blue lights on, but she was a stickler for only using those in a genuine emergency: a policy she was regretting. She was itching to get back to the office but in the meantime, she was going to have to get on with it as best she could.

  She turned back to Cleverly. “Can you get someone to call Bennett’s finance chief? Tell him I would very much appreciate it if Mr. Wilson could come into our office to go over some issues that have been raised. I want to apply some pressure to him because he may well know more about what Bennett was up to than he’s letting on.”

  As her deputy was murmuring into his phone the congestion eased enough for the car to get above walking pace. She sighed. There was a lot to like about London, but travelling around was a pain.

  30

  Fred Wilson had been ‘treated’ to a blast of ‘blues and twos’ as the driver bringing him from Leatherhead had switched on his lights and siren for the last leg of the journey into Victoria. Some people love the experience, some people hate it; Wilson clearly fell into the latter category. It had taken him
a good five minutes to settle after being given a cup of coffee and left in the interview room. Julie Mayweather had guessed right. She knew that once he had calmed down he would be in the right mood to share any scraps of information he might have been holding back.

  Mayweather didn’t normally like leaning on people, but she was sure he knew more than he was letting on. She wanted him to feel the heat of the fire. Now she was standing looking in through the two-way mirror. The finance chief was shifting restlessly in his seat, his large frame meaning he couldn’t get as comfortable as he would have liked. Again, this was deliberate. Cleverly had a better chair which would be handed over once they were ready to do the interview.

  Deciding now was the time, she walked in with the DI behind her. The accountant jumped to his feet looking flustered but before he could say anything he was treated to Mayweather’s biggest smile. “Thank you so much for coming here at such short notice. Sorry for keeping you waiting, partly that was because I remembered how useless the chairs are in here. DI Cleverly here has found something a little more suitable for a man of your size.”

  Cleverly placed the chair within easy reach of Wilson, who was clearly pleased at having something he could sit on without wondering if it would buckle under his weight. Small advantages could often prove crucial in extracting information from people. She doubted that he would lie to her directly, but might feel conflicted over revealing any confidential information.

  She led the interview cautiously, going over previous ground and being careful to thank the accountant for the help he had given them so far. After about five minutes of questions on general finance issues she could see he was relaxing. He’d gone from worrying that he was a suspect to offering insights into the company and Bennett the man.