The Magpie Trap: A Novel

by AJ Kirby

  Security

  Already, it seemed that Charlie Wade, the managing director of Edison’s Printers, believed he had found a kindred spirit in Jim Hunter.

  ‘You have to get up early in the morning to get past us, eh?’ said Wade, attempting, in the smarmy boss-like way of his to ingratiate himself with some of the lower echelons of his staff. Hunter noticed that behind Wade’s back, Callum Burr was actually sneering. He’d been the one penciled in to work the early shift, not Hunter and now Wade. What were they doing invading his privacy?

  ‘No honestly; I’m very pleased that you alerted us to the problem with the printer,’ continued Wade, as though someone had actually objected to his point. ‘Time was when some people might have thought about not reporting the fault.’

  If it were possible, Burr sneered even more obviously now; he was obviously taking Wade’s comment about ‘some people’ as a personal criticism.

  ‘Thank you, sir. Wasn’t really anything else I could have done,’ said Hunter. ‘And anyway, it was Mick Stephenson that made the call.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Wade, wheeling round to face the men. ‘But it was you that chose to come up to my office in the panopticon and inform me of that fact. Otherwise it would have simply got brushed under the carpet like everything else seems to around here.’

  This time he gave Burr a meaningful glance which Burr refused to return. There was obviously some ‘previous’ between the two of them. Already, Hunter had noticed that most of the other employees on site were petrified to even trade a ‘good morning’ with Mr. Wade, but Jim was a different matter; he bowed to nobody.

  That windswept Friday morning, Jim could tell that something else was weighing heavily on his boss’s mind, but he knew that he could not ask Mr. Wade outright; he knew he had to let him steer the conversation in his own way.

  ‘What is security?” Wade ruminated, as if chewing on a particularly interesting piece of meat. ‘By definition, it is being free from danger; free from worry about attack, intrusion or burglary.’

  Burr raised his eyes to the ceiling in an exaggerated show of his true feelings towards Wade. Hunter chose to try to engage the man in conversation: ‘I’d agree, sir, that security could be defined in such a way; however it is such a wide-ranging term that there’s a lot more in there too.’

  ‘I asked you to call me Charlie, didn’t I?’ asked Wade, looking a little confused. Like most people in powerful positions, he seemed to have a tendency to forget exactly which of his underlings he’d said what to. ‘Anyway, what with the debates over the situation in the Middle East, terrorist attacks, and all of the atrocities which we’re threatened with on a daily basis today, security has become a question of national interest and global importance.’

  Burr slid further down into his seat and started to steal surreptitious glances at the pack pages of his Daily Record. He still took a Scottish newspaper after - what? – twenty-odd years of living across the border.

  ‘But Jim,’ continued Wade, ‘I read a pamphlet I was handed in Leeds at the weekend when I took the wife shopping. A bloke with dreadlocks handed it to me right outside Harvey Nicholls: I can’t believe they didn’t move him on. Anyway, sorry Jim, that’s beside the point. His leaflet really piqued my interest. There was one sentence in particular that has stuck with me. It read: “security is always an excuse for the worst moral crimes…’”

  Mr. Wade crossed his arms and looked directly at Jim, in expectation of an informed response from the ex-policeman.

  ‘Very interesting sir. I believe that, to some extent, such an argument is correct. Look at any country in some kind of crisis. The government always brings in tough measures which look as though they are to counter-act a threat from outside, when in reality, the fact is that they are also looking to assert some more control within.’

  Jim stroked his chin nervously; what he had just said was almost blasphemous; it was against the security guard or policeman’s credo of control.

  ‘Exactly; you’ve hit the nail on the head there. The current political climate is making me incredibly nervous. I used to be a Labour man in my youth. Security is supposed to be about allowing the people freedom, however the state is not interested in freedoms, it’s interested in restriction. The concept of security is in fact a contradictory idea. One person’s security is another’s restriction.’

