One Life Remaining (Portal Book 2)

by Mark J Maxwell

  ‘Play it by ear. If the need arises, show them the server farm footage. It’ll make uncomfortable viewing for the NCA if they’ve already had the clan under surveillance.’

  ‘I don’t know, Simon. If I pull a stunt like this…’

  ‘I know. It’s a risk. But I think the only way you’re going to help Ben is by discovering who set the Red Flags. If they weren’t set to tip off the NCA when a clan member got picked up by the MET, then—’

  ‘They were there to protect Harrow.’

  Simon nodded.

  ‘Okay. I’ll do it.’ She sighed. ‘Even if it is my last ever act as a MET detective.’

  Simon grinned. ‘Don’t worry. If you get the boot I’ll give you a job.’

  Louisa laughed a little too hard. ‘You think I should work for you?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? Not so long ago we were a pretty good team.’

  Louisa’s next laugh caught in her throat. She became acutely aware he still held her hand.

  ‘Why did we call it quits, Louisa?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You and me. Do you ever think about giving it another go?’

  Louisa felt her cheeks heat up. ‘The decision was mutual. We both decided it was for the best.’

  ‘True.’ Simon nodded, solemn. ‘Sometimes I think it was the worst decision I’ve ever made.’

  Louisa attempted a smile. ‘I think they have you on too many painkillers.’

  ‘I’m not fooling around, Louisa. I’ve missed you.’

  Louisa took a shuddering breath. It was too much, seeing Simon like this again. Injured, vulnerable. ‘I’ve missed you too.’ It slipped out, but she meant it. A tear welled in the corner of her eye. She wiped it away before it fell.

  A knock on the glass wall startled her. The nurse was back. She tapped her watch.

  ‘I have to go.’ Louisa gently withdrew her hand. ‘We’ll talk after the COBRA meeting, okay?’

  ‘You know where to find me.’ Simon grinned. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Little more than an eggshell-blue box with a table and single chair, the SCD7 sense room was a cheaper variant of Portal’s sense booth. Her invite had come from Sir Stephen Cunningham, Chair of the Joint Intelligence Committee. Part of the Cabinet Office, the JIC had responsibility for reporting to the government on all intelligence related matters. The attached COBRA meeting protocols insisted on the sense room’s use. For security reasons, Louisa supposed. In a purely virtual environment it would be too easy for someone to impersonate an attendee with a mocked-up avatar. Or perhaps the Prime Minister wanted to ensure no one hid behind artificially emotionless features.

  Louisa took a deep breath and activated the link. The static environment resolved first, phasing in around her. Unadorned, magnolia walls, with her plain table replaced by a varnished mahogany version with seating for twenty. A nondescript meeting room which could have been in any building in London, except Louisa knew it was inside Whitehall.

  One by one the attendees winked into place. The Prime Minister and Stephen Cunningham first at the head of the table, then the four heads of the intelligence services together on one side. The Chief of the Defence Staff, Louisa’s own MET Commissioner and Louisa herself were seated opposite, with Louisa furthest away from the Prime Minister and Cunningham. Most nodded and smiled to known acquaintances. Louisa received a few inquisitive looks. She kept her eyes locked forward and did her best to pretend the scrutiny didn’t make her uncomfortable.

  Apart from the Prime Minister, Louisa was the only woman in the room. Anne Leahey wore a smart graphite business suit, with her brown hair cut in a tight bob. The PM’s party had been safely voted into power for the second time two years previously, their majority only slightly dented by the furore surrounding the Portal leaks. In her newscast interviews the PM projected an authoritative yet personable persona, which resonated well with the electorate. As she surveyed the room with a flinty eye Louisa got the distinct feeling her friendly side was all for show.

  Prior to the meeting the PM released a brief statement. She condemned the bombing. Her thoughts were with the families of those killed and injured. She went on to say that so far no one had claimed responsibility for the attack, and finished with a determined resolution to arrest those responsible and ensure they face British justice. Portal feeds were rife with theories on who could have carried it out. They ranged from pro-privacy campaigners to foreign intelligence agencies. Some feared the attack represented the first salvo in a new terrorism campaign against Britain. Portal’s expansion talks in the Middle East were held up as the cause. Foreign opposition to the network’s expansion was growing, and newscast commentators believed Portal would face harsh opposition if they deployed the network anywhere in the region.

