by Hill, Will
As we exited the residence, we received a list of John Bathurst’s known associates. It contained a single name, a journalist named Kevin McKenna. We proceeded to Mr McKenna’s last known residence at 62A Kilburn Lane, arriving at approximately 0700 and made contact with Mr McKenna.
We informed him that a recently released prisoner with a grudge against John Bathurst may attempt to contact him, as per the active cover story, and instructed him to contact the police immediately if such a situation arose.
Awaiting further instructions.
23
TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES
Jamie made his way into the Intelligence Division and found Kate Randall waiting for him in front of the door that led into ISAT. She smiled as he approached, and he resisted the overwhelming urge to hug her.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.
“The timing could be better,” Jamie replied. “But at least it’ll be done with.”
“It’s just routine, Jamie,” said Kate. “Answer the questions honestly and we’ll get you out of here as quick as we can.”
“No problem,” he replied. “Lead the way.”
Kate nodded and tapped a series of numbers into the panel that controlled the security door. It unlocked with a series of heavy clunks, and he followed her inside. An Operator was seated behind a small reception desk; he looked up at Jamie and nodded in recognition. Jamie nodded back, then stepped through a second door and into the interview room. Kate closed the door and motioned him towards the chair at the far end of the room; he settled uneasily into it as his friend spoke quietly into her radio.
Moments later the door opened again and two Intelligence Division Operators entered. They said nothing as they began to attach a number of sensors to his chest and neck; they seemed unwilling to even look at him.
“What’s all this?” Jamie asked.
“Standard lie-detector stuff,” replied Kate. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes and we can get started.”
“Take your time,” said Jamie. “I’ll just wait here.” He grinned, and she smiled over her shoulder at him as she left the room.
Kate pushed open the door to the ISAT lounge and stepped inside. Paul Turner looked up from his copy of Jamie Carpenter’s file, which was remarkably thick for someone who had been an Operator for less than a year.
“Three minutes,” said Kate. “At least this one should be quick.”
“We’ll see,” said Turner, and returned his attention to the file.
The technicians pressed the final sensor into place and exited the room, leaving Jamie alone. He tried to find a comfortable position in the chair, pushing himself against the shiny plastic, but quickly abandoned the effort; the furniture in the room had clearly not been selected with relaxation in mind. His heart was thumping in his chest and he focused on trying to calm it, taking long, deep breaths. His eyes remained fixed on the door, his mind on what Kate might be about to ask him.
Paul Turner closed Jamie’s file, then led Kate out into ISAT’s small atrium, unlocked the interview room door and held it open. She took a deep breath and walked through it. Jamie smiled at her, although the expression didn’t appear wholly genuine; she smiled back in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion and took a seat at the desk. Paul Turner closed and locked the door, before settling into the empty chair beside her.
Ten minutes, she thought. Yes, it’s weird, yes, it’s awkward. Just be professional and get it done as quickly as possible.
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Paul Turner. “Do you understand the importance of the process that Lieutenant Randall and I are carrying out?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jamie, and gave Kate a brief glance full of pride. “I do.”
“Excellent. Be honest and this will be over soon.”
Jamie nodded. Kate waited a moment, cleared her throat, and began.
“This is ISAT interview 068, conducted by Lieutenant Kate Randall, NS303, 78-J in the presence of Major Paul Turner, NS303, 36-A. State your name, please.”
“Jamie Carpenter.”
Green.
“Please answer the following question incorrectly,” said Kate. “State your gender, please.”
Jamie smiled. “Female.”
Red.
“OK,” said Kate. “Let’s get started. Mr Carpenter, are you currently a Lieutenant in Department 19?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Do you understand that every aspect of your role within Department 19 is classified at Top Secret or higher?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Do you understand the necessity for the general public to remain unaware of our existence?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Have you ever done anything to jeopardise that state of affairs?”
Jamie fell silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said, eventually.
Green.
“Please explain what you were referring to in your previous answer.”
“I allowed a Department helicopter to make an emergency landing on a residential street in Paris.”
Green.
“Why did you make that decision, Lieutenant?”
“Colonel Frankenstein was injured and in a condition likely to draw attention. I didn’t believe we had time to reach our scheduled extraction point.”
Green.
“Did you consider the possible implications of your decision?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“And what did you conclude?”
“That Colonel Frankenstein’s life was worth the risk.”
Green.
Kate smiled inwardly. This was the first incident in Jamie’s file that Intelligence had flagged, even though he had included it in his report at the time. She was relieved to see him deal with it head-on.
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” she continued. “Have you ever engaged in activities with the intention of damaging or hindering this Department?”
