A Deal to Die For

by Albert Able

In fact Carl Peterson was furious, although his did not let his son see his anger. The so-called unique security system, supposedly perfected for this year’s sales campaign, was clearly flawed.

  It was even more disturbing for Peterson, because he had believed that by using this system, he was going to fulfil his dream of breaking into the international military networks.

  Fortunately it was also at that time that the two brilliant young Vietnamese men came to his attention; soon things would be very different.

  ***

  There could be little doubt now that Watkins had been murdered and the connection he had uncovered between the Vietnamese scientists covert travel arrangements and their death in a helicopter accident was too also much of a coincidence. Otherwise Alex Scott had precious little to go on, so when Lydia Rowland ‘Head of Archives’ at GCHQ left a message and number asking him to call back urgently he had the distinct feeling things were about to change.

  Alex made the call. Lydia sounded very nervous and spoke in a whisper. “Thank you for calling. This is my home number - it was too risky to call from work.”

  “Just take your time.” Alex tried to calm her.

  “I’m so worried. This all seems to be getting out of hand,” she replied with a tremble in her voice.

  “Just tell me what you have found and I’ll try not to bother you again,” Alex coaxed her gently.

  Lydia Rowland took a deep breath and started to talk. “You see I found all Graham’s notes and apparently the two Vietnamese men were employed by a certain SKY-SEC Corporation, a large Californian security and communication outfit.”

  Having started she seemed to relax a bit and went on to advise Alex that according to the notes, any further enquiries about the men had been politely and skilfully deflected. Graham had also made a note that he suspected that there could be a problem with the internal communications systems at GCHQ although he did not specify what he had found. That was why she had decided to call from her home number.

  Alex thanked her profusely and tried to assure her that there would not be any repercussions as a result of her leaking the information to him.

  “The Boss would have thanked you personally but you know how he likes to stay in the shadows?”

  “He was always very good to me,” Lydia reminisced as her courage returned. “Wish him well, won’t you - oh, and do you want me to call if anything else crops up?”

  ***

  The following morning the Boss sat in silence as Alex Scott delivered Lydia Rowland’s alarming information.

  “We are going to have to check this SKY-SEC lot out.” The Boss massaged his chin thoughtfully.

  “Alex, I’m afraid it’s not the sort of thing we can get someone else to do, so you’re going to have to get yourself across to California and see what you can find out about them.” The Boss picked up a piece of paper from the table. “I had Henshore check and there is a flight at lunchtime today.” He looked thoughtfully at Alex for a moment and added. “How will Rosie take to the idea?”

  Alex raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Don’t worry, she’ll understand - she always does.”

  The airport did not appear to be very busy. All flights were apparently getting away on time, so the flow of passengers though the terminal was operating at its maximum efficiency.

  Alex had two hours to wait for the flight to be called so he decided to have a light lunch, as much to pass the time as to satisfy his appetite.

  The ‘The Terrace Restaurant’ had tables looking out over the sun-drenched concourse. Alex sat at the small chipped table; the waitress was pleasant enough but he feared that the flimsy plastic cutlery was going to be indicative of the quality of the food.

  The picture menu he was handed was, he feared, still further confirmation of what he was sure would be an indifferent gastronomic event, to say the least. So he was surprised, therefore, by the arrival of the freshly prepared mixed salad and expertly char-grilled steak. The steak was still red in the middle, he noted, as his plastic knife sliced easily into what proved to be a succulent piece of meat.

  ‘A menu is a bit like my profession,’ he thought to himself philosophically as he munched away contentedly. ‘You can’t always tell when the enemy is bluffing.’

  The flight arrived on time at San Francisco Airport. Alex had slept much of the way and was easily able to adapt to the time change.

  A smartly dressed man, a little older than Alex, carrying a neatly printed clipboard that displayed the words ‘Alex Scott CTB Systems’ waited expectantly at the arrival gate.

