by KC McLaren
“Make sure you contact Lucy,” Egil said to Jason, “and tell her, no more comms on MI5 channels, Jacobs will no doubt have me monitored. We need an excuse to get you away from the Americans so you can discretely get some gear.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem, my eyes are killing me, here hold my coffee.” Jason rubbed them with his knuckles. “There you go, they look worse now, I’ll ask you to let me go get treatment.”
Egil looked at Jason handing the coffee back. “They were bad enough before you did your self-harm routine. And while you are gallivanting around, try to find out what happened to these cameras. Right then, let’s get this show on the road.”
Jason whistled the old Bette Midler song, ‘Whatever we do, wherever we go, we're going to go through it together…’
Egil looked at him, shaking his head and rolling his eyes up in mock despair, “Jason, stop it before I get the urge to taser you…”
They walked back into the camera room and the two Americans were hovering over the operative waiting to see the re-run. Egil asked if it was ready to which he replied yes. He put his coffee down, it tasted awful.
They watched the target get off the tube and saw the girl following behind him. It still shocked Egil that she could take him and the others out so easy, and so fast. Which side was she playing for? He had to find out more about her and wherever she was, Jonathan Beckett would not be too far behind. Beckett, Egil figured, had no chance in getting to Thames House. Glad the guy got loose. There was no doubt the strong arm Americans had other plans.
The camera angled changed as the pair walked towards the escalators, they stopped. Eyebrows in the room raised as they saw the target give the girl a cuddle. The camera switched to another angle then switched back to the pair. The image came up in infrared. Egil asked the camera operator to stop the play back.
“Why has it switched to infrared?” Egil ask.
“That’s one thing I can’t answer, and as you can see the camera focusing on the pair is not registering any heat signals. They seem to have just disappeared. I’ve tried to track with other cameras, and I get the same thing every time I zone in on that spot. It gives me infrared, but no heat signature of the pair,” the operator replied.
“What about the cameras outside, do they pick up anything?” Egil said.
“No. I switched to the outside, both west and east exits. The cameras were all clear on the east exit, but the west switched to infrared. After a further few minutes the cameras seem to operate fine. I can’t track or see any movement on the two. And it would not matter, our CCTV only goes as far as the entrance and exits of the tube station. After that they are monitored by Canary Wharf security.”
Jason stepped forward and asked the operator to get out of his seat. “I can bring those cameras up on this system. After we’ve done that Egil, I’m sorry but I need to get my eyes treated. It’s hard to see out of them and I’ll be useless.”
Egil agreed and Jason typed on the keyboard logging into MI5 operations. He brought up on three separate screens the inside of the tube station of the west exit and linked them into the Canary Wharf CCTV’s. Those monitored the area above ground. Jason got up and asked the operator to take back his seat. He told him how to match up the keyboard instructions to gain access to the outside cameras.
Egil stared at the screens in front of him and knew he was missing something. He asked the operator to replay them. This time from the tube station up the escalators to the entrance then left for a few minutes then right for a few minutes. He looked at the images and still couldn’t figure out what he was missing but knew there must be something, some clue. Think Egil think man! “OK,” he said, “can anyone see anything unusual, apart from the cameras switching to infrared?” There was silence. Egil paced around the room wracking his brains, replaying again in his mind the pair leaving the tube, stopping before the escalators, the cuddle, and yet still it eluded him. “Right, give me some shots of the tube station ten minutes after the cuddle and in the same place.”
The operator typed on his keyboard and brought up the CCTV cameras and queued the time frame up. A scene came up showing several police officers milling around the area the target. What was going on here? Egil thought. They had asked for local police to back them but told no, so why were the police there some ten minutes later?
“Egil,” Jason said reading Egil’s thoughts, “I’ll get onto British Transport Police and find out why officers were on scene. There is a private health care practice over in Harley Street, about a 5-minute cab ride from here. A doctor there served in the same regiment as me, he’ll know what to do.” It was not far from the truth either, Jason had already texted the doctor and by now was waiting up top with a spray.
“OK, Jason. Don’t come back here. We’ll meet you at Canary Wharf.”
Jason nodded and headed out, he glanced over to the two Americans and took a few photos snaps on his mobile.
The taller American spoke to Egil demanding, “We need to go and we need to go now. Hanging around here will not get us any further information on the two suspects.”
Egil shot him a look back, “I’ll decide when we leave. We don’t know where they’ve gone. There’s something in these videos we’re missing. I’m sure of it.” He told the operator to cue a replay again asking him to go right from the west entrance of the tube station. The images came up and after a few seconds, the infrared red changed to normal. That’s odd he thought. He now realised how to find their last position and the operator to track the cameras till they returned to normal view. Found them.
“That,” Egil said pointing at the monitor, “is their last position. Canada Square Park.”
The taller American stared at the monitor, “There are lots of people around that area. I don’t see what you mean bud.”
“Think about,” Egil replied. “The cameras switch back to normal view and the question one has to ask? Why?” He turned to the operator and pointing at the screen said, “What’s that building?”
The operator used another keyboard bringing up Google earth on the monitor and matching the co-ordinates he replied, “It’s a bar. The Parlour Bar.”
