Break-In

by M G Leslie

  Jean’s team ran in to the road to try and see where she had gone, but she had already taken a turn and was out of sight. Seconds later, Jean screeched to a halt at the side of the road in his car and picked up two of the men. Then with wheels screeching once more to get a grip on the road, he took off after Lucy.

  They found the motorbike a few minutes later – she had parked it only a few roads away, next to a taxi stand. “Damn, she’s in a taxi – should could be anywhere,” said Jean, “Price will never let me live this down.”

  Jean called his contacts in the Police and alerted them that she might be heading for either the Eurostar or one of the seaports with ferries to the UK. His instructions were, “Let her leave, but alert him and the UK Police immediately.”

  Meanwhile, Lucy was not absolutely certain she had been followed, but she knew that the UK security services would be looking for her. So she checked in to a beauty salon and relaxed in the comfortable surroundings, drinking a glass of Bordeaux wine whilst her hair was cut and coloured.

  A few hours later, she left the salon looking completely different – no longer the beautiful dark haired Asian girl. With her now, very short harshly cut, blonde hair, coloured contact lenses, whiter skin, courtesy of whitening cream and powder, glasses, a hat and new clothes, she looked completely different – more like a Caucasian than an Asian.

  As she entered a bus terminal that took her to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, her assumption was that flights to the UK would be being closely monitored by the security services. So she purchased a ticket to the Irish capital, Dublin, using a different passport with a picture that matched her new appearance.

  The short hop from Paris to Dublin only took a couple of hours, and as soon as she landed, Lucy walked over to the Avis desk and hired a car, using a driver’s license that also matched her latest passport.

  The UK and Ireland, as well as the Channel Islands and Isle of Man, participate in what is known as the Common Travel Area or CTA. This means that the border agencies do not make routine checks on people travelling between the countries – so Lucy drove straight across the border from the Republic of Ireland and in to Northern Ireland which is part of the UK, without needing to show a passport or pass through any security check points. From there, she took a ferry across to Wales before joining the M4 motorway and heading east towards London – smiling to herself at how easy it had been to thwart security checks and get in to the country.

  Price was sitting in an armchair looking out of the window of his apartment, when his mobile phone rang, “What’s up?” he said.

  “We lost her!” replied Jean.

  “Well I guess that’s another dinner you owe me then.”

  “Sorry. She gave us the slip at the Eiffel Tower in amongst the crowds. I’ve alerted everyone, but I suspect she’s left the country already – there’s no sign of her anywhere – I’ve checked traffic cameras, airports, ports – they’re all blank I’m afraid. She’s vanished.”

  “OK. Well thanks,” said Price, “Let’s see what happens. I’ll keep my eye out for her. I have a request for you though – I’d like a copy of the CCTV cameras from the Gare Du Nord around the time I was checking in please. Our man dropped a newspaper and I think it may have been a message, as it was picked up very quickly and not placed in the bin – so it probably wasn’t station staff.”

  “OK,” replied Jean, “Do you know which bin we’re talking about so I know which camera to focus on?”

  “Right in front of the Eurostar check-in.”

  “OK, I’ll call you back later,” said Jean, and they dropped the call.

  Price immediately stood up and walked over and checked his front door was locked and bolted – he didn’t get nervous anymore – he’d been in the business too long – but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. He knew only too well that Lucy was a professional. And he knew that, as another professional, he could easily get from France to the UK without being stopped – so he had to assume she could as well, and was quite possibly already near by.

  With that in mind, as he left for work the next day, he was sure to check his car for any signs of tampering and take all the security precautions he would normally take when on an assignment overseas.

  There was no sign that he was being followed as he went to work – but again, he knew he could follow people without being seen, so that didn’t mean much either.

  After briefing his Chief on the events, they decided to assign another SIS officer to watch Price, albeit from a distance. The idea was to try and give him a warning if and when Lucy did make a move. Meanwhile, the MI5 watchers continued to track Mendax’s movements.

  A couple of days later, Jean called, “You may be right Price – a man in a hat walked over, picked up the newspaper and left the station.”

  “Maybe he’d just arrived on a train, saw a free newspaper and left with it?” said Price, trying to consider all options.

  “No,” replied Jean, “He walked in, waited a while, picked up the newspaper and left. I’m sending you the footage now so you’ll see what I mean – I’m also sending the outside CCTV camera films which show him getting out of a taxi on arrival and taking one as he left.”

  “I see what you mean,” said Price, “Can you ID him?”

  “No. As I say, he was wearing a hat and looking down and away from cameras the whole time.”

  “Damn him!” said Price, “We had the same problem in the hotel in Hong Kong.”

  “It’s funny you say that, because this fellow is a Caucasian – probably about the same build as Mike,” said Jean, “But Mike’s no longer with us, right?”

  “Well and truly gone – just a piece of history,” said Price.

  “You saw the body I suppose?”

  “No. No I didn’t actually. And I know what you’re thinking, but let’s not go there – unless you’re telling me the person who picked up the paper was wearing some stupid orange watch?”

