ThornScope_Federation of Europe

by KC McLaren

  Jonathan fumbled with the safety catch and turned it off then aimed again. He looked up, his attention drawn to the man’s loud noises. Oh, came his first thoughts and watched in surprise as Sara changed her position, grabbed held of her attacker by the hair and smashed his head onto the polished stone floor. The attacker no longer squealed.

  Jonathan looked on. Wow, no need for a knight in shiny armour then. He lowered the gun and put it into his coat pocket glad he didn’t need to fire it. God only knows where the shots would have gone to and it was obvious Sara didn’t need any help.

  From behind him he could hear sounds of footsteps. He glanced back and saw two London Tube security staff closing in fast. Standing up he looked over to Sara who had by now picked up the knife. She removed the gun her attacker carried and placed it in her army overcoat.

  Jonathan turned towards the approaching British Rail staff and shouted, “You guys keep an eye on this one. They attacked the girl for no reason trying to get her backpack. There is another one who ran up the escalators. He got my wallet the thieving bastard!” he lied.

  With that he ran towards the escalator. Sara taking Jonathan’s queue ran over, looked at the two men approaching the scene and said with mock shock. “I’m with the big boy. He saved my life…” She caught up with Jonathan and they both ran up the escalator as fast as they could.

  As they approached the exit Sara grabbed hold of Jonathan, pulled up short and glanced through the doors. She turned to him and said, “There could be another trap waiting for us.” She looked around the immediate area outside before slipping out with Jonathan in tow.

  Everything seemed quiet. There was nothing to suggest that a commotion had taken place down below in the station.

  Sara turned right out looking back over her shoulder to make sure Jonathan was following. He too was looking over his shoulder sprinting forward and almost ran straight into her.

  “Slow down, Jonathan,” she said turning around putting her hands on his chest, “we need to walk, not run. And I need to get rid of this coat. Just follow me. How long did you say your little gadget will work masking these CCTV cameras?”

  “About another two, maybe three minutes,” he replied.

  “Well if it’s worked, it should give us enough time to get into the bar up the road. Just keep a few steps behind me. When we get there follow in behind, order drinks and find a table to sit at. I’ll have a glass of wine please,” she said. “Come on, hurry along old man.”

  Jonathan didn’t know whether to be stunned, confused, shocked or all three. He followed her.

  Chapter 16 | Disappeared

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN they’ve disappeared from view?” asked Egil walking into the CCTV monitoring room at Oxford Circus tube station.

  The operative looked away from the monitors and replied, “I don’t know man, we tracked them from Oxford Street to Canary Wharf. They got off the tube heading for the escalators.” He held his hands up in front of him in a gesture of don’t blame me, “They well, like, disappeared into thin air.”

  He looked at Egil with a curious stare, the two American’s had followed him in, along with Jason. Egil, Jason and the taller American looked worse for wear, a drunken look, their eyes bloodshot from the pepper spray.

  Egil shot the guy a don’t fuck with me and mind your own business look which made him turn back to his monitors.

  Disappeared? Thin air, Egil was thinking, I’m chasing a nonperson through London who now has just vanished into thin air. Who the hell was this Jonathan guy? And more to the point, why did we want him, or rather, who wanted him? One thing was sure though, whoever he was, he was a person of interest.

  On the way Jason had to stop the Range Rover and allow the other American to continue driving, more time wasted.

  As they travelled Jason had called the operations room at Thames House to instigate a tracker request on the two targets to predict their route. They informed him of their destination and he requested that another team get to Canary Wharf ASAP. They denied it.

  Jason stood behind Egil and whispered into his ear, “I need to speak to you, in private.”

  Egil looked at the two Americans standing in one corner, the taller of the two held his mobile to his ear. Who was speaking to him? Whatever they were up to and whatever the reasons they were tagging along he decided he would find out. He did not trust these two fellows and bollocks to Jacobs and his orders. He spoke to the camera operator, “Put up on screen a few moments before they departed the tube. Until they so called vanished. We’re off to get a coffee and by the time I get back make sure it’s ready for me.”

