LONDON ALERT

by Christopher Bartlett

  Not sure how to take that remark and wondering whether he was still being tested, Holt chose the safe middle ground.

  ‘I doubt whether I shall ever have the pleasure of finding out what’s underneath.’

  The astute answer apparently reassured Sir Charles that he was dealing with someone with his wits about him, for he immediately got down to business.

  ‘Ever since 7/7 we have tried to find ways to prevent such events from reoccurring in Britain, and particularly here in London. We have used the services of various expensive consultants in addition to our own people at Five, which is what we call MI5, and at Six – that’s MI6 – Special Branch, and in the other departments, but we still feel vulnerable. One well-known consultant maintains we will always be behind the curve, as we are always reacting to the last incident.’

  ‘I can see that,’ interjected Holt inanely. He had to at least say something.

  ‘After 9/11, the accent was on flying schools. After the shoe-bomber incident, everyone was having their shoes checked. After the plot to make bombs by mixing seemingly innocuous liquids actually on the aircraft, everyone had their toothpaste confiscated if it was more than 100 cc. All this, the expert said, was ridiculous, as terrorists would always think of something else. Anyway, replicating 9/11 should be impossible now passengers know they risk becoming flying bombs and would not comply with terrorists’ instructions, so why waste so much time on scenarios like that, he had said?’

  Sir Charles paused and looked at Holt intently, before continuing: ‘This special unit, Giraffe, was set up by me as a wild card operation to think outside the box. Of course, the departments I have just mentioned are all working on the problem and coming up with suggestions. However, they all have vested interests – by that I mean that their routine work and formal links tend to make them fixate on certain types of scenario. On the other hand, we who are in a way halfway between Five and Six – and that hopefully includes you – are free from those hang‑ups.’

  Was Sir Charles taking him for granted, or was it a well-honed technique to make him feel committed by letting him participate in the discussion as if he might already be one of them?

  ‘We think you are a rare bird and want you to put yourself in the terrorists’ shoes, thinking up outlandish scenarios they might use. You would be operating independently, with support from us, and reporting directly to me, though you would have a nominal boss with whom you would deal on a daily basis.

  ‘We have special authority allowing us to seek the necessary cooperation from the other security departments. Even so, we must maintain Chinese walls. You could be a great asset.’

  ‘Possibly,’ replied Holt, glad that he was not expected to do anything particularly dangerous.

  ‘How do you feel about it?’

  ‘That type of work,’ replied Holt, ‘requires freedom coupled with the stimulus from others. One might be looking for merely a couple of great ideas. Thousands of people must already be doing likewise. How would I be any different?’

  ‘You, Holt, would be different because of who you are, the great degree of independence you will be afforded, the resources at your disposal, and, not least, the conducive environment we will provide. Think of yourself as being part of an elite team and yet working as an individual, at times independently.’

  ‘What would it mean in practice?’

  ‘Here in London, you would be working out of Giraffe’s Farringdon bureau, though of course you would spend much of your time on your own outside, sometimes just wandering the streets and visiting notable places. Admittedly, it would be difficult to better – to use an unfortunate word – 9/11. The Twin Towers were the perfect target, and there are not so many like that.’

  Not knowing why he chose that moment, Holt asked a question that had been nagging him right from the outset.

  ‘Giraffe is an odd name. Why…?’

  ‘I ostensibly chose the name Giraffe to convey the idea that we could see over the walls that bounded the more formal departments and agencies. In reality, it was to make them subconsciously feel inferior by virtue of having to look up to us and, incidentally, make our people feel superior by virtue of looking down on them. Don’t quote me on that. If you do, your life won’t be worth living.’

  Here, for the first time in his life, was someone for whom Holt felt he could happily work. Sir Charles had sensed this, for he continued without using the conditional, as if Holt’s commitment to Giraffe were a done deal, which in turn meant Holt began falling under his spell; as a father figure, he outclassed his late father, who was no slouch.

  Sir Charles quickly brought him back to reality.

  ‘Some basic training is required to ensure you are physically fit and able to cope with difficult situations – not that we expect you to encounter any in your back-office role. Might come in useful, though, if someone tries to mug you for your mobile phone! Actually, the real point of it is to help you think on your feet. Reactions do not always have to be physical, but physical fitness helps one cope mentally.’

  ‘It sounds reasonable to me.’

  ‘Let me make one thing clear: while I do not want you to withhold anything you think terrorists might come up with, I want you to concentrate on dramatic scenarios, ranging from large-scale ones, like 9/11, to small-scale ones, since the impact on the public can be great in either case. The recent beheadings are an unfortunate example of the latter.’

  ‘What about the lone gunman trying to shoot the prime minister or the Queen on some special occasion, like Lee Harvey Oswald at Dallas?’

  ‘Other departments’ special units, such as the SAS and the SRR – that’s the even more secretive Special Reconnaissance Regiment – with actual theatre experience in Iraq and Afghanistan are already dealing with attacks such as might occur on great national occasions, royal weddings, state funerals, or coronations. Not that we expect a coronation anytime soon.’

