by Rob Stevens
‘OK, team’ Highwater announced. ‘Who fancies a game of Spot the Diference?’
Everyone gathered around the laptop, frowning in concentration at the photographs, but no matter how hard they tried no one could see anything obviously different.
‘This is impossible,’ Barney complained. ‘The dudes are identical.’
‘There must be something,’ Grey encouraged. ‘There’s always something.’
‘Wait!’ Gemma yelped. Pushing between Archie and Barney she clicked away at the mouse, enlarging two pictures so that they filled the screen.
‘Look!’ she said, zooming in on the Prime Minister’s wrist in each shot. ‘Checkout his watch. What’s diferent?’
‘Bingo,’ Barney said immediately. ‘His watch says it’s twelve o’clock in this picture but ten past twelve in this one.’
‘I’m pretty sure that’s because you took the pictures ten minutes apart,’ Archie suggested gently.
‘How about his watch being on his left wrist in this one –’ Gemma tapped the screen with her fingernail – ‘but on the right in this one?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Barney blustered. ‘I thought you meant what’s different about it apart from obviously being on different wrists.’
‘There isn’t any doubt now.’ Archie clenched his fists. ‘There’s no way the PM would have washed off his old aftershave, sprayed on a new one and swapped his watch over while visiting Toby in the medical bay. The guy the Secret Service ushered out of here was definitely an impostor.’
Holden Grey massaged his forehead. ‘We’d better call Mr Figo and give him a heads-up with the low-down.’
‘I agree,’ said Highwater. ‘But first we need to be clear about the sequence of events and have watertight evidence. Figo will tear open any holes in our theory.’
‘First of all, the Pravin Malik who KO’d Toby Winchester was a fake,’ Archie stated. ‘The real Malik was replaced by someone with some sort of mechanical arm after the police had questioned him – possibly Tension herself. I think the impersonator was waiting inside Malik’s locker and jumped him when he went to get his gloves. The real Malik was bundled into his locker so that the impostor could knock out the Prime Minister’s son with her bionic fist.’
‘I reckon Doctor Thomas has been fake all along,’ offered Gemma.
Archie nodded. ‘When Toby was floored, two St John’s guys carried him into the examination room but only the bald one came out. The curly-haired one stayed in the room and must have been in on it too. When the Prime Minister went in to see his son, the phoney doctor and the ambulance man must have overpowered him with a sedative and then hidden him in the room.’
‘What about Toby Winchester?’ Gemma asked. ‘Is there a chance he was switched as well?’
‘Good question, X-ray,’ Grey replied. ‘I’ll call the hospital and get them to run a DNA analysis on Toby’s blood.’
‘So,’ Highwater announced firmly. ‘It certainly appears that the paramedic swapped clothes with the PM and came out wearing a highly sophisticated Adam Winchester mask. If we’re right and he is currently masquerading as the Prime Minister, then Evelyn Tension is effectively controlling the whole country.’
‘Figo’s going to ask what happened to the real PM,’ Barney added, making out like he already knew the answer.
‘This,’ said Gemma emphatically, turning her laptop so the others could see the screen. ‘It’s CCTV footage from the corridor outside the medical bay, taken about half an hour after the fake Adam Winchester left the Dome and Toby had been taken to hospital.’
The grainy picture showed two figures wearing the fluorescent jackets of games officials leaving the medical bay. Walking closely side by side, the pair left the arena via the southern entrance, their heads covered by woollen hats.
‘Where did they get the clothes from?’ asked Archie.
‘Doctor Thomas could have had all sorts of disguises hidden inside his fat suit,’ Grey suggested. ‘I’d wager he was also packing a piece which he jammed into the PM’s ribs when he freely marched him out of here unhindered.’
‘X-ray,’ barked Highwater. ‘I want you to track those two figures on the surveillance cameras. I want to know where they went when they left this building.’
‘I’m on it,’ Gemma replied, her fingers purring over her keyboard.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ Archie muttered. ‘How did they change their disguises so quickly? The door to the examination room was only closed for about three minutes but we’re saying that was enough time for that paramedic to remove his clothes and wig, dress up as the PM and put on a mask that was so realistic the world’s press and the entire Secret Service didn’t spot he’s a fake. It’s impossible.’