  Alex approached him smiling acknowledgment. “You’ve just found him.”

  “Jerry Fielding, SKY-SEC.” The man greeted Alex warmly. “Good to meet you. How was the flight?”

  Jerry knew it was Alex Scott, of course, since he had diligently researched both Alex and his company, ‘CTB Systems.’ He had established a comprehensive background on Alex, including several photographs of him.

  “No problem for me, Mr Fielding, I slept most of the way.” Alex returned the firm handshake.

  “Hey, it’s Jerry - were not so formal over here!” Jerry Fielding corrected Alex in his soft American accent and then, patting him informally on his arm, said: “I guess we’ll go straight to the office, if that’s OK with you; we’ve set-up a demonstration of the surveillance equipment in your specification. Thought it would be best to start at the beginning so to speak, and then you can start asking your questions, OK?”

  The demonstration was conducted with smooth efficiency, finishing with a stereotype ‘all your questions answered’-type finale.

  “So what do you think, Alex? Pretty darned good, eh?” The keen young demonstrator asked enthusiastically.

  Alex had the clear impression that he was expected to agree and reach for his chequebook on the spot.

  “Well it certainly seems to fit the bill from our perspective. First of course I will have to communicate with our technical team. I’ll warrant they’ll have some extra questions. Then I’ll know if there is anything else we need to understand.”

  “Naturally,” Jerry interrupted, addressing the eager salesman, “I guess Alex needs to check into his hotel and freshen up a little, after that long flight; give him time to think quietly through all he’s seen.” He turned. “Isn’t that so Alex?” Jerry smiled.

  “Sounds like a dammed good idea, thank you.”

  The ‘SKY-SEC’ Corporation complex was a couple of miles from the hotel into which they regularly booked the out of town reps and buyers.

  Jerry delivered Alex to the reception desk, checked him in and then arranged to meet for some dinner later that evening.

  “About eight?” Jerry queried.

  “That’s just fine by me,” Alex confirmed and went up to his room. He stripped off his clothes and ducked gratefully into the shower.

  Clad only in the hotel courtesy dressing-gown Alex decided to relax and make some calls before Jerry collected him for dinner. He poured a beer from the ‘courtesy bar’ and then switched on the television, but hardly had he settled in his chair when the telephone rang; it was his business partner Hans de Wolf.

  “Hans! Have you gone mad? Do you realise what it costs to ring me over here?” Alex scolded in his usual light-hearted manner.

  “I know, so call me back a little later please, preferably by some cheaper method than the hotel phone, especially since you’ll be paying!” Hans paused for a moment.

  A faint buzzing was all Alex could hear. “Are you still there?” Alex enquired.

  “Ja, Ja, sorry about that, is that better?”

  “That’s fine now,” Alex confirmed.

  “Well, I have some interesting news on the contract, so I need to hear all about the demonstration. Oh - and don’t forget your mobile won’t work from over there. Au revoir.” Hans terminat
ed the call.

  Alex replaced the handset and remained deep in thought for a few moments. Hans was clearly telling him not to use the new mobile he had been so proud to demonstrate before he left for the States. Very strange, especially as the new instrument’s principle features (rather like an iPhone) was its ability to work on any of the worldwide networks, both as a phone, video or GPS navigator but also as a locator beacon and VHF transmitter. Yet it was still no bigger than a cigarette packet and was supposed to be completely secure!

  The reference to the high cost of using the hotel system implied that he shouldn’t use that, either.

  ‘Interesting,’ Alex muttered with a slight smile, ‘maybe we are beginning to make some progress.’

  Thrilled by the tantalizing thought that he may be homing in on the quarry, he settled onto the bed and instantly drifted into a relaxing sleep.

  Later that evening, Jerry Fielding picked him up as agreed and drove them to an out-of-town up-market Mexican restaurant.