  The operator nodded.

  Egil looked at the two Americans again, “You two, stay here.”

  Jason followed his boss out of the room and back into the ticket area of the station. They found a small coffee vendor and got himself and Egil two dark coffees. No milk. No sugar. They needed them.

  “So, Jason, what do you need to speak in private for?”

  “Sorry to pull you out of the room, Egil, but I didn’t want our two American cousins eavesdropping. Central Operations refused a backup team to go to Canary Wharf, I was further declined a request to have British Rail Police to attend.”

  Egil took a sip of his coffee trying to think. “That’s very unusual to get a denied response, even more unusual when it’s asking for police presence in the area. Who denied them?”

  “The operation's manager, but he told me it wasn’t his decision. He has instructions to keep things low key and not to have any other personnel involved. Not even the police. He did say one thing of interest; the orders had come direct from the top.”

  Egil looked at Jason, “You mean Jacobs himself?”

  “Yes, it seems he is running the operation. There was something else on the orders we didn’t see, the target is involved in cyber espionage. It doesn’t add up. There’s more…”

  There always is with Jacobs, Egil thought.

  “I pulled in a favour from a contact in operations…” Jason continued.

  “Yes, the pretty red-head one no doubt?” Egil said smiling.

  Jason, embarrassed replied, “Yes. Anyways. I recognised the man we were targeting. Egil, something is wrong here. Jonathan Beckett, as in the Jonathan Beckett.” He waited till the penny dropped, but nothing came from Egil apart from a confused blank stare as he took another sip of his coffee.

  “For goodness sake Egil, you need to keep up to date. The girlie bollocks attack has got you all butter-fudged in the brain cells. Let me give you a small clue. ThornScope.”

  Not only did the penny drop, Egil almost dropped his coffee as he choked on the sip. Jason took a step backwards to avoid the splatter.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Egil spurted out as he wiped coffee from his mouth. “That was not in the file. You mean Beckett as in the guy who wrote the source code we’re now using to track him. As in mega rich can buy a country guy as in Mr Gone Walkabout five years ago?”

  Egil was livid with himself. The orders had come direct from Jacobs. A flimsy file and a photograph, wanted for questioning, nothing else. He thought he recognised the photograph, but was so annoyed over Jacobs he didn’t look further into it. Even worse, when Beckett and his company had won the contract for upgrading surveillance software Egil was on the team to vet both the company and Beckett. It was nothing more than an admin job, but one of his first assignments on joining MI5. Jacobs would have known that.

  Jason laughed at Egil. “You’ve been played, Mr Viking Man. Yes, Jonathan Beckett, billionaire recluse. The one and only, I knew those brain cells in that head of yours don’t just swim downstream in your pants. And there’s more. My little red-head friend pulled the request document. Damn just thought, you could bench me for this one let alone have little red-head sent on permanent mystery tour hols.”

  Although playful in his gestures, Egil could see the concern on Jason’s face and knew he could lose more than just his job. “Don’t worry, Jason. Yes, com
pletely against standard operation procedure,” he said with anger, “but then again, all of this is against procedure. That bastard is up to something and dragging me into it. He knew I would be so bloody angry at being used as an errand boy I would lose sight of what was going on.”

  “Payback on a Viking, I like that.” Jason replied “You have wound the old boy up for so long Egil. You may have some serious admirers in the box, but he is not one them. Even your Home Secretary high tea and biscuits fan would most likely not bail you out.”

  “OK, ok enough of the career advice, let’s get back to the matter in hand. And please don’t refer to the Home Secretary in such a manner.” Egil replied.

  Jason always liked to rib Egil about his connections, in a good playful way. Especially about the Home Secretary who having the ministerial responsibility of the security service, was also Egil’s godfather. Which Jacobs despised with a passion.