‘Not with a Face-mapping-quick-drying-liquid-latex-mask-gun,’ Highwater said grimly.
‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Barney, nodding knowingly. ‘It’s the only explanation, in my book.’
‘Which book is that?’ Gemma muttered, keeping her eyes trained on her laptop screen. ‘The Bumper Book of Spy Dot-to-Dot?’
‘What is a face-drying-mask-mapping-thingamy anyway?’ Archie asked.
‘Face-mapping-quick-drying-liquid-latex-mask-gun,’ Holden Grey corrected. ‘The idea has been floating about Tech Branch for decades but no one had ever perfected the technology to make it work. It’s a handheld device not dissimilar to the portable scanners they use in supermarkets.’
‘That’s right,’ Highwater continued, ‘but instead of scanning a barcode you use it to scan a human face – memorising every contour and every blemish. Then you point the device at someone else and spray their face with a thin film of quick-drying latex that exactly replicates the first person’s features.’
‘Narmsayin?’ Grey cut in. ‘MI6 built a prototype about ten years ago but it never quite hit the spot. Project Gemini was finally shelved about six years ago which, come to think of it, was about the time Agent Tension went AWOL without leave.’
‘So you think Evelyn Tension has perfected the mask-gun?’ Archie asked.
‘It’s distinctly possible,’ Highwater surmised, tapping a pen against her teeth. ‘If she managed to hack into the Tech Branch project files she could have stolen the blueprint for the mask-gun and someone with her IQ could have ironed out the flaws in the design. It would also explain why she’s been able to so effectively elude MI6 for so long.’
‘If she has,’ said Archie, ‘is it plausible that she could use it to masquerade as the Prime Minister?’
‘Absolutely.’ Highwater nodded grimly. ‘She could masqueradeasanyoneshechooses.Mappingsomeone’s face is as simple as taking a photograph and the mask takes seconds to apply. X-ray, any luck tracking down the suspects from the medical bay?’
Gemma’s mouth pulled to one side and she shook her head. ‘I lost them in the crowd – there’s thousands of people out there. They could be anywhere by now.’
‘Keep looking!’ Highwater snapped. ‘They must not be allowed to escape!’
Everyone gathered behind Gemma, studying the surveillance footage from security cameras at the O2.
‘How many cameras are there?’ Barney asked.
‘Hundreds,’ Gemma answered gruffly. ‘Literally hundreds.’
‘If I was her I’d head for the tube,’ Barney offered. ‘Or the airport. Then again, maybe she’ll trick us by staying on foot.’
Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘Well, thanks for narrowing it down, Zulu.’
‘She must be long gone by now,’ Archie sighed. ‘Once she had the PM she’d have scarpered faster than you can say “Speedboat down the Thames”.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Gemma muttered.
Archie felt suddenly awkward. ‘I’m not really sure,’ he admitted. ‘It just sounded cool when you said it earlier.’
‘Who? Me?’
‘Yeah. When you came into the changing rooms, remember? I was recovering from my bout and you said if we didn’t stop Tension s
oon she’d escape faster than I could say “Speedboat down the Thames”.’
‘You were hallucinating, clearly,’ Gemma mumbled, leaning closer to the screen to study a particular person. ‘I never saw you in the changing rooms.’
‘Yes you did,’ Archie laughed. ‘You were doing a routine sw—’ Archie didn’t finish his sentence. He felt like someone had pressed a cold blade against his spine. The hairs all over his body were standing upright.
Gemma stopped typing and turned to look at him. Barney, Highwater and Grey waited in silence.
‘If it wasn’t you,’ Archie concluded in a whisper. ‘It must have been Evelyn Tension.’
‘Or, indeed, one of her accomplices,’ Highwater added.
‘But how did she map Gemma’s face?’ Archie asked.
‘The journalist who collared us when we arrived.’ Barney clapped his hands loudly. ‘He wasn’t taking our pictures at all – he was mapping our faces.’
‘And our voices, probably,’ Gemma suggested.