  Jerry was probably five years older than Alex and as the evening wore on they discovered that they had quite a lot in common. Jerry had served in communications with the US Navy, had been in the Gulf at about the same time as Alex and still loved to sail his 35-foot cabin cruiser - “Whenever I have the time, which, sadly, isn’t often enough!” He wrinkled his brow in regret.

  Up until this moment, they had talked about anything and everything but the earlier demonstration of the surveillance equipment in which Alex was supposed to be interested.

  “Large Tequilas on the rocks, por favor,” Jerry declared with a flourish to the smiling waiter. “The only way to complete a good Mexican dinner, eh?” He smiled, but then his expression changed as he leaned forward on the table.

  “Alex, let me put my cards on the table with you. My ‘public relations’ role at SKY-SEC includes carrying out a full security check on all potential clients.”

  Alex nodded understanding as the waiter discreetly placed two glasses on the table.

  “Well here’s hoping we passed the test OK?” Alex raised his glass.

  “Cheers,” Jerry responded automatically as they touched glasses. “Absolutely. When I ran the standard inquiries on you and your colleagues, you’ll be pleased to know that everything checked out perfectly.” Jerry sat back still holding his untouched Tequila.

  “But then I remembered you, not by name but your picture in a file somewhere, from another life. You see, I was CIA for fifteen years.”

  Alex started to protest.

  “Look Alex,” Jerry put out a hand to restrain him, “none knows about my past either, at least I hope not, otherwise I’m just so much meat.” He shook his head anxiously and took a gulp of his drink. “I don’t know what your status is now, but my point is, that since we are both out of a similar mould I think we ought to be on the same side?”

  “It’s good of you to be so frank with me, but Hans de Wolfe and I run a successful and expanding, legitimate, hi-tech security business and that’s it!” Alex gestured with his hands.

  “Okay,” Jerry nodded his head. “Well, genuine or not, I bet you carried out a full search on SKY-SEC before considering their system?” Jerry raised his eyebrows.

  “Indeed we did, and the report showed every reason to be dealing with such a successful company.” It was Alex’s turn to lean forward this time. “In fact the only thing I found a little worrying was how you managed to so carelessly loose your two best young development scientists in a helicopter explosion. Pretty crap security, I thought, but everyone is fallible!”

  Alex sat back, furrowing his brow.

  Jerry did not reply immediately, he seemed to be making up his mind then leaned forward again.

  “You obviously don’t get all the news, because that was not the only ‘accident’ that month.”

  Jerry paused, casually running his finger through the condensation that had formed on his glass. “The project coordinator, working with the Vietnamese guys, was also mysteriously found floating facing down in the lake where he was taking a fishing holiday?”

  “Can I ask what they had been working on?” Alex asked with renewed interest.

  “They’d just finished installing the computer and security systems at your own GCHQ in Cheltenham, England.”

  Although Alex was genuinely stunned, he asked quickly. “Who else knows?”

  “Don’t know exactly. It’s not on any files inside SKY-SEC, but then you wouldn’t expect it to be, would you?” Jerry sighed. “They operate a very comprehensive scramble and detect screening system. This one is not available to the public. Every call made from within the complex is monitored for selective information. They can even individually scan selected outfits close by, such as your hotel, which I happen to know is included.”

  Alex’s mood suddenly changed. “Now listen Jerry, it’s all very flattering that you consider I should be party to your secret worries and suspicions, but I cannot allow myself to be associated with your... your paranoia.”

  He stood up suddenly: “I am here to consider some expensive security equipment for a client and quite frankly, you have made it very difficult for me now. Possibly even compromised my contract.”

  Alex scowled down indignantly at Jerry. “Regrettably, in the circumstances, I will now have to consider my position as a potential buyer.”

  As Alex started to leave, Jerry jumped up. “I’ll take you to the hotel.”

  “I think I’ll make my own way back, thank you.” Alex turned and asked the restaurant manager to call a taxi.