  Mr. Wade grinned at Jim, as though he was taking a father’s pride at the idea he had just produced.

  ‘But we obviously have to have security,’ he continued. ‘Because human nature is flawed; take this place; we obviously have to protect against opportunist robbery, planned heists and staff theft. We put in new technologies to make things better, more controlled; we manage physical and logical security. We don’t allow people that opportunity; that temptation.’

  ‘You’re right; absolutely, but what we’re all creating is a vicious circle where we’re all petrified that the other is plotting to rob us, to bomb us, or whatever. Look at the gated communities in America. Britain’s going to be like that soon; we’ve lost that trust in human nature. We’ve all become cynical,’ said Hunter.

  Mr. Wade shook his head in disappointment at the conclusion his argument had reached, before continuing: ‘Security’s really playing on my mind at the moment Jim, as you’ve probably guessed. The audits of our procedures are due to start soon, and they are probably going to recommend even more stringent measures. I know the technological advances are great, but what are we losing? What have we already lost?’

  ‘I can’t really answer that, sir. What I can do is try to set your mind at rest. We have no choice in the matter. What we can do is ensure that we use technology to serve our needs, and not simply install it for technology’s sake. Look at what we already have; Stephenson told me about the new Digital Recording software which provides us with instant access to images and recordings. Technology helps us with these systems; the security guard no longer has to physically visit the scene, risking assault. We can also prove innocence. Our door entry systems can produce audit trails, roll call lists and timekeeping records; if you’re innocent you have nothing to hide,’ he said, only half-believing what was coming out of his own mouth.

  ‘Ah, but are you only saying all that because you’re talking to me? Yes there’s the argument that modern business would be back in the Stone Age without mobile phones, computers and internet access. But isn’t it all a self-fulfilling prophecy? The more intruder-proof a website becomes, for example, don’t the hackers see it as a target: a challenge? Aren’t we just setting up hoops which they can jump through?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, sir,’ Jim agreed, as if on cue.

  ‘What I’m worried about with all of these audits coming up is that we will be relying too much on technology, and not upon people like you, Jim; people who have experience, who know human nature and who can interpret and analyse situations with heart as well as your head.’

  Mr. Ward flashed a smile at Jim Hunter and began ambling back to the panopticon, followed by Callum Burr, who was required to provide the secondary identification at each of the doors en route.

  Returning to the Security Lodge, Callum Burr flashed a mean little smile at Hunter. ‘He’s a rare one, that Wade, isn’t he? A regular philosopher when you get him wound-up.’

  ‘He seems all right,’ muttered Hunter. He could do without getting into another argument with Callum Burr before the end of his first day.

  ‘Why did you tell him about the problem with the printer?’ asked Burr.

  Hunter narrowed his eyes. ‘I had no choice. From now, everything security-related that happens on site is my responsibility.’

  ‘Well; what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I’m going to start making some polite enquiries. Starting with you, Callum, if that’s all right? From what I’ve heard from the specialist engineer, altering the codes on the Precisioner is not something that just anybody can do. Nor can it be done by mistake.’

  ‘You
think someone inside the plant might have something to do with it?’

  ‘Who else could it be?’ asked Hunter. ‘Usually, the simplest explanation turns out to be the correct one.’

  ‘But why? Why would someone mess about with the code?’ said Burr. His face was turning red again and he seemed slightly out of breath. ‘What would they possibly hope to achieve by doing that?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I intend to find out,’ said Hunter.

  Presentation Skills

  Mark sat waiting outside the EyeSpy offices in his faithful van. The offices were situated in an unpretentious industrial estate in Beeston. The almost too-bright red-brick and sandstone of the place looked almost incongruous alongside the other buildings in situ, which were typically roller-shutter door units whose frontages looked like gaping mouths. The EyeSpy car park was surrounded by the ubiquitous CCTV cameras, standing like sentries upon their many poles. Granted, Beeston had a reputation as a rough area, but the cameras here looked like overkill; like using a steamroller to crack a nut.