  “No such luck my friend. I just thought I’d ask though.”

  “Yeah, well I’d like to put that behind us please Jean – it’s not getting us anywhere. Is there any way you track the taxi’s our man took? Traffic cameras? Anything?”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing for the last couple of days Price,“ said Jean, a little annoyed. “But you have to remember, this is central Paris and the drivers we spoke to don’t remember anything – he was just another fare – one of millions of people in the city that day. I’m sorry, we have followed up with all the taxi firms and that line of enquiry didn’t lead anywhere.”

  “OK, well thanks,” said Price, “Take care. Catch you later I guess.”

  “Before you go,” said Jean.

  “Yes?”

  “You do realise, whoever it was, probably saw you. At least, they may have done – so I suggest you monitor Mendax’s communications very closely indeed, in case he’s tipped off.”

  “Yeah, I realise that. Thanks,” said Price, “More bad news – yet another anonymous person who knows what I look like.” Then he dropped the call.

  There’s an old saying that, ‘True love knows no boundaries’, and Price assumed it must have been true love that caused Lucy to make her first real mistake. He couldn’t believe she’d have done what she did for any reason other than love – especially as she had already agreed not to meet Mendax in the UK.

  It was late on a Wednesday evening when the watchers followed Mendax to an apartment building in the Docklands area of East London. He hadn’t been there before, at least not since they had been following him, so they assumed he must have been visiting a friend. However, they were stunned when a hire car driven by Lucy, entered the underground car park shortly afterwards – so they called Price immediately.

  “Don’t do anything,” Said Price, as he ran out of his apartment, jumped in to his car and drove as quickly as he could to the London Docklands, with his own SIS watcher in tow.

  Whilst he was driving, he spoke to the watchers on his mobile
phone, “What are they doing?”

  “Having sex,” said the watcher who laughed as he spoke, “We’re camped out in another building across the road and they haven’t pulled the curtains properly – and in any case, we brought the infrared kit with us.”

  “Not again!” said Price, “That’s what they did in Paris.”

  “Yeah, and they’re quite energetic about it,” said the watcher, still laughing.

  Price didn’t find it funny – he just wanted her locked up. So he sped up and started to infringe a few speed limits – arriving just over an hour later, just as a watcher called him and said, “He’s leaving.”

  “OK, you follow him, I’ll keep an eye on her,” said Price.

  “We should call it in,” said the watcher, “She’s on the wanted list – her picture is everywhere.”

  “I know,” said Price. But when we pick her up, it’s key that she doesn’t get a chance to contact him and inform him that she’s been found. Let me get in there and I will call it in,” said Price, “Don’t worry.”

  “OK,” said the watcher, who left with his team to continue following Mendax.

  A few minutes later Price was standing outside the apartment door. He was sorely tempted to kick it down and use his Smith and Wesson to reduce Lucy to a pile of blood on the floor – but instead he approached the door very quietly, making sure she would not hear him from inside.

  As with many doors these days, it had a peephole at about head height that enabled the occupants of the room to see who was outside in the corridor – but because of the shape of the glass lens, it was difficult to see inside. At least it would have been for a normal person. Price, however, came prepared and carried a glass attachment that reversed the direction of the magnification, giving him a clear view of the inside of the apartment.

  Being sure not to make any noise, he carefully placed it against the peephole and looked through – Lucy was standing in the distance and appeared to be watching TV with her back to the door.

  Price continued to look, whilst retrieving his locksmith tools from his pocket. Then, by feel alone, he unlocked and opened the door – being as quiet as humanly possible to make sure Lucy did not hear him.

  He was lucky! Since it was a relatively new building, the door was well oiled and didn’t make a sound as he stepped inside, with his Smith and Wesson raised in front of him and pointing at Lucy.

  “Hello Lucy, this is a pleasant surprise. How are you today?” said Price.

  Lucy spun around as if an electric shock had struck her.

  A less well-trained person may have fired their weapon, but Price stayed calm and noted that she was unarmed.

  Now facing him, Lucy didn’t reply but just stood still looking at him through her dark glasses.

  By this time, Price’s SIS watcher had entered the apartment as well and was standing next to him.

  Price desperately wanted to get it over and done with and pull the trigger, but again he restrained himself, and whilst still staring at Lucy said, “Call it in – get Special Branch over here quickly.”

  “Sir? Are you sure? Nobody would know,” was the reply.

  “Call it in, that’s an order,” said Price. “Do it! Now!”

  So the man called up the Chief of Staff and explained what had just happened. The Chief of Staff then explained it to the Chief who contacted the Head of the Security Service (MI5) and the Metropolitan Police’s Special Branch division, who regularly partnered with MI5 on internal security matters.

  A short while later, Lucy, still silent, was in handcuffs and being led away by the Police. As she walked past Price, now with her glasses removed, he stared straight in to her eyes and blew her a kiss. She tried to spit back at him, but Price saw it coming and stepped to the side at the last second whilst laughing at her reaction.

  At the Chief’s request, Lucy’s arrest was kept secret and no news was released to the press. Even internal communications within MI5, SIS and the Police were supressed.