“Out of sight out of mind. They ducked into the bar that’s where they are.”
The two Americans looked at each then back to Egil, “Still don’t get it. How do you work that out?” The taller one asked.
“Simple. The cameras switched back to normal view but we can’t see the two of them anywhere. Whatever they were using to mask their whereabouts stopped working. And since we can’t see them, they must be in a building. That one,” said Egil pointing to the public house on the monitor. Damn it he thought. If Jason were here, he could get a look inside that bar.
The American understood, “How could they mask the cameras?” he asked.
“Well my friend that is a good question considering the people we’re looking for are, well, just people of low interest,” Egil replied with a sarcastic tone.
He thanked the camera operator for his help, “Remove the link to Thames House please.” The operator complied and Egil checked it and to the Americans, “It’s time we got over to Canary Wharf. I fancy a pint of beer.”
As Egil headed for the door, the Americans stood still looking a little confused. “You two coming along?” he said as he left.
Chapter 19 | Simulation Models
“JONATHAN, YOU OK?” asked Sara shaking his arm.
“Yes Sara, I’m fine,” he replied. “I know why they’re after me now.” He looked up at the TV then back to her. “The news item on the TV. It’s Greece, I’ve seen this before in simulation models,” he hesitated for a moment, “I wrote them. There was no underground group information to upload at the café. It was a setup to bring me back on the grid and activate code to hit the Greek banking system. And you,” raising his voice pointing at her, “gave me the USB stick.”
“You think I did that on purpose?” she replied shocked. “Let me tell you something Mr… err, let me
think, ah yes. genius,” she said rolling her eyes to the ceiling and stressing the genius part.
“Whilst you have been pomp-pissing-assing-around feeling sorry for yourself. And off the freaking grid. Did you really think your code would stop? We couldn’t just stop…” She shut her eyes for a moment and lowered her tone, “After you left us all in the proverbial shit there was an organisation set up. It was setup for you. To protect you and your damn doomsday blarney code. You weren’t the only one that had major reservations in the direction it was going. But oh no. The great Mr Jonathan Beckett, genius code writer, couldn’t be bothered to stick around could he? You disappeared and others had to mop up the mess! And as you can see now, we weren’t the only ones trying to track and find you,” she paused. “Sorry Jonathan, I’m rambling. I didn’t mean to put you in your place.”
“You haven’t and it wasn’t like that,” he replied. He had his reasons and as the major shareholder, the company belonged to him. The ownership well-hidden through shell companies, controlled and setup by him. He couldn’t just walk away, ThornScope would never have allowed it. But by using his code he could mask transactions, payments and his development of ThornScope from afar. The code had been nothing like anything ever developed before and decades ahead of its time. In the wrong hands? He didn’t want to think about it. And the reason he left? They wanted to use his code to control, not protect. The only reason he kept on developing and changing it was to protect it. He had hidden highly encrypted security measures to prevent malicious use – code within code. The encryption algorithms were way beyond even the most sophisticated decipher hacking methods available anywhere on the planet. Something had changed and Greece was only the tip of the melting iceberg.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, “how long before we can move?”
“Not long now, a few more minutes. There’ll be a car waiting for us out back to take us to a secure safe house.”
Sara looked up, a man walked towards them. “Jonathan, take everything you need out of your coat pockets.”
“Shit, what’s happening now.” he said in a whisper.
“It’s OK. I know him,” she replied.
“I don’t and I can’t take everything out my pockets, I still have the gun,” he said.
“You’ve got to trust me. And the gun is no longer in your pocket. I removed it when I stopped you on leaving the tube exit.”
Hoe the hell did she do that without him noticing? He was no longer surprised though. There was a lot more to Sara than he knew. A lot more questions to ask, but she was right. Not here. He removed the USB sticks and the mobile from the coat pockets. Sara offered to take the USB sticks, but he ignored her and put them in his trouser pocket. The man now stood at the table. He looked at Sara then put his coat down next to Jonathan and picked up Jonathan’s and walked off. Jonathan realised it was the same man that served him at the bar.
“That should keep you warmer than the damp one, I also suggest you leave your mobile here.” Sara said.
“No. That won’t be necessary, it stays with me. It can’t be hacked, monitored or traced. It’s linked into….” he stopped himself in mid-sentence. “The mobile is staying with me.”
Sara raised an eyebrow but nodded, “OK, Jonathan, time to leave. I’ll tell you more when we get in the car.”
Chapter 20 | Sight Seeing
EGIL GOT INTO THE BACK of the Range Rover with the two American’s sat in the front, best way to keep an eye on them. He knew he had been misled and sensed this was no longer a simple operation. They talked small talk for a while and the only real information he could get out of them, without direct questioning, were their names which he doubted were real anyways. Brad, the taller of the two and his counterpart Brendon who was driving. The two B’s as he called them. They had both worn gloves since meeting them, Egil thought it wasn’t that cold.
“So Finstad, when can we expect to have our fire arms returned to us?” Brad asked.