‘Tension probably went straight to Malik’s locker to hide,’ said Archie, excitedly adjusting his glasses. ‘I closed my eyes and heard the door shut but I didn’t actually see her leave. But she could have sneaked into the locker without me seeing her. Why bother even talking to me?’
‘Because odious masterminds like Evelyn Tension can’t resist showing off how clever they are,’ Barney marvelled. ‘Her scheme was probably going so smoothly she wanted to inject a bit of danger.’
‘By talking to a concussed twelve-year-old?’ Gemma scoffed. ‘No offence, Archie, but you weren’t exactly much of a threat at the time.’
‘That wasn’t the risk she was taking,’ Archie exclaimed. ‘The dangerous part was telling us how she planned to escape.’
‘Speedboat down the Thames,’ Barney muttered, his eyes shining. ‘Classic!’
‘X-ray pull up footage from any jetty or marina nearby,’ Highwater instructed.
Less than five minutes later Gemma whooped with delight.
‘Bingo,’ she said, tapping her laptop’s screen. Everyone intently watched the video footage on the computer. ‘This is from a security camera at a jetty about a mile downstream from the O2.’
On the screen two figures in bright yellow coats hurried down a gangplank on to a large motor launch that was moored by the boardwalk.
‘Those are the guys who left the medical bay,’ Gemma narrated. The two people climbed aboard the boat and went into the cabin. Gemma clicked her laptop’s mouse and the footage began to fast-forward. ‘The first two got to the boat about two hours ago,’ she explained, clicking the video back to normal speed. ‘This was taken about ten minutes later.’
A slender figure, wearing a bomber jacket and beanie hat, arrived at the boat and untied its mooring rope before climbing aboard.
‘Check out the footwear,’ whispered Gemma.
‘Boxing shoes,’ Archie commented.
‘Exactly. Either this kid has come straight from 1986 or he’s just been boxing in this competition.’
‘Malik’s impostor.’ Highwater clenched a fist as she spoke. ‘As we suspected.’
‘Watch,’ Gemma urged.
Reaching the doorway to the cabin, the kid pulled off his woollen hat and tossed his head back. Gemma tapped the mouse and the picture froze, as did everyone in the room.
Fascinated, Archie stared at the image on the screen. It showed the figure half inside the cabin, beanie hat in hand. The person’s face was already hidden but flying back out of the door like a flame was a long mane of fiery red hair.
‘Evelyn Tension,’ he breathed. Archie thought about the conversations he’d had with Tension in the changing room – first posing as Gemma then as Malik, when he’d glimpsed the circuitry on his wrist. The idea that he’d been face-to-face alone with such a ruthless assassin made him shudder.
‘She must have just blended into the crowd after she flattened Toby Winchester,’ Gemma added. ‘But if she’s on the boat with the real PM, who’s posing as Adam Winchester?’
‘One of her stooges,’ Barney said categorically. ‘All seriously odious masterminds have a number of willing henchmen at their disposal. They are usually brutally strong but lacking the villain’s mental power and willing to sacrifice themselves in order to fulfil their master’s plan.’
‘I’ve just been on the phone to the hospital,’ Grey announced, tossing his mobile on to a desk. ‘Toby Winchester is the real cheese, so it’s just his father who’s been switched.’
‘I’m calling Huge Ego.’ Highwater snatched up a phone without bothering to correct her slip.
Archie, Barney and Gemma waited while their boss explained STINKBOMB’s theory to Hugh Figo, describing how Evelyn Tension and her two cohorts had deceived everyone and kidnapped the Prime Minister.
When Highwater had finished her spiel she listened in silence, nodding occasionally.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said at last. ‘But . . . very well, sir . . . Yes, sir. Right away . . . Goodbye, sir.’
Highwater hung up and sighed deeply.
‘What’s the POA of action?’ Holden Grey asked.
‘I’m guessing Figo’s going to invoke an immediate Code Three lockdown,’ Barney suggested. ‘They’ll probably intercept Tension with two SBS patrol boats in a classic Stockholm Manoeuvre while Protocol Omega-Six should take care of the fake PM.’