  ‘I understand, but what about biological or nuclear threats?’

  ‘Pre-empting them through good intelligence, detection equipment at ports, and so on is how we try and deal with that. We have people specializing in that. Handling any incidents that do occur is essential as well.’

  ‘Put yourself in the bad people’s shoes. Be an angry young man. Think like you did at school when you came up with those silly jokes.’

  ‘But they were just for fun.’

  ‘It’s fun for some of those people.’

  Sir Charles, like the major, then went through the ritual of warning Holt about the negatives involved in working in the secret world. He would no longer be able to be frank with people, not even with his closest friends, family, or partners, and so on and so on.

  ‘It can produce a feeling of isolation and even exacerbate latent psychological problems. We do have our house psychiatrist, but the time he can allot to each individual is limited, especially as he has to prepare officers for physically dangerous, rather than technical, missions like yours. For your job, we need a neurotic with hang-ups. We put a lot of effort into finding you. I am not sure Blackwell, the in-house psychiatrist, will take to someone of your ilk!’

  ‘I am not sure I will take to him either, by the sound of it. I have heard some bad stories about psychiatrists.’

  ‘Then I suggest you steer clear of him, though he has to interview everyone for the record. A kind of health and safety thing – he’s a general practitioner as well as a psychiatrist.’

  ‘Thanks for warning me. Sounds as if you think I might well be joining Giraffe.’

  ‘I very much hope you do, but only if your heart is in it. You won’t be much use otherwise. Do you really want to join us? Though I have stressed the negatives, there would be many pluses.'

  From having repeatedly watched The Caine Mutiny, the film where the young ensign on his first posting has to choose between staying on his clapped-out minesweeper or accepting an easy ride on the admiral’s staff on a battleship or aircraft carrier, Holt knew that a good officer should be a
ble to make major decisions under pressure. Asking Sir Charles for time to consider would risk falling in his esteem. He decided to take the bull by the horns.

  ‘It sounds,’ he said unhesitatingly, ‘as though I might finally have found a way to use my talents productively. Yes, I would very much like to join Giraffe. I think I could make a worthwhile contribution.’

  ‘Good. I expected you would ask for time to think it over but am impressed to see you can think on your feet. Congratulations. Welcome to Giraffe!’

  Sir Charles got up from behind his desk, walked round to Holt, and shook his hand, smiling broadly.

  Holt felt a page in his life had, for better or worse, been turned.

  ‘What’s the next step?’ he asked.

  ‘You will nominally be in the hands of Peter at our Farringdon operating unit. Don’t ask him for personal details, his family name, or whether he’s married with children. Do not ask any of them, or me, personal questions. Besides security, that policy has some incidental advantages, not least eliminating time-wasting gossip, though our female agents don’t see it in that light. Some valuable women leave the service for that reason alone.’

  He pressed a button on his desk, and within a couple of minutes there was a knock at the door, and Cut‑Glass came in with a sheaf of papers.

  ‘Sandra, Jeremy is to become one of us.’

  Hardly disguising the effort required, Cut‑Glass proffered her congratulations, without demeaning herself by adding a platitude about how great it would be working together.

  She handed him the documents. The Official Secrets Act was on top.

  Chapter 5

  Not so Black and White

  Someone must have had had a word in his employer’s ear, for Holt was not required to give the usual one month’s notice. Admittedly, in brokerages and the like it was customary for anyone leaving to drop tools immediately and be escorted from the building to prevent them taking valuable information, such as client lists, with them.

  Even though it was short notice, the company arranged a farewell party for him, at which a number of the female employees, young and not so young, said they would sorely miss him, and Holt knew he would feel likewise, realizing he had crassly missed some open goals. Truth be told, he hadn’t scored at all and had made only a few attempts at goal, whereupon others had headed in the ball.

  The drawback so many had mentioned of working for the service immediately became apparent when he realized he could only give his erstwhile colleagues the vaguest idea of what he would be doing. ‘I’ve been told it’s what I make of it,’ was a good way to halt speculation. Anyway, he was glad to be leaving with the thought that some would miss him. That said, not a few had reason to be grateful for his discretion, as working in IT, he knew many of their secrets.

  Holt only had the weekend before assuming his new position. He would have liked to have asked for a week off to shoot off to some sunny place to recharge his batteries but had not dared ask.

  Farringdon, not far from the City, was not a part of London that he usually frequented, other than going to the odd restaurant, and as he made his way to Giraffe from the station he was surprised at the number of architects’ and interior designers’ offices he passed. The Giraffe bureau looked like just another one, which was particularly good cover, as no one would be surprised to see models of central London used to study potential terrorist attacks.

  Quite unlike Cut-Glass back at Sackville Street, the receptionist was in her mid-thirties and oozed smiles. Even before Holt had slithered to a halt on the shiny white flooring befitting a trendy architect’s office, she had already spouted ‘Jeremy to see Peter. Am I correct?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I think Peter is expecting me.’

  ‘I’ll let him know. Please wait over there,’ she said, pointing in the direction of a row of uncomfortable trendy sofas off to her right.