  Stephen Cunningham cleared his throat. ‘First of all I’d like to thank everyone for attending. We’ll skip round-the-table introductions, as everyone was present for the last meeting. The one exception is Detective Inspector Louisa Bennett, who is here by request from Simon Carlyle, the Portal CEO.’

  Every head swivelled to face Louisa. She returned a nod from the MET Commissioner, Sir Gavin Brown. He held her eyes long enough for a bead of sweat to trickle down her back. She received his message loud and clear. Know your place. Don’t embarrass me.

  The commissioner didn’t need to intimidate her into remaining silent. The presence of the other attendees was more than enough. Every man in the room had received a knighthood soon after taking their position. Sir Lane Simmons (MI6 Chief); Sir David Jakes (MI5 Director General); Sir Terrence Richardson (NCA Director General); Sir Peter Wells (GCHQ Director); and General Sir Francis Cartwright (Armed Forces Chief). She wondered if everyone would expect to be addressed by their formal titles. If so, it’s going to be a long meeting.

  ‘Terry,’ the Prime Minister said to the NCA Director, ‘I understand you already have an operation in play. Perhaps you’d be so good as to give us a breakdown of the situation as you see it.’

  Louisa hid a smile with her hand. Somehow I don’t think I’ll get away with calling him Terry.

  The NCA Director nodded. ‘Certainly, Prime Minister.’ A screen appeared on the wall to Louisa’s left. ‘The bomber’s name was Henry Booth.’ A picture of Henry appeared. If the attendees were shocked at how young he looked, they kept it to themselves. ‘We don’t believe he acted alone. He belonged to a Multiverse gaming clan called the Sons of Babel.’ The clan’s badge appeared on the screen next to Henry. ‘It is this group who we believe are responsible for the bombing. They are relatively small, with fourteen members in total. All British nationals.’ The NCA head hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. ‘The group were on our radar, Prime Minister. But we didn’t believe them a threat to national security until one of their members was apprehended attempting to purchase a quantity of arms two days ago. I’m sorry to say we were unable to track them down before they attacked the Portal offices. For that, Prime Minister, I accept full responsibility.’

  ‘David,’ the Prime Minister turned her attention to the MI5 Director, ‘why did a British teenager blow himself up in my capital? No, more importantly, why didn’t we know a British teenager was planning on blowing himself up?’

  The MI5 Director shifted in his seat. ‘Ah, Prime Minister, we were aware certain clans within the Multiverse gaming network were anti-Portal. However we possessed no intelligence whatsoever to indicate they posed a threat.’

  If the MI5 Director was being honest, his agency had been blindsided by the attack. It was no wonder he was squirming. But if GCHQ knew about the Multiverse selectors Worrell tripped, then why didn’t MI5?

  The PM waved her hand. ‘There’ll be time enough to examine how they slipped through the net later. Right now I want them neutralised. Terry, when can we expect to have them in custody?’

  ‘We’ve executed history graphs on all known members,’ the NCA chief said, ‘and we’re questioning their family m
embers and acquaintances as we speak. As yet we have no solid leads on their current locations. We believe they’ve gone to ground.’

  ‘What you’re telling me is we don’t know where the perpetrators are, or if they’re planning another attack?’

  ‘Currently, no, Prime Minister. But working with the MET Commissioner we’ve increased security at all Portal offices and facilities. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the clan stick their heads above the parapet, and when they do I’m confident we’ll apprehend them.’ The NCA Director paused. ‘Prime Minister, I would like to request authorisation to use pre-emptive lethal force when we confront the terrorists.’

  ‘You want me to sign off on a shoot to kill policy?’ Her icy tone sliced through the tense atmosphere in the room. ‘On British citizens? On British soil?’

  Louisa gripped the chair’s arms. It was only the Prime Minister’s reaction which prevented her from demanding his request be refused. It was the one thing Louisa didn’t want, the NCA launching themselves at the clan, guns blazing.