  A sleek black company car screeched into the car park and narrowly avoided Mark’s wing-mirror as it pulled haphazardly into the next space. Danny Morris poured himself out of the car door; tie askew, bed-head hair, clearly worse for wear.

  Mark sighed deeply. He liked Danny, but knew that he walked a fine-line between brilliance and unreliability; he had an uncanny knack of digging himself into holes from which he would then have to ever-more-creatively scramble out. Mark also noted the twitched blinds of boss Martin Thomas’s eyrie-like office. Danny was being watched, and closely.

  ‘Morning Sparky,’ grinned Danny, the brave face he was putting on the events of the last twenty-four hours looking more like a grimace. ‘Ready to do battle with some new unsuspecting victims, cock?’

  A waft of stale booze and mints assaulted Mark’s senses as Danny moved closer.

  ‘Erm, Danny, before our guests arrive, don’t you think you should do something about that breath of yours. Had a few last night eh? And what’s with the fake tan?’

  Danny pulled a catering size pack of Uncle Joe’s mintballs from his briefcase and stuffed a couple into his mouth.

  ‘Look mate, I’ll be at the front of the room, giving them a PowerPoint presentation, they’re not going to smell my breath from there are they? And I’ve done this so many times before I could do it drunk anyway, you know how it is Mark, these security industry people; no brain-cells between them.’

  The meeting room was set up in the nick of time before the arrival of their guests; a six-pack of executives from a local brewery who were looking to improve their on-site security and also staff productivity levels by introducing an integrated surveillance and access control solution. They all looked as though they may have sampled just a little bit too much of their own produce.

  After initial meeting and greeting, Danny moved to the front of the meeting room, his stage for his performance, and Mark waited in the wings to prompt. Mark could see that Danny had undergone a Superman-style transformation in the work toilets, and there was now no sign of his disheveled earlier state; he now dripped confidence from every pore.

  ‘Blue-chip businesses like yourselves which choose EyeSpy today, know that they are future-proofing their business by bringing us in as the solution provider,’ Danny began, his voice betraying none of the abuse he had inflicted upon it the previous night.

  With each passing slide on the projector, he confidently upped the jargon-ante in order to both impress and confuse his prey. Mark struggled to recognize the company he worked for in the one described by Danny.

  ‘EyeSpy was formed in 1984; that seminal year (ha, ha, ha). We rode on the crest of the wave of the huge developments in the burglar alarm industry for most of that decade. As you probably know, the eighties were when burglar alarms went global - for houses, small businesses, everywhere. Then came the proliferation of CCTV. These are now product areas which have nowhere else to develop in this country; look around you, there’s almost too many cameras. That is why a few years back, senior management within our company began to look at some of the extras, the added-value services which we could add to our systems. We looked at the rise of cameras systems which were capable of being run across networks, instead of having to do the usual costly and disruptive cabling of a site. We trained up our engineers to be as IT literate as they were security experts, well before other companies in the industry did this.’

  Mark was woken from his near-comatose condition as he realised that Danny was gesticulating across at him as if to prove his point about the engineering staff. Although he was hunched in the shadows, Mark nervously shifted in his seat, aware all eyes had turned to him.

  Danny, thankfully put him out of his misery by continuing.

  ‘We installed the first such system at the major money manufacturing plant, Edison’s Printers. Their system works by relaying and storing camera images across their existing computer network, allowing management access to images as and when they are needed by simply visiting a secure website; it’s as simple as an email!

  The reason why such configurations, working in conjunction with intruder alarm and access control systems, are so important to the overall running of your business is twofold. Our security system will secure your premises, protecting stock and assets, but it will also benefit you because it can control employee behaviour. The system can affect productivity and output because it can record the movement of said employees, where they are at certain times, what time they access the building for work in the morning, and when they leave at night. It takes away the worry about the human-element of your business; clocking in and out, being watched everywhere they go, and even what parts of a building they enter becomes so second nature to them that they become a more compliant workforce.’

