Deep Trouble

by Rob Stevens

  ‘Who is she?’ Archie wondered aloud.

  ‘She’s someone the MI6 Threat Assessment Group – or TAG for short – has identified as posing a significant threat to Toby Winchester’s safety at this weekend’s Student Games.’

  ‘I thought this was just a routine surveillance detail?’ Agent X-ray queried.

  Highwater sucked her teeth. ‘Up until twenty-four hours ago it was,’ she said. ‘But new information puts a different slant on things.’

  Holden Grey stepped forward and tapped the TV monitor. ‘The woman before you is Miss Tension. First name Evelyn.’

  ‘But who is she?’ asked Gemma, crossing her arms resolutely.

  ‘Before I answer that,’ said Highwater, ‘I want you to take a careful look at these people and tell me what you think they have in common.’

  The three young agents watched as a series of photographs flashed up on the monitor. The four new images were of an old lady in a rain mac, a young Chinese nurse, a teenage boy and a paunchy middle-aged businessman.

  ‘Do they all know Evelyn Tension?’ asked Archie.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Highwater.

  ‘Are they all related to her?’ Gemma wondered.

  ‘In a way,’ said Grey.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Barney whooped. ‘They are all Miss Tension.’

  ‘Seriously, Barney!’ Archie snorted. ‘She can’t be the same size as a teenage boy and a fifteen-stone man!’

  Barney sighed with exasperation. ‘Have you ever heard of a fat suit or watched Mission Impossible? At the beginning of the film this old Russian dude persuades a baddie to tell him the name of his big boss. Then the Russian guy pulls off his rubber mask and, boom, he’s Tom Cruise.’

  ‘Er, hello?’ mocked Gemma. ‘You do know that was only a movie, right? Tom Cruise is an actor. You see, what happens is someone makes up a story, then actors pretend to be the characters in the story and somebody else films it. The trick is that none of it is real – it’s all just pretend.’

  Gemma and Barney exchanged sarcastic smiles.

  Highwater’s voice interrupted their face-off. ‘Agent X-ray, have you heard of the expression Truth is stranger than fiction?’

  ‘Of course,’ Gemma replied defensively.

  ‘Never has that phrase been more appropriate than in this case,’ said Highwater, raising her eyebrows. ‘It appears Agent Zulu’s encyclopedic knowledge of fictional spy facts has given him an instinctive edge.’

  ‘When it comes to spies Barney knows every trick in every book,’ Archie added, slapping his friend on the back. ‘And every trick in every movie or TV show. That’s why he’s such an invaluable member of STINKBOMB.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right.’ Highwater clicked her fingers. ‘I knew there had to be some reason he was on the team.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Gemma, holding up both palms. ‘Are you telling me that all those pictures were the same woman?’

  ‘Yes, we believe every single person is Miss Tension,’ said Highwater.

  ‘You could ask anyone in Interpol or MI6 or the CIA,’ suggested Grey. Very few would dispute that she is the, er, undisputed queen of disguise.’

  ‘Who is she though?’ asked Archie.

  Helen Highwater drew a sheet of A4 paper from an envelope, slid on her spectacles and striding up and down in front of her audience, read out what was written on the paper.

  ‘Evelyn Tension was educated at Marlborough College and Cambridge University, where she studied Marine Physics, before going on to earn her PhD with a paper entitled “Sustaining Human Life in Sub-Marine Habitats”. During her time in Cambridge Miss Tension was recruited by Her Majesty’s Secret Services.’

  ‘As I suspected.’ Barney nodded knowingly.

  ‘After a few years as an agent she volunteered to join MI6’s elite undercover team – known as the Scalpel Unit,’ said Highwater flatly. ‘She passed the selection process with ease and soon she was a highly trained Scalpel. Her job was to cleanly and clinically remove or eliminate certain parasites.’

  Barney drew in breath sharply and whispered, ‘She was a Nikita.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Gemma demanded.

  ‘You know, like an assassin.’

  ‘No, Agent Zulu, she was not like an assassin,’ Highwater barked. Gemma sniggered. ‘She was an assassin.’ Gemma’s amusement suddenly dispersed. ‘Not only was Tension a cold-blooded, ruthless killer,’ Highwater continued, ‘she also taught herself to be an absolute master of disguise. Her ability to maintain her cover under the closest scrutiny meant she was MI6’s number one choice for Top Secret kill-or-capture missions.’