  To the NCA Director’s credit he didn’t wither under her disapproval. ‘I believe it may be warranted, Prime Minister. Henry Booth wore a suicide vest which he self-detonated using a handheld trigger. Primitive admittedly, but deadly.’ He glanced at Louisa. ‘Inspector Bennett was present at the scene. Perhaps, Inspector, you can provide us with a summary of events?’

  Louisa wished she’d brought a glass of water into the room with her. She didn’t think she’d be called on to speak. ‘Certainly, sir. I was sitting in the Portal lobby when I noticed Henry Booth acting suspiciously. He reached into his jacket and I caught sight of a wire dangling free. At that point I realised he was a potential threat. I drew my weapon, announced my presence, and requested he lower himself to the ground. He then detonated the bomb.’

  ‘If you had shot the suspect upon realising the threat do you believe the detonation could have been prevented?’

  Louisa hesitated. It was obvious where he was going with his line of questioning. ‘It depends, sir, there are a number of factors―’

  ‘A simple yes or no, Inspector, based on your years of experience and first hand knowledge of the scene.’

  Again Louisa hesitated.

  ‘Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Thank you, Inspector.’ He turned back to the PM, who glanced to her right at Stephen Cunningham. The JIC Chair remained poker-faced.

  Louisa clenched her jaw. She had to do something. ‘Perhaps a less heavy-handed approach may be warranted, Prime Minister?’ She spread her hands. ‘Given the nature of the clan’s membership...’ Louisa’s throat was bone dry, but the MET Commissioner’s eyes burning into her caused her to falter.

  ‘Please continue, Inspector,’ the Prime Minister said.

  Louisa took a breath. ‘Henry Booth was seventeen years old, Prime Minister. Do we know how many other members of the clan are children?’

  The Prime Minister turned to the NCA Director. ‘Well, Terry?’

  The NCA Director glared at Louisa. ‘We are confident there are no other minors amongst the clan’s membership.’

  Stephen Cunningham leaned over to the Prime Minster and whispered in her ear. Louisa hoped she’d done enough to give them pause. Dealing with a group of terrorists was one thing, but the idea of children being gunned down on the streets, whether they had explosives strapped to them or not, wasn’t going to play well with the public.

  ‘It may be the case, Inspector,’ the NCA Director spoke up, ‘that in this instance your judgement may be clouded. Perhaps, on the basis of full disclosure, you should reveal your own personal ties to the terrorists.’

  Louisa’s heart sank. Of course Drew would have revealed Ben’s involvement to his superiors.

  The PM looked at her expectantly. Even though her credibility would be shot to pieces, she had no option but to come clean. ‘I discovered yesterday that a boy I fostered has become involved with the clan. But as far as I’m aware he only joined them two weeks ago.’

  The NCA Director nodded. ‘Ben Kingston, an adult, is one of the clan members who remains at large.’ He paused for a moment. When he continued, his tone was more at ease. ‘I think we need to consider what we’re dealing with here. This is a well organised, home grown terrorist threat. They’ve recruited from the educated middle class using the Multiverse game network. Once the public learns the Sons of Babel carried out the bombing, the clan will have a pool of thirty million active Multiverse players to draw on as potential recruits. We need to act decisively to end this threat before the situation spirals out of our control.’

  The PM interlocked her fingers and bowed her head. The NCA Director sat back with a satisfied expression. He thinks he’s done enough to convince her. Louisa wondered at the scant details the NCA Director had provided on the clan. They must possess more intelligence on them by now. Especially if the intelligence services were aiding them. So why weren’t they relaying their findings to the Prime Minister? Was this how things worked? Perhaps the Prime Minister preferred her briefings simplified, so she would have plausible deniability later on. Somehow, though, Louisa didn’t think Anne Leahey was the kind of woman who wanted to be kept in the dark. Then there was Spencer Harrow. The Prophet. The driving force behind the clan. Why hadn’t the NCA Director mentioned him?

  The silence stretched out. Louisa had one card left to throw on the table. More of a live grenade actually, but she had little choice. ‘Prime Minister. Simon Carlyle provided me with intelligence related to the clan. If I may, could I present it to the meeting?’