  He was still taking stock of his surroundings when the lift doors opened and out came a slim man with deep-set eyes. He must have been in his late forties, but he looked somewhat worn.

  ‘I’m Peter. I’m afraid I’m in the middle of a meeting right now, so I’ll just show you to your office, where you can relax. We’ll leave the introductions for later. Something big has just come up. Not in the James Bond sense unfortunately, so I’ll have to get right back and stuck in.’

  ‘Sounds exciting.’

  ‘I wish it were. To be truthful, this business is something like being an airline pilot – looks glamorous but actually involves days of routine and then the occasional mad crisis.’

  He showed Holt to his allotted office, which would, on Sir Charles’s orders, be his inviolable domain, except when the security people visited.

  ‘You’re a lucky man, Jeremy. Sir Charles insisted you have your own room. Most of us here have to make do with shared facilities. Some will be envious, so assuage their feelings by saying you have special confidential documents that must always be at your fingertips.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Acquaint yourself with the computer, which should be easy considering your IT background. I should be through in an hour, and we’ll go for lunch. Dial one-nine-nine on the phone if you need a pee.’

  Holt held out until they got to the pub, for having someone, possibly female, show him the way and standing outside would have been just too embarrassing.

  Lunch was a typical one for a London pub – neither good nor bad. Conversation, limited to generalities unconnected with work, was pleasant enough. On their way back to Giraffe, with other people out of earshot, Peter opened up a little and talked about the office in general terms. He could have been describing any London office, so he was not giving anything away. He would be introducing Holt to the others. His meeting with Celia, who would be his partner when needed, would have to wait until the next day, as she was accompanying a VIP to some function.

  ‘Sir Charles and I recruited her not only for her intelligence and probity but also for her what can only be described as guileless, virginal looks. When necessary, she will facilitate your reconnoitring by slipping into the role of girlfriend and, should circumstances demand, blushing bride.’

  ‘You’re having me on.’

  ‘Quite the contrary. She will be useful even in the UK, to stop you getting picked up by the plods when taking photos. Of course, we can always get you released from police custody with a phone call from on high, but the less we have to do with the regular force, the better.’

  ‘I can’t believe my luck having a girl like that by my side.’

  ‘Let me make one thing clear. There will be no hanky‑panky, you understand?’

  Made to feel like a schoolboy by the father whose daughter he is taking to the cinema for the first time, Holt promised he would behave honourably.

  Once back at the bureau, Peter introduced Holt to the rest of the staff, with a brief explanation regarding their various specialities, such as firearms, explosives, dirty bombs, profiling, interrogation, and so on.

  With all the introductions apart from those to Celia and the in‑house doctor-cum-psychiatrist completed, Peter left Holt in the company of two colleagues, who would brief him on their side of the work and show him some of the special features of the office. Laid-back types, they made Holt feel at home. When he said he could not wait to see his female partner after hearing so much about her, they raised their eyebrows and said she belonged to the office as a whole, and her occasional assignment to him should not be misconstrued.

  ‘We call her Miss Innocent, and some of us – the men – are placing bets on when she will lose her virginity.’

  ‘How will you know when she does?’ asked Holt.

  ‘It will be written all over that angelic face of hers. She’ll have a glow about her and look fulfilled, if you know what I mean – more at one with herself. One can sense these things,’ continued Mike, the taller one of the two, with the other nodding knowledgeably and adding, ‘You cannot put it into words, but you know.’
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  Were they all, including even Peter, having him on? She was probably nothing special, and this was simply a trick they played on all new boys. Her all-too-convenient absence was probably part of the con – the type of prank Holt himself would think up.

  ‘She’s probably,’ said Mike, ‘accompanying a randy old cabinet minister at some garden party to prevent him getting into trouble and being blackmailed.’

  ‘Apart from Celia,’ replied Holt, ‘the only person I have not met is the psychiatrist. B something. What’s he like?’

  The two of them scowled.

  ‘Name’s Blackwell. Tricky bastard,’ replied Mike.

  ‘Sticks his nose in everyone’s business – especially where sex is concerned,’ added the other. ‘Gets you to reveal your sex life or that of colleagues. He exploits the info while finding it titillating. Watch out. No one has succeeded in scoring a point over him, and anyone who did would probably live to regret it. We call him the Snake. Maybe you should try being the mongoose, though I don’t give much for your chances.’

  Holt returned to his tiny apartment that night feeling the future looked bright. His qualms about working in the secret world had been assuaged by his colleagues having trusted him enough to confide in him about the Snake. All was not so black and white.

  Chapter 6

  Miss Innocent and Dr Blackwell

  The next morning dragged, and it was not until eleven thirty that Peter finally called him to his office

  ‘Celia’s here with me now, Jeremy. Come right away. She came back for a few minutes specially to see you. She’s still on a job, so don’t dawdle.’

  Holt was at his boss’s door along the corridor in moments. He knocked and, on being told to come in, opened the door and stepped inside with a poker face, steeling himself so as not to hurt the poor woman by looking disappointed.