  Archie thought he could hear his own heart beating in the silence that followed Highwater’s bombshell. Who did she k-kill?’ he stammered at last.

  ‘Bad guys.’ Highwater shrugged. ‘They were mostly enemy assassins but her targets varied – anyone from a Kenyan diplomat who was secretly planning a terrorist attack, to the infamous Klaus Von Grosskopf, the German robotics professor who was planning to blow up Buckingham Palace with an animatronic Corgi.’

  ‘Couldn’t these people have just been . . . arrested?’ Archie asked, feeling a little sick.

  ‘Agent Yankee,’ Highwater sighed. ‘Scalpel Units are only employed in exceptional circumstances – i.e. when time is too short to stop and ask questions or when dealing with individuals who operate beyond the reach of normal law enforcement channels.’

  ‘Why do you suspect she’s gone rogue?’ asked Barney.

  ‘It came to our knowledge that she was moonlighting,’ explained Holden Grey. ‘She was selling her services to the highest bidder.’

  ‘You mean, she was, like, a hitman?’ Gemma gasped.

  ‘A contract killer – exactly,’ Highwater said with disdain, picking some fluff off her lapel. ‘She didn’t care who the target was, or who wanted them killed, as long as she got paid handsomely.’

  ‘MI6 grew suspicious when two influential Greek businessmen died in a car crash in Corfu,’ Highwater said. ‘At the time Evelyn Tension was on holiday – sailing round the Greek islands.’

  ‘Why didn’t you bring her in?’ asked Gemma.

  ‘We tried,’ said Grey wearily. ‘But she kept giving us the slip. Besides which we could never prove she was responsible. She was a highly trained professional Scalpel – it was her job to make every hit look like an accident.’

  ‘Things came to a head by chance five years ago,’ Highwater continued. ‘While on a family cruise, an MI6 agent noticed a fellow passenger acting suspiciously. After monitoring the suspect our agent discovered the passenger was planning to sink the liner in the middle of the Pacific. The agent reported their discovery to HQ – just in case the saboteur was working on an undercover mission. The Secret Service had no personnel on duty on the ship so the Prime Minister ordered an intervention. The hijacker turned out to be Agent Tension. We believe she had been contracted by a foreign gangland boss to assassinate an off-duty police chief who was close to busting his drug-running cartel – something she planned to do by blowing up the whole ship.’

  ‘But she would have killed hundreds of innocent people,’ Gemma said with outrage.

  ‘Thousands, probably,’ Highwater nodded. ‘Luckily our operative acted promptly. However, as the agent attempted to restrain Miss Tension a struggle broke out, during which Agent Tension was thrown overboard. A body was never recovered but we presumed she had drowned.’ Highwater paused and pressed the remote control again. A document appeared on the monitor. ‘Until this letter was delivered to the PM yesterday at oh-seven-hundred hours.’

  Archie focused on the detail of the text, his mind subconsciously noting the pale blue cartridge paper, on which the lettering had been inscribed using blue-black ink and a fine nib.

  Wow,’ Barney exhaled. ‘I’d say she has a few issues.’

  ‘I’d say she’s a few letters short of a cipher,’ Gemma added.

  ‘What does she mean when she says she lost everything she held dear?�
�� Archie asked, still studying the letter.

  ‘Members of the Scalpel Unit are forbidden from forming relationships,’ Highwater explained. ‘They have to cut ties with their families and friends. In a sense they operate like robots, going from mission to mission following orders, devoid of emotional attachments. They give up everything.’

  ‘No wonder she’s feeling a bit hacked off,’ Archie muttered.

  ‘What did you say, Agent Yankee?’ Highwater barked.

  Archie shrugged uneasily, sensing he was on shaky ground. ‘I just mean it must be pretty rubbish to lose all contact with your family and have no mates. It sounds like she did a lot of the government’s dirty work for years. She obviously got greedy or went crazy or something but, looking at it from her point of view, I almost . . . feel . . . sorry for her.’

  ‘And I’m sorry you’re troubled by the Secret Service’s “dirty” tactics,’ Highwater said in an arctic whisper, miming air quotes. She was standing in front of Archie, her nose just inches from his. ‘But unfortunately the business of protecting our country is not always a pleasant one. Good people have to do bad things. That’s life. One day, as a STINKBOMB agent, you may be called upon to sacrifice someone close to you in order to protect national security. I trust, when that time comes, you can be relied upon to carry out your duty?’