  ‘Certainly, Inspector,’ the Prime Minister said.

  ‘Several months ago there was a break-in at a Portal server farm.’ Louisa accessed the meeting interface and shared out the link Simon sent her. The footage appeared on the wall and started playing. ‘As you can see, one of the men who broke into the Portal facility is Henry Booth. The other we identified during the operation mentioned by Director Richardson as Killian Baker.’

  ‘Both of whom are now deceased,’ the NCA Director said.

  ‘Simon Carlyle also has information relating to a clan member who remains at large. A former Portal employee. Spencer Harrow.’

  The Prime Minister frowned. ‘A Portal employee, you said?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Mr Carlyle was forced to fire him after he discovered Harrow was conducting illegal human clinical trials.’

  There was a collective intake of breath around the room. Their reaction was understandable. The fallout after Benoit Walsh’s arrest hadn’t just harmed Portal; it had threatened the political system which backed the company. Anne Leahy gave a guarantee her government would move swiftly to, as she said at the time, rip the rot from Portal’s core. If the public learned of more illegal experiments being carried out under the Prime Minister’s watch the backlash would touch her personally.

  ‘Did Simon report this at the time?’ the Prime Minister asked.

  Louisa glanced at the MET Commissioner. Here comes the career-wrecking part.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A Portal employee passed the footage to the MET and a case file was opened.’

  ‘Gavin?’ the Prime Minister said.

  The commissioner shot daggers at Louisa. ‘Ah, one moment, Prime Minister. With your permission, I’ll check our Subnet for the case file.’

  ‘Please, do.’

  The commissioner closed his eyes. After a few moments he opened them again. His expression softened with relief. ‘The case file was appropriated by the NCA, Prime Minister. They took over the investigation.’

  The Prime Minister turned to the NCA Director. ‘Terry?’

  ‘Hmm.’ The NCA Director appeared to be considering the matter. ‘Yes, I do believe we received a case file concerning Spencer Harrow. We even went so far as to assign a Red Flag to his Portal profile. Obviously the bombing has lent this intelligence a new significance.’ He turned to Louisa. ‘Thank you, Inspector, for bringing this to my attention.’
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br />   Louisa nodded, suddenly glad she wasn’t really in the room with the man. ‘You’re welcome, Director.’

  ‘If I may, Prime Minister,’ the MI6 Director spoke up.

  The Prime Minister nodded for him to continue.

  ‘If we end up confronting another potential suicide bomber, I don’t believe we want any MET or NCA officers exposed to the same threat Inspector Bennett faced. I believe Director Richardson’s request to be pertinent, given our precarious situation.’

  Louisa had purposely refrained from making eye contact with Lane Simmons. As head of MI6 he must surely have known she was present when Simon shot and killed Kane Shepherd, the MI6 agent who’d been sent to kill her. Perhaps even on the orders of Lane Simmons himself. She hadn’t had any association with MI6 since her conversation with one of their agents at Claire Harris’ funeral, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  ‘David, Peter, Frank,’ the Prime Minister eyed each of the men in turn, ‘you are all unusually reticent. Do you have a contribution?’

  ‘I concur with Director Simmons,’ the GCHQ Director said. His MI5 counterpart nodded in agreement.

  ‘The armed forces stand ready as always, Prime Minister,’ the Defence Staff Chief said. ‘We have experience dealing with similar acts of terrorism carried out by insurgents in the Middle East. Just say the word, we can deploy within the hour.’

  The Prime Minister shook her head, a look of horror crossing her face. ‘Thank you, General, however I believe deploying soldiers onto the streets of the capital would be a definite last resort.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Okay, gentlemen, and Inspector, I’m not going to take up any more of your time. I will not give a carte blanche approval for lethal force to be used against any British citizen. If possible, I want these terrorists taken alive.’ She held up her hand when the NCA Director opened his mouth to protest. ‘However, if there is a clear threat to the public or to members of the security forces, lethal force is an option, and the authorisation can come from an officer of inspector rank or higher at the scene.’