  “Our American friends?” Jason carried on. “They are not on the ops sheets and there is nothing to be found on them at all. I got a text from red-head. She called in a favour too when she realised who we were tracking. Which would mean she can forget all about the mystery tour holiday if found out, straight to jail, no passing Guantanamo Bay.”

  “Listen,” Egil replied, “between you and me, fuck Jacobs. But if he is involved in something, you better believe he is not an easy man to get one over on, ever. And before you go on, you better believe the Home Secretary will not help us out. I always get an ear bashing from him about my apparent lack of respect for Jacobs. However, you’re putting your career on the line here, Jason. If not a lot more.”

  It was true, everyone knew of the DG’s reputation, even the rumours were frightened of Jacobs.

  “Never liked the slime-ball-pimp-bashing-midget.” Jason replied, they both laughed. “The American’s are not CIA either,” Jason continued, “at least not now. Whoever they are, they are working off-book and I presume under direct orders from Jacobs.”

  “Which also means,” Egil interjected, “they are not working under modus operandi and we have to be extremely careful. Regardless of what we know, they are working for someone more powerful than either one of us. To be honest, I am bloody well tempted to have the two yanks arrested now, but that won’t do either one of us any favours. We need to find out what is going on, you up for it Jason?”

  “In for a penny, in for a pound… Before the EU gets it.” Jason laughed.

  Egil shook his head in response, but could not help give a little smirk. He knew if he went up against Jacobs, even with his admirers in the box, the world could well cave in on him. “Why are you referring to your friend as red-head?”

  “I didn’t, you did. And well, in case you’re recording our conversation she needs a code name, can’t let Mr Jacobs know I like you,” he said laughing again. “On a serious note, she is not my friend, she is my fiancé, for obvious reasons, we’ve kept it quiet.”

  “You are mad, Jason.”, Egil replied, “Are you sure you want to be involved in this? Whatever Jacobs is up to, there are others involved. And I’m not talking about our American friends, we can handle them. But can’t you see now, I’ve been handed this boy’s errand for a particular reason. He is setting me up for something, I don’t know what, but you are best well away from it.”

  Jason puffed out his chest, “Of course I’m mad. I have to be working with a descendent of Vikings who eat funny food. If we have to go to the afterlife? Make sure I get a free pass on the Valhalla water-slide please.”

  “You are in MI5, right? An intelligence officer, protect the homeland and all that?” Egil retorted emphasising the word intelligence slowly. “Don’t answer. We need to get back into the camera room. It’s time we do we what we do. I need to know who these Americans are, what they are up to and more important, what’s the interest in this Beckett character.”

  Jason said he would get right on to it and understood the implications. If they were to take on Jacobs, they better well damn be prepared.

  Chapter 17 | Have a Drink

  JONATHAN PICKED UP THE PACE, keeping a few steps behind. A glass of wine? She doesn’t look old enough. It seemed to him his new found friend was enjoying herself. Her baseball cap was still in place. How the heck did she manage that? He had lost his when he had landed flat on his backside.

  Sara entered the bar and Jonathan walked in behind. He looked around, to his concern he could no longer see her. The place was busy with Friday revellers finishing work early for the week. Looking around again and not finding Sara he decided she must have gone off to the ladies’ room. Pushing politely through the crowd he got to the front of the bar and ordered drinks. A couple of stiff whiskeys wouldn’t go a miss at this point but decided against it and instead ordered a pint of beer and a white wine.

  He picked up the drinks and turned around, found a vacant table not too far from the exit and carefully walked over through the noisy crowd. Damn it, where was she? Against his better judgement he sat down at a table glad to take off the damp jacket. Could he trust this girl? She had saved his ass on more than one occasion so far today, but who was she? Interrupting his thoughts, someone asked if the seat next to him was available.

  He looked up, “Sorry, no I’m waiting for a friend.”

  “Yes I know, Jonathan. That’s my glass of a well-deserved wine.” She picked up the glass and brought it up to her nose smelling the aroma. “It’s house wine I bet, you cheap skate.” She laughed at him.

