To Kill Or Be Killed

by Richard Wiseman

  Chapter 16

  Euston Tower London

  9- 20 a.m.

  April 17th

  With the tour of Euston Tower over David and Jack Fulton went to the refectory for coffee. As the work involved monitoring, staff in the building took breaks in shifts. There were quite a few people in what was a large and friendly room. There was none of the uncomfortable plastic and chrome furniture like most office canteens. The well decorated, light and airy refectory was littered with club chairs set around solid well made tables. The DIC refectory was self service, funded by subs from wages. The building’s workers were happy to ‘divvy’ in and DIC couldn’t have a catering firm do the work on the grounds of secrecy. Cleaning was undertaken by a team of ex DIC watchers living in the London area that were mostly retired or looking for less demanding work with DIC. No-one working for a firm of regular caterers or cleaners would allow themselves to be so thoroughly investigated and questioned in the way that DIC would need to for the sake of security.

  Sandwiches and take away were delivered to the reception frequently throughout the day and were thoroughly checked by security before being allowed in. Buyers had to pop down and collect their orders.

  Jack and David made themselves some coffee.

  “Hello Jack.” David and Jack turned to be faced with a rather thin woman, in her late sixties, with piercing sharp little hazel eyes.

  “Maisie my sweet!” Jack embraced her and visibly glowed. “You paying us a visit or signed up for a two week duty rota.”

  “I wish it was the latter. Alas I’m too old.”

  “I’m sorry. Maisie Dewhurst this is David McKie, our latest recruit.”

  David held her small hand in his and smiled shyly.

  “A handsome one too Jack now you make me wish I was doing the duty rota this week.”

  “Maisie’s father was on the original DIC team for Churchill, David. Maisie was active from the nineteen sixties until nineteen eighty-six and now runs one of our Midlands stations. I tell you David I wish she was on the active duty rota; you couldn’t get a better tutor. Maisie’s probably forgotten more about this work than I know now. Anyway I’m forgetting my manners, let’s get a table.”

  Jack led them to a table with four club chairs. David brought their drinks on a tray.

  “You getting bored at home Maze?”

  “No. I do my historical research and read my history books.” She answered smiling.

  David smiled too. “Now there’s a coincidence. I did my degree in history.”

  “Where did you do your degree?” In spite of her age her eyes were sharp with intelligence and curiosity.

  “Strathclyde University.” David replied.

  “I did mine in London.”

  “What led you into History?” David asked.

  “It was growing up in London during and after the blitz, all those open houses. Sometimes the whole inside of a house was visible, like a doll’s house. I’d stand and look at the opened up life, as it were, and wonder who the people who had lived there were, what they were like and where they had come from. It continued in school. I still keep up to date and you David what led you to History?”

  “It was my father really. He was in the army. He told me about the history of his regiment, the Black Watch and I wanted to know about them, not the grand battles. Like you, it was the lives of the people in the regiment that fascinated me.”

  “You see. That same curiosity and desire to know about people also led you to DIC. David I’ll leave you with Maisie. Give it ten minutes and go up to your office on the fourteenth floor. I’ll introduce you to your partner on this week’s fortnight’s active rota, Jack Beaumont. ”

  “Are you okay Jack you seem excited.” Maisie asked suddenly.

  David didn’t know him well, but Jack Fulton seemed quite calm to him.

  “You’re amazing Maze. Yes. We had a message in from Michael Dewey in the Highlands. It seems a submarine surfaced and dropped off four men. We’ve got some pictures through, if a bit fuzzy, one of them is a sketch. We’ve got DIC Scotland watching CCTV at stations, marinas and all transport centres. It could be nothing, but my nose tells me otherwise.”

  “Have you checked submarine movements?”

  “We’re just waiting for the decryption department to get into secret service, Special Forces and MOD systems. They never know that we get in and it’s a trick to get in and out without being noticed. Hudson in decryption thinks it’ll be another two hours before we’re in.”

  With that Jack limped away.

  Maisie sipped at her tea. There was a pause.

  “You want to know what it’s going to be like?”

  David smiled. “Yes.”

  “It’s fascinating for a certain type of person. You have to be a people watcher. You have to be rather sedentary too. Action seekers will find it rather boring, mundane. I love it. I see so much. I can pick a piece of information here, one there and another and a story unfolds. I deduce, weigh the evidence and before I know it I’ve a corrupt policeman on the hook or a dodgy land deal uncovered. It’s painstaking work.”

  “I like the idea of watching. I was on customs before this. I didn’t want to be a manager. I wanted to be on the front line looking at people, reading them. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

  “You seem a little poignant?”

  Again David smiled. “Yes I’m missing my son and my wife is pregnant with our second. Being here for two weeks is going to be hard.”

  Maisie leaned forward, patting his hand in a motherly way. “It will pass soon, then every day at home for three months. Think of that.”

  David smiled once again.

  “You have a good broad and friendly smile David.” She sipped at the last of her tea, draining her cup. “Anyway the two weeks will pass soon and quite uneventfully.”

  “I rather hope so. I mean the hand gun and the unarmed combat training is fun and exciting, but I’m not sure I’m the all action hero.”

  “It’s so rare for anything to happen. There are big events from time to time. I’ve been involved in one or two myself.”

  David raised an eyebrow, Maisie smiled.

  “I’ll tell you one day, though obviously having signed the act it’ll be secret.” She winked.

  “Ay.” A pause. “Do you have children?” David asked.

  “Yes I have a daughter. She lives in Birmingham. That’s why I live in the Midlands. I moved to be near her. Mind you part of my watch is the chemical works around that part of the country.”

  “Chemical works. That’s quite a responsibility. Well I would have thought so given the demographics of the Midlands.”

  “Yes. Mind you it’s not only me watching that area; there are two of us there, given the spread of the works. It’s on a DIC border line, which is the M6. Where do you live?”

  “Dover.”

  “Oh a very historic town and quite a vital watch what with the port and Folkestone nearby. I take it you’ve done the war time tunnels?”

  “Many times, I had hoped to see Churchill’s ghost, but no luck. Your father knew Churchill I take it, being in the original DIC.”

  “Yes my father was the first head of DIC, hand picked for the job. Churchill didn’t trust the Secret Service, with their aristocratic roots and stock. Later on Burgess and McLean showed him to have been right about that, with hindsight. Dad was head of