“No.”
Green.
“Have you ever passed information regarding this Department to anyone who was not a member?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“To whom did your previous answer refer?”
“Matt Browning.”
Green.
“Please explain what you are referring to.”
Jamie cleared his throat. “When Matt came out of his coma, I told him where he was and some of what we do here. He told me he wanted to help, and I told him that he should try to get back here if he was serious.”
Green.
Kate felt the tension in her shoulders relax, just a little. The incident involving Matt was the second, and most serious, flag in her friend’s file, and she was glad to hear him volunteer the information.
“Why did you pass on classified information to a member of the public?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Jamie. Colour had risen in his cheeks, which Kate guessed was embarrassment at the memory of what he had done. Either that or anger; if that was the case, she hoped it wasn’t directed at her. “There was just something about Matt that I trusted. I believed he was faking his amnesia, which would mean he was already aware of the existence of vampires, and had seen Operators with his own eyes. Mostly, I believed his desire to help was genuine.”
Green.
“Were you aware that you were breaking a number of Department regulations by giving Matt Browning classified information?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Lieutenant Carpenter, have you ever conspired in any way to harm this Department?”
“No.”
Green.
“Have you ever discussed this Department with any supernatural being beyond the execution of orders given to you by your superiors?”
“No.”
Green.
“Would you ever betray the trust of this Department?”
“No.”
&
nbsp; Green.
“Are there any incidents in which you believe you could have compromised the security of this Department, whether intentionally or otherwise?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Please explain your previous answer.”
“Matt could have told people what I told him,” said Jamie. “He couldn’t have damaged the Department with the information I gave him, but I suppose he could have asked some awkward questions.”
Green.
“Any other incidents?”
“No.”
Green.
Kate let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Carpenter,” she said. “We’re—”
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” interrupted Paul Turner. She looked over at him, a frown emerging on her brow.
“Yes, sir?” replied Jamie. His eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted his gaze to the Security Officer.
“Do you consider yourself a descendant of the founders?” asked Turner.
Jamie frowned. “I don’t see what that—”
“Answer the question, please, Lieutenant.”
“Yes,” said Jamie, after a long pause. “I consider myself a descendant of the founders.”
Green.
“Do you believe that makes you better than the rest of this Department?”
“Of course not,” said Jamie, his face like thunder.
Green.
“Are you proud to be a descendant?”
“Yes. I am.”
Green.
“Why?”
“Kate,” said Jamie, looking over at her. “Is this really—”
“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Paul Turner, his voice low. “I’d ask you to direct your attention to me when I’m talking to you. And I’d like you to answer my question, please.”
Jamie stared at the Security Officer, his expression unreadable. “Fine,” he said, eventually. “What was the question?”
“Why are you proud to be a descendant of the founders, Lieutenant Carpenter?”
“Because I’m proud of the men my ancestors were,” said Jamie. “I’m proud of the things they did. They make me feel like I’m part of something special.”
Green.
“It makes you feel special?” asked Turner.
“That’s not what I said.”
Green.
“I heard what you said, Lieutenant. Does it make you feel special?”
“No.”
Green.
“Do you blame yourself for the condition that Colonel Frankenstein now suffers from?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Explain.”
“Because if I had trusted him before I went to Lindisfarne, he wouldn’t have been attacked by the werewolf.”
Green.
“You can’t know that for certain,” said the Security Officer. “Don’t you consider it egotistical to believe that everything happens because of you?”
“I don’t think that everything happens because of me.”
Green.
“Do you wish your mother wasn’t a vampire?”
A long, heavy silence filled the room, as Jamie stared at Paul Turner with open, blazing fury.
“Of course I do,” he said, the words emerging from his mouth like pulled teeth.
Green.
“Do you wish that Colonel Frankenstein wasn’t a lycanthrope?”
“Yes.”
Green.
“Do you love your mother?”
“Paul,” said Kate, sharply. “Stop this.” Her face was pale, her eyes wide, but Turner didn’t so much as glance in her direction.
“Do you love your mother, Lieutenant Carpenter?”
“Yes,” said Jamie, his voice laced with venom. “I do. Very much.”
Green.
“You would do anything to return her to normal, correct?”
“No.”
Green.
“You wouldn’t?”
“No,” repeated Jamie.
Green.
“Why not? You just told me you love her. Very much, in fact.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” snarled Jamie. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But you’re wrong. I love my mother more than anyone else alive, and I wish every day that what happened to Colonel Frankenstein hadn’t. But I still wouldn’t betray the Department for them, no matter what anyone offered me.”
Green.
“Why not, Lieutenant Carpenter?”