  Jonathan had to look twice at her blinking his eyes. The person standing in front of him was no longer the girl from the street. She must have gone to the bathroom and changed. It’s amazing what a woman can carry in a backpack. Embarrassed and rather sheepish he looked at her again, the army overcoat and cap had gone. A white blouse showed off the attractive curves of her breasts, and Jonathan being a typical man couldn’t resist to look. She wore some rather nice fitting jeans with a leather biker’s jacket held over her arm. Her hair hung down flowing and he couldn’t help notice the beautiful fragrance drifting around. But it was the striking sparkling blue eyes that Jonathan noticed more than anything. The almost impossible change in her earlier underfed dark features shocked him. An exquisite woman, no longer a girl.

  She sat down next to him and placed the backpack underneath the table, “Jonathan, please close your mouth, people will stare,” she teased clinking the wine and beer glass together. “Cheers, mate.”

  He picked up his pint, gulping down almost half of it. If this is what it takes to have a beautiful woman sitting next to him, dating is well and truly overrated. “Sara,” he said, “I need answers. What’s going on?” He looked at her face trying to gauge if she was a friend or just another part of this movie like conspiracy plot.

  She turned and placed her hand on his. “Jonathan, I don’t have all the answers my friend…” She paused looking at him, “And what needs to be said, should not be said here. All I can say is that you are in great danger. I’m here to protect you, as I’ve done for the last eighteen months.”

  Agitated, he removed his hand from hers and massaged his temples. “That,” he replied, “just brings up a bunch of new questions. I’ve watched a man die, almost kidnapped by God only knows who and people are chasing me with guns. And you? A street kid turned into…” He left the sentence hanging in the air shaking his head in frustration.

  “Be patient please,” she said to him, “we need to stay here for a little while longer. We are safe here for now…”

  “Safe! You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his frustration showing through. “As soon as we walk out of here, they, whoever they are will find us. And if you haven’t already noticed young lady, there are dammed cameras in this place too. I have to be honest with you, I don’t know if you are just another plant jerking me around.” He knew he was on the back foot now, his patience at an end.

  Sara said, “OK. First, there are no cameras in here that work. Second, we won’t be going out of the front door. And
third, for the last six months I’ve been the main person, your contact, the one that has been giving you a USB device with leaked information. Information your little play friends have wanted to get out on the net. I took over a year to find you and even longer to get into a position to make sure I had your back.”

  He looked at her, “Cameras, what no cameras?”

  She took a long deep breath and sighed, “There are more people than just me looking out for you, Jonathan. After every contact you had,” she looked around the bar, “this place became one of the safe houses should anything happen, hence the reason there are no cameras on.”

  Jonathan didn’t reply, his attention was elsewhere. Something on the TV just above the bar area caught his eye. The sound was off, but the captions were on. It was the BBC News channel. He read the captions.

  ‘Greece bankrupt. Tens of thousands riot. Hundreds of people killed. Government lose control. Marshal Law declared.’

  Sara shook his arm, “Jonathan, what is it? Are you listening? I’m trying to explain...”

  He looked back at her with a daze look on his face. Everything he had ever done in his life, everything he thought he had given to help combat evil, radicals, corruption. It had all been for nothing. His own work, his own genius used to start something far worse than any war. He had just figured out what was on the USB drive he used in the internet cafe.

  That fragmented message.

  ‘GREECE EURO…’

  It had to be his code. It had to be ThornScope.

  Chapter 18 | No More MI5 Comms

  EGIL WALKED BACK TOWARDS the camera room telling Jason that they could not use the MI5 issued mobiles for any official communications. It was standard practice for them to carry two mobiles, work ones and personal ones. Jacobs saw to that, in memo form from human resources stating work mobiles were not to be used for personal calls. Another reason to dislike the prat. Jason suggested to Egil since they had not patted down the Americans they should also get armed, whilst he was not happy about it he agreed. If Jacobs had planned the downfall of Egil he’d better get ahead of the game. At the present time they were well behind and from now on out in the cold.