  Then, as Alex looked back at the seemingly desolate Jerry he assumed a slightly more conciliatory tone: “I expect it may be better for us all to sleep on it and make any decisions in the sober light of day, don’t you think?”

  A clearly relieved Jerry agreed. “See you tomorrow in the lobby then?”

  Alex nodded with a faint smile, “OK, ten o’clock.”

  The taxi arrived and Alex left the restaurant. About a mile down the road, he asked the driver to stop at a pay phone. “Just give me a minute please,” he asked the driver.

  Almost fifteen minutes later he returned to the taxi.

  “That was a hell of long minute, mister,” the driver commented sourly.

  “Are you married?” Alex asked.

  “Sure am,” the driver replied.

  “Have you ever found a way to stop them rambling on?”

  The driver’s mood changed instantly and with a knowing guffaw slipped the taxi into gear.

  ***

  Hans was bubbling over with excitement when Alex called him from the payphone.

  “We seem to have stumbled onto something a bit special here,’ he told Alex. First, I finally managed to partially identify that spurious signal from the GCHQ building. It is in fact a compressed transmission and it is being sent, rather cleverly, by using the electrical impulse of the motor in the main entrance door mechanism, each time it opens. It only has a very short rage but sufficient I discovered, to connect with the local mobile telephone transmitter across the street, from where it simply continues on that carrier signal.

  ‘It seems to have a dedicated destination, but I haven’t been able to resolve that bit yet - I’ll have that for you by the morning, though. Good, eh?”

  “Sounds fantastic Hans, perhaps when you’ve calmed down a bit, I’ll get you to explain it again in plain English!” Alex chuckled. “So what else? What about this miracle mobile you now tell me not to use?”

  “Yes, well that’s the next thing. When I made the calls and confirmed the arrangements by e-mail for your visit to SKY-SEC I ran a scan on the carrier signals. Guess what? I discovered that they operate a selective transmission signal with dedicated output waves. That means, in case you were about to ask, that they scramble every transmission at source and then selectively decomp
ress them.

  ‘In other words based, on what I’ve seen so far, their communications system can’t be bugged!” Hans paused for breath. “I am not yet one hundred per cent certain, but I expect that also means every communication in or out is - or could be - monitored.”

  “You mean they have someone listening to all the calls, twenty four hours a day?” Alex asked in wonder.

  “Not exactly. Although they auto-record every call, they cannot listen to everything, so they will have a computer programmed to react to certain words. ‘Alex Scott’ for instance, so if anyone uses that name, or something similar the computer kicks in and flags up that bit of the conversation.” Hans smiled mischievously. “Simple, really.” His expression changed to a slight wince as he shifted the weight from his artificial leg.

  “And another thing, when I tried to call you at your hotel, my computer detected their auto-recorder kicking in, so thought it prudent for you not to call me from there.”

  “I wonder why they feel the need to bug buildings, even outside their own perimeter.” Alex queried with a slight shake of his head then explained in detail the demonstration and the subsequent conversation with Jerry Fielding. “See what you can find about this guy please, it could easily be a subterfuge, yet I sensed something genuine about him.”

  “Leave it to me. I’ll speak to the Boss and in the meantime, since I have little else to do, I am devising a cloaking screen for our own mobile transmissions, so I will be able to call on your ‘all singing, all dancing’ mobile within the next hour or two.”

  He added with sincerity: “Take care my friend.”

  ***

  Several years had passed since Igor Pulaski’s army days and his clandestine experiences at the secret missile development base. Then one morning his memory of those early hair-raising events was suddenly jogged as the receptionist announced that he had a visitor.

  “He wouldn’t give a name,” she said cautiously. “He just said ‘tell him “the Dispatcher” is here’. That’s all he would say.”

  Igor jumped up from his chair thrusting out his hand in greeting as he recognised the man who was following her into the room. “Well this is a pleasure.” He shook the man’s hand vigorously.