“Because neither of them would want me to.”
Green.
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.”
Green.
“Why else?”
“Because I’m not a traitor, Major Turner. It’s as simple as that.”
Green.
For several seconds, it seemed as though everyone in the interview room was holding their breath; the air felt poisonous, thick and heavy with tension. When it felt as though the pressure had reached the point where it must surely explode, Paul Turner spoke.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Carpenter,” he said, calmly. “That will be all.”
Jamie stared at the Security Officer, then slowly turned his head to look at Kate. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment and anger, and found that she couldn’t meet his pale blue gaze; she dropped her eyes to the table, ashamed.
“All right then,” said Jamie, slowly. “Thank you.”
Paul Turner got up and unlocked the interview room door. The Intelligence Division Operators reappeared; they began to disconnect Jamie from the monitoring equipment as Turner held the door open, waiting for Kate. She climbed slowly to her feet and exited the room, taking great care not to make eye contact with Jamie as she did so. The Security Officer stepped past her, held open the door to the ISAT lounge, then followed her inside.
“He’s clean,” said Turner, as soon as the door was closed behind them. “Who’s next?” His tone – businesslike, almost casual – was utterly maddening.
“What was that?” Kate asked.
Turner frowned. “What was what?”
“You know what,” she said, her voice rising. “That. All that stuff about his mother and Frankenstein. Why the hell did you bring all that up?”
Turner looked at her, and seemed to suddenly notice just how angry she was. His eyes widened and his expression softened.
“It wasn’t anything personal, Kate,” he said. “I know Lieutenant Carpenter and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I have no secret desire to torment him, I promise you. I know he doesn’t believe that, but it’s the truth.”
The Security Officer poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the desk, then poured a second and handed it to Kate. She took it without a word and waited for him to continue.
“ISAT isn’t only about finding out what people might have done in the past,” he said, lowering himself on to the sofa and sipping his coffee. “It’s also about the future. Part of the purpose of this project is to assess whether any Operator presents a potential security risk, and the questions I asked Jamie were with that purpose in mind. I don’t believe for a second that he is, was, or is ever likely to be a traitor. I never doubted he would pass his interview, and I’m glad he did. But his circumstances present possible opportunities for leverage and I had to investigate them. Tom Morris betrayed us because Alexandru was able to offer him something that was more important to him than Blacklight. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t actually deliver it. There are things that our enemies could offer Jamie that he might want, possibly desperately, and I needed to make it clear that we know what they are.”
“I get it, sir,” said Kate. “But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“I don’t either,” said Turner. “I warned you they would hate us for this, Kate. Did you think I was joking?”
“No,” she sighed. “I knew you weren’t.”
Turner looked closely at her. “We’ve got three more interviews before lunch,” he said. “Then e
ight more this afternoon. Once they’re done, I want you to take the evening off. And I mean off, you understand? Go to the mess, go for a run, go and get some sleep. Go and do anything you want, as long as it has nothing to do with all this. Now go and get your head straight; we start the next one in twenty minutes.”
Kate nodded and headed straight for the door. She was intending to head up to Level 0 and grab a few lungfuls of fresh air, perhaps even stretch her legs for a minute or two, so she let out an audible groan when the receptionist called her name as she laid her hand on the handle of the security door.
“Yes?” she said, turning back.
“Someone’s asking to see you,” said the Operator behind the desk, an apologetic look on his face. “I told her you were busy, but she wanted to wait. I’m sorry, Kate.”
“It’s OK,” she said, and forced a smile. “I’ll see her. I need a break anyway.”
On the level below, a dark figure crouched in the centre of room 261.
On the floor sat a plastic tub filled with a precise mixture of diesel and farm fertiliser, a combination familiar to terrorist groups throughout the world. Hanging from a metal tripod were the explosive charges of half a dozen hand grenades, carefully spaced and resting in the clear liquid. Wires ran from them to a simple trigger: a piece of copper on a hinge that would close an electrical circuit and allow current to pass into, and fire, the charges. The trigger was attached to a radio receiver; when it detected a particular aural input, it would wait three seconds, before closing the circuit.
The dark figure armed the device and turned on the receiver. Then it slipped silently out of the room and disappeared along the corridor.
Ninety minutes later the lift doors at one end of Level B slid open.
The corridor in front of her was long and curved, and it took several minutes to reach the door. She unlocked the door, then paused for a second, considering, not for the first time, what a strange series of turns her life had taken in the last few months.
She pushed the door inwards. Blinding white light filled her eyes, a tidal wave of heat and noise threw her backwards across the corridor, and everything went dark.
24
THE WAR ON DRUGS,