  Mark glanced across at the audience. Danny had them in the palm of his hand; Mark noted real interest in their faces. Instead of being slumped in their chairs, they were now leaning forward and hanging on the speaker’s every word.

  ‘Of course, we need to stress to the employees that we are doing this for their benefit. We need to stress personal safety, care and respect for their rights, whilst at the same time we are taking away their freedom and choice. That might sound all very ‘big brother’ to you, but the amount of managers I see that want more control over their employees is unbelievable, and in the present climate, we can justify such tight surveillance and restrictions on personal freedom with the argument that security is of paramount importance. I see you nodding your heads in agreement. Well, let me show you what I propose for your site…’

  Mark was almost overwhelmed by this master-class in the art of selling by Danny. He had instantly transformed his audience into ‘nodding dogs’ who agreed with each stage of his argument. What they didn’t know was that they were being railroaded to a junction at which point there was no way they could refuse. Danny had dulled the lights and therefore his fake tan gave off a radioactive glow, but that seemed to hypnotise his prey even deeper into his thrall. Mark watched in admiration as Danny outlined the benefits and inner-workings of an incredibly expensive system for the men’s site.

  And then Danny’s phone rang. Embarrassed, he fished the offending item out of his pocket and quickly glanced at the screen. Then he froze. His face drained of all colour; even his fake tan, it seemed was shocked by the number which came up on screen.

  ‘I’m sorry guys,’ he breathed, ‘I’m going to have to take this call. Mark’ll look after you…’

  With that he dashed out of the room, scattering his pile of meeting notes onto the floor. The door slammed behind him with some finality. All eyes turned to Mark once more as though asking him: What is the meaning of this rude interruption?

  He heard the sly comments from a couple of the suited men.

  ‘Who are these people to treat us like this?’

  ‘You can’t behave like that in a business meeting.’

  ‘Never seen owt like it in all me yea
rs.’

  ‘This lot couldn’t arrange a piss-up in our brewery.’

  ‘Where’s he gone, the little twat? Are we not important enough for him?’

  ‘He’ll be back in a minute,’ muttered Mark, sensing the atmosphere in the room starting to become decidedly gloomy. Without the presence of a ringmaster, the place was becoming a real circus. It seemed that Danny’s impromptu bad behaviour had uncorked the bad behaviour in all of them.

  Mark’s feet described the same route through the room and to the door where he stared through the semi-frosted glass and tried to locate his colleague. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the reception area.

  Oh shit! Where’s he gone? It would be too much like the Danny of recent weeks to just up and leave in the middle of a meeting like this and leave me to pick up the pieces. It would be too much like him to behave so crazily!

  ‘So where is he then?’ asked the brewery boss, who sounded as though he was running out of patience. His meaty arms were crossed against his bulging belly and he leaned back into his seat, oozing arrogance.

  ‘I’ll try his mobile,’ stuttered Mark.

  ‘He’s on his mobile,’ shouted back a couple of the men in unison.

  ‘Okay then, he’s gone to get the sandwiches,’ said Mark, thinking on his feet.

  ‘Ah. In the middle of his presentation, he decided to high-tail it out of here and get the sandwich order. Is that what passes for normal behaviour here, is it? Could you not have done that? Or are you here to be the scenery?’

  ‘I’m… I’m,’ Mark stuttered. In truth, he couldn’t think why he was there. He would have been better off trying to discover why a system had behaved in such a way. He would have been better off working on a camera. He tried to play for time. He picked up the phone and called through to Paula, the receptionist.

  ‘Are the bacon sandwiches here for the meeting yet?’ he asked. He nodded and listened to Paula’s answer, then spoke in a harsh whisper. ‘We need the sandwiches in here as quickly as possible. Danny’s… Something’s happened.’