‘Isn’t omega-six, like, a good bacteria or something?’ Gemma murmured.
‘For once, Agent Zulu, I wish you were right,’ Highwater said flatly. ‘Because even though none of that makes any sense at all, it would be more useful than what Mr Ego is going to do.’
‘Which is?’ asked Archie.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing!?!’ everyone chorused.
‘Nothing.’ Highwater shook her head wearily. ‘He says our theory is pure fantasy and that he’s not going to arrest the Prime Minister on the basis of a deranged schoolboy’s sense of smell. He thinks it would make the Secret Service a laughing stock.’
‘What about Malik?’ Archie retorted angrily. ‘How do they explain him being found drugged in his locker?’
‘Malik was diagnosed as suffering from an acute case of post-traumatic stress – i.e. he was so terrified he was going to be in trouble for hurting Toby Winchester that he hid himself away in his locker. Apparently short-term memory loss is a common symptom of this kind of ordeal.’
‘What about the fat suit and the wig?’ Gemma demanded.
Highwater raised her palms. ‘Evidence of some sort of prank but not a threat to national security according to The Ego. In fact, he thinks the whole mission was a great success.’
Holden Grey gave a snort. ‘He’s too busy feathering his own cap to admit he might have dropped the ball in his own court.’
‘That’s as maybe.’ Highwater pressed her fingertips on to her desktop. ‘But as far as Figo and the rest of the world are concerned, the PM is alive and well and drinking tea with his cabinet as we speak. Evelyn Tension has achieved the perfect crime – one that nobody even knows has been committed.’
Highwater’s declaration was met with a pensive pause, which Gemma interrupted.
‘Quick, put the TV on,’ she instructed. ‘According to the BBC website, the Prime Minister has just cut his cabinet meeting short to make a statement to the press.’
Highwater flicked the television on just in time to see someone identical to Adam Winchester positioning himself behind a bouquet of assorted microphones while scores of flashbulbs illuminated him. The impostor smiled grimly and held his hands up as he waited for the reporters’ questions to cease.
‘Boy, that’s a great disguise,’ Highwater marvelled. ‘Maybe there really are two Adam Winchesters after all.’
Barney glanced curiously at Archie, who shook his head emphatically.
‘As you know,’ the man on the screen continued, ‘I have just been in a meeting with my cabinet colleagues. During that meeting I shared with the ministers some info
rmation that came into my possession a few days ago.’ The phoney Winchester pursed his lips and paused. ‘I had hoped to deal with this matter via private diplomatic channels but I’m afraid the time has come for me to inform you, the British people, of the serious threat we are currently facing.’ The PM’s lookalike paused and made his lips go thin, as if he regretted being forced into disclosing the information. Inhaling through his nostrils, he continued with fresh resolve, ‘I have in my possession a highly classified dossier detailing a secret nuclear weapons programme currently being undertaken in the very heart of Europe. The Swiss government has been using a chocolate factory as a front for a facility that is building and stockpiling nuclear weapons. According to my intelligence the famously neutral Swiss are planning to hold the rest of Europe to ransom. I have given them until midnight tonight to admit to their missile factory and shut it down or I will have no option but to respond in the strongest possible means.’
‘What does that mean, Prime Minister?’ called one journalist.
Adam Winchester flexed his jaw muscles, then with quiet menace said, ‘It means I will order a nuclear air strike on Switzerland.’
As the crowd of reporters erupted, the fake Prime Minster held up a forefinger until the cacophony of shouted questions died away.
‘I shall make no further comment until either the Swiss government complies with my terms or the deadline approaches,’ the PM said sternly. ‘Having taken the plunge I am in no doubt that this is the right course of action. While we await Switzerland’s response I shall be deep in discussions with those around me. I concede this is a highly pressurised situation but rest assured I shall do everything in my power to fathom a solution and steer us into calmer waters. I promise we will emerge from this to find a new future in store for all of us.’
As the cameras whirred and journalists called out, the counterfeit Adam Winchester turned and went through the glossy black door of 10 Downing Street.
Highwater switched off the TV and scanned the pale faces in the room.