  Archie nodded slowly, suppressing a tremor in his right leg. ‘Yes, IC.’

  ‘The Scalpel Unit’s missions are extremely dangerous,’ continued Highwater. ‘Scalpel agents are required to operate as ruthless clinical machines. Emotional ties are a luxury they can’t afford. But they are all willing volunteers who choose to join this elite black-ops unit. And thank heavens they do because the national security of our nation depends on them.’

  Archie said nothing for a moment, considering what sort of person would willingly give up their family – give up everything – to protect their country. He wondered if he would be so committed if push came to shove.

  After a while he said, ‘So how’s Tension plotting to get back at the PM?’

  ‘Good question,’ said Grey. ‘Right now MI6 is pursuing several theoretical . . . theories at this time—’

  ‘The one we’re most concerned with,’ Highwater interrupted, ‘is the possibility that she’s planning to target the Prime Minister’s family. Having lost touch with her own parents when she joined the Scalpel Unit, we believe Tension may want to inflict the same ordeal on Mr Winchester.’

  ‘Are his parents attending the competition tomorrow?’ asked Gemma.

  Highwater shook her head. ‘The Prime Minister’s parents both passed away some time ago and his wife is in Canada on an official visit, already under close guard as part of this operation. Tomorrow, as briefed, you will all be concerned with surveying and protecting the Prime Minister’s son, Toby. Your orders remain unchanged but this letter raises the stakes immeasurably. What was a routine operation now carries a substantial and credible threat. Does anybody have any questions?’

  ‘Are you invoking a Level Alpha-Three protocol?’ Barney enquired. ‘Or are you going with tac-teams running purple ops?’

  ‘Let me rephrase.’ Highwater’s eyes lingered on Barney for a moment. ‘Does anybody have any sensible questions?’

  ‘What exactly do you think Tension might be planning to do at the games?’ Archie asked quietly.

  ‘Worst-case scenario?’ Helen Highwater removed her glasses and made eye contact with each agent in turn. ‘We believe Evelyn Tension is planning to kill Toby Winchester.’

  Archie could hear the squishy beat of blood in his eardrums and feel it throbbing in his temples. He looked at Barney and Gemma, who both seemed as stunned as he was by Highwater’s bombshell.

  ‘So Agent Tension is a trained assassin,’ he said weakly. ‘Not only is she adept at dispatching dangerous criminals using numerous ingenious, yet lethal, methods but also she’s a master of disguise so she’ll be impossible to identify. And you want us to stop her bumping off Toby Winchester?’

  ‘Precisely,’ Highwater replied.

  ‘Easy-peasy,’ said Archie under his breath. ‘Maybe we should do it blindfolded just to give ourselves a challenge.’

  ‘I know it sounds daunting, Agent Yankee,’ Highwater said. ‘But don’t forget the sports stadium will be crawling with scores of Personal Protection Officers as well as undercover MI5 and 6 agents. They’ll be ready to intervene and apprehend so it’s not like you’ll be expected to tackle Agent Tension yourselves.

  ‘Obviously you will monitor Toby closely but he will be accompanied by his bodyguard at all times. Even when he’s in the ring, his PPO will be in his corner. Your primary job, Yankee, is to mix with the other competitors – scrutinise them up close. If Tension is planning to strike she could do so disguised as an old lady or a teenage boxer. Everyone is a suspect. If you notice anyone in that arena acting suspiciously, then you report it to me immediately. I’ll be with the Mobile Surveillance Unit parked outside the venue, along with Huge Ego, I mean Hugh Figo, and a senior officer from the Metropolitan Police. We’ll assimilate all intelligence from the field and coordinate the entire operation.’

  ‘Doesn’t Huge Ego want us to fall on our faces though?’ Gemma demanded, planting her hands on her hips. ‘He thought it was a bad idea to use kids as agents from the beginning and he can’t wait for STINKBOMB to fail so he can say I told you so.’

  Helen Highwater hesitated. In truth she shared Agent X-ray’s mistrust of her boss but she was obliged to follow operational protocol and Hugh Figo was her immediate superior. ‘I think Mr Figo views STINKBOMB in an altogether more positive light after your successful inaugural mission,’ she said, managing a reassuring smile. ‘And, if we fail to protect Toby Winchester tomorrow, Figo’s neck will be on the line just as much as ours.’