  This was deliberate because, two days later a meeting was scheduled to provide an update on the case to the investment banks. The meeting invitation specified the SIS headquarters at Vauxhall Cross as the location, and the invitees included the investment banks, the Bank of England, the Serious Fraud Office and various government ministers – at least, that’s what Mendax thought, as he arrived at the SIS headquarters at Vauxhall Cross.

  It was only when he found himself alone in a meeting room that he became suspicious.

  The, almost bare, room contained a black rectangular table surrounded by 6 black leather office chairs and a large LCD screen at one end, facing the door – there weren’t any windows and the door to the room was unmarked.

  Then the Chief walked in with Price behind him. Mendax looked at them and, trying to be brave, said, “What’s going on? How dare you bring me here under false pretences! Where is everyone else?”

  The Chief spoke in a calm voice, “Please take a seat Mr Mendax. This won’t take very long – we need your help with some pictures and recordings. Please, there’s no cause for alarm.”

  Mendax hesitated, clearly still unsure, and was about to continue his protestations when the Chief said, “Please… take a seat. This really won’t take very long.” So Mendax, somewhat reluctantly, sat down and turned to face the LCD screen.

  Price smiled to himself, but showed no emotion, as he knew that the Chief was being economical with the truth – there was indeed, no cause for alarm, provided Mendax did exactly what they wanted. But if he didn’t, he would have a very bad day indeed.

  A few seconds later, the LCD screen came to life – it was being controlled from the room next door.

  The room fell silent as pictures of Mendax and Lucy appeared on the screen – Jean hadn’t planted any video equipment in their Paris hotel rooms, but he had been able to capture some still shots that left nothing to the imagination. These were followed by video footage of them both arriving in the Docklands apartment block and then some more compromising shots taken from across the road.

  Then, as pictures of their airport and Eurostar security photos were flashed on the screen, the Chief spoke, “I believe this is you as well,” then the sound of Mendax and Lucy in the throws of passion in Paris was played back along with their subsequent conversation and his direction for her to get rid of Price.

  Mendax remained silent but the slide show continued. This time the screen showed lists of phone calls – each with a time and location. Then after a few seconds, it displayed a picture of Lucy being arrested, followed by the aftermath of the explosion in Stanley Bay and finally a picture of the Philippines intelligence officer, Kit, with a bullet in his head.

  The Chief continued, “The phone calls along with a huge amount of network data Mr Mendax, link the girl to acts of murder and terrorism. They also link you to her, as do the tickets, pictures, videos and most significantly, the voice recording where you ordered her to murder one of my officers. We have a record of the message you sent her, telling her to flea the island in the north Philippines as well – that, amongst other things, by the way, was a serious breach of national security, as you came by the information as a result of your privileged position in Her Majesty’s government. Add that to the historical information we have, showing how you two met, and in short, we have enough to lock you up and throw away the key.

  So, you have a choice.

  You can leave this room now and very briefly you will be a free man. But as soon as you step a foot in the public street, you’ll be arrested for treason and your life as you know it, will be over.

  Aside from the impact on your family, because I doubt if your wife and children will be pleased to hear about your sordid meetings with a prostitute, we don’t take kindly to traitors Mr Mendax. I can assure you that you won’t enjoy your time inside – I will make quite sure of that – don’t underestimate my influence in this country!”

  The Chief decided to stop there and let the information sink in. Then, after a min
ute or so, Mendax spoke quietly and said, “You said I had a choice?”

  “Indeed I did,” said the Chief. “In everything in life, there’s always a choice. You can go to prison or you can work for me. And you never know, if you cooperate, maybe you will get to see your children grow up.”

  The room fell silent again for a few seconds and then Mendax said, “OK I will cooperate. What happens now?”

  “Yes,” said the Chief, “That was, of course, a very predictable response – but you see, it’s not quite that simple. I’ve already spoken to your management in the Ministry of Defence and you will retain your current position but will work for me – in fact you’ll work for Price to be more specific. He will de-brief you and direct you going forward. You’ll stay put in the MOD purely so as to make your controller believe nothing has changed in your life, but believe you me – it has – very much so.

  The girl’s trial will be held under tight security in a closed court so as to keep your name out of the papers. You will, however, be prohibited from leaving the country and for the time being, you’ll be held in one of our facilities – effectively under house arrest.”

  Mendax was about to protest, when the Chief interrupted, “The thing is Mr Mendax – we don’t trust you. You passed security checks to get your job. You signed the Official Secrets Act and then you partnered with a known terrorist and people died – either as a result of your orders, or as a result of orders you were aware of and did nothing to prevent.

  You were that girl’s controller – that’s clear from the voice recording in Paris – so you were directing a known terrorist whilst yourself working as an agent of an overseas organisation.

  The Police will collect your passport and you will be required to wear a tag, so that we can keep track of you. Your family will be informed you’re working on a government project under the tightest security and cannot go home for a while. Additionally, you will clear all communications with anyone, and I mean anyone, with Price until further notice.