“You may not carry guns in the UK. The only reason I'm not reporting the matter is that I suspect my boss will no doubt dismiss it out of hand.” Egil replied.
“I don’t think your boss will be happy with you Finstad, we have every right to protect ourselves…”
“The only right you have is to do as you are told whilst I’m in charge. That charge comes under the directive of the legal limits MI5 work within. And whilst you are here, you are only a guest at the behest of my boss. I will hand over your weapons to the duty officer when we get to Thames House, then you can take it up with him. The matter is closed.”
Brad turned around, anger on his face. “You’re a real badass Finstad. You think you are in charge of this?”
His buddy Brendon interrupted glaring back with an expression on his face warning Brad to shut the hell up. “Brad, he has every right to control the situation as he sees fit, drop it. Egil I need directions to Canary Wharf, I’m fine with driving in central London, but do not understand how to get to Canary Wharf. Have you got a zip code for the satnav?”
Letting your guard down Brad are we? So you think I’m not in charge, interesting. Egil thought to himself. “Yes, sure,” he replied. “Don’t bother with the in-car navigation, it will take us through Thames Embankment and get us snarled up in traffic. Keep Oxford Street, the A40 heading eastwards towards Holborn. I’ll direct you from there. Wish we were taking the tube, either way in a car it will take us at least forty minutes.”
Brendon looked into his driver’s mirror acknowledging Egil. So you’re the rational one then Brendon, he thought to himself wondering what else he could get out of him. “Brendon, why do you think the police were at the tube station? We didn’t ask for police presence.”
Brendon glanced back in his driver’s mirror then back to the road, averting eye contact. Got ya! Egil thought, you know more than you are telling me, and I bet there are more false agents hanging around.
“No idea, Egil.” Brendon replied. “Do I turn right down here towards Holborn?”
Classic misdirect, and a poor one at that. He noticed Brad’s slight look at Brendon as his head turned just a little. Ah yes, he continued thinking, that phone call you got Brad, the police were there for a reason.
Egil’s mobile vibrated.
“No, it’s a one-way system, you have to turn leftwards onto Bloomsbury Way. Keep following the A40 till I tell you otherwise.” He took his personal mobile out of his pocket. “Hello Jason, how the devil are you old man?”
“I’m devilish good, and less of the old. I take it our American cousins are close by and you are in the car now sightseeing?” Jason replied. He and Egil had devised a simple code a long time ago to inform each other if one of them could not talk freely on an open channel.
“Yes, we are on the way to Canary Wharf. It will take about forty mins depending on traffic. Did you get what you needed?” Egil asked, and he was not talking about the treatment to his eyes.
“Yes, all sorted. I’ve got you a nice little sling shot since you don’t like guns. There was an incident at the tube station in Canary Wharf. From what I can gather something to do with a possible mugging. By the time police arrived everything had calmed down with no sight of either the alleged attackers or victims.”
“So the police think it was nothing more than a mugging attempt and all parties have disappeared?” Egil said, lying, watching the two B’s for signs of reaction. Yep, another slight turn of the head from Brad.
Jason ignored his partners questioning understanding he was deflecting and continued. “Some things of interest though. The two security guards on scene told the police a man and girl had raced up the escalators in apparent pursuit of someone.”
Egil went on with yes’s, good to know, I understand.
“There were two men hurt,” Jason continued. “How bad I don’t know. They were adamant they were the ones attacked and the runaways, the man and girl were trying to mug them. The two men refused treatment and disappeared before police arrived, CCTV gave n
othing and the main point of interest? Two men had American accents.”
No surprise there then, Egil thought. “OK, Jason. Looks like we won’t get anything further by going to the tube station. I believe the targets ducked into a public house, The Parlour Bar. Meet us there, use the west exit of the tube and turn right, it’s about five-hundred yards up. I’m sure you can find it.”
“So, you want me to find the security guards and get as much description and information from them?” Jason replied understanding the misdirection.
“Yes, the bar is not far from the tube station. Don’t bother about CCTV, none of its good for up to ten minutes after the targets left the station. It’s pie in the sky information now.”
“Oh!” Jason replied, “We are playing spy games now, me like. You want me to view the CCTV to look for the other two Americans. Now, ‘pie in the sky’. How many points is that worth?”
“It’s not worth any satellite, we won’t get it anyways, too low priority for something like this.” Egil retorted.
“Shit!” Jason said. “You want me to get satellite for the area. That will raise a red flag. OK, I’ll do my best, but we will not get much because of the clouds and snow. It’s clearing up now, so we are talking about twenty to thirty minutes after they left the station.”
“Yes, that’s right, The Parlour Bar, see you there in about thirty to forty minutes.”
“You want satellite from over the bar, copy that. Hope you know what you are doing Mr Viking. Speak later.”
With the call ended Egil repeated his side of the conversation to the Americans adding what Jason had told him, which was nothing what Jason had actually said. He explained there was not much information at the station and saw both the B’s relax their shoulders. No wonder you guys no longer work for the CIA, he thought to himself, you give far too much away with your body language. “So, there is no point in going to the tube station. Let’s go straight to the bar, we could all do with a pint, even misery guts Brad.”