  Archie nodded as he digested the news in silence. The stakes couldn’t be much higher for their second mission. ‘I feel sick,’ he whispered.

  ‘Me too,’ Barney agreed – his words strangely garbled. Archie turned and saw that his friend was feeding the last two inches of a Snickers bar into his already overstuffed mouth.

  ‘No wonder you feel sick!’ Archie smirked.

  Barney shrugged, pushing the chocolate to the inside of his cheek, like a giant hamster. ‘The only way to deal with nausea is to feed it,’ he explained, flicking his balled-up wrapper into Archie’s face.

  ‘That’s enough joking around,’ Highwater barked. ‘I understand you’re all excited and anxious about Operation Gumshield but it is of utmost importance that you pay attention to Mr Grey for the next few minutes. He’s about to brief you on the equipment you’ll be allocated.’

  ‘Follow me, agents.’ Holden Grey strode to the workshop at the far end of the room and positioned himself behind the long wooden bench.

  ‘Here come the gadgets,’ Barney whispered excitedly.

  Holden Grey placed three slender black mobile phones on the bench. Archie, Barney and Gemma exchanged looks of concern.

  ‘Er, I don’t want to spoil the party,’ said Gemma, ‘but we’ve all seen an iPhone before.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, Agent X-ray.’ Holden Grey’s pencil-thin moustache twitched as he stifled his grin. ‘But these are not iPhones. I have personally myself made certain modifications to the factory fit on these particular devices. What you are looking at is what I like to call the spiPhone.’

  Holden Grey picked up one of the phones and switched it on. A ripple of intrigue animated the three agents.

  ‘I have implanted a tiny radio transmitter into each device that will transmit on a dedicated FM frequency,’ explained Grey. ‘This will allow IC and the surveillance team to monitor the position of your exact locations at all times during the operation. Also, in addition, you will be able to stay in touch with each other by using the transmitter in conjunction with these standard issue two-way earpieces. And, finally, I have adapted the spiPhone’s camera by fitting its flash with an ultra-high-frequency particle
oscillator.’

  ‘Un-believable,’ Barney cooed. Then his wide eyes narrowed. ‘What does that mean?’

  Grey smiled kindly. ‘When it’s enabled, this function vibrates the molecules in whatever solid object the camera is pointed at. Within a few nanoseconds all the particles will be aligned and oscillating in time.’ The old man watched his audience expectantly.

  ‘Then what, Mr Grey?’ Gemma asked, turning her palms upward.

  ‘Imagine the molecules are a pile of spaghetti,’ Grey suggested. ‘When they are all tangled up they make a great solid mass obliterating the plate, right? But what if they were all straightened out and spaced at regular intervals?’

  ‘You’d be able to see the plate?’ Archie suggested with a note of disbelief.

  ‘Clever boy!’ Holden Grey snapped his fingers.

  ‘Are you saying that with the spiPhone we will be able to see through solid objects?’

  ‘Not with the naked eye, young man,’ Grey said. ‘Even though the spaghetti is lined up it’s still vibrating at an incredibly high frequency. But if you were to take a snapshot at any time, with say a high-speed camera –’ he tapped the handset he was holding – ‘then you would be able to see through the object.’

  Archie shook his head slowly in awe while Barney’s eyes were bulging and his mouth hung slightly open so it was left to Gemma to speak. ‘So you’ve, like, invented an actual X-ray camera?’

  Holden Grey puffed out his chest and smiled. ‘Correct.’

  ‘So we can point it at walls and stuff and it’ll take a picture of what’s on the other side?’ asked Archie, still shaking his head in awe.

  Grey pursed his lips. ‘Not exactly. I haven’t quite perfected the beam,’ he confessed. ‘There are still some materials that remain impervious to the effects of the high-frequency particle oscillator.’

  ‘When you say some materials . . .’ Archie prompted. ‘Which ones do you mean?’

  ‘Oh let me think . . . the camera can’t see through brick for a start. Nor cement, stone, plasterboard, or wood. And it can’t see through metals. It also can’t see through fibreglass, enamel, plastic, natural or man-made fabrics, earth, sand, slate, marble, leather, fur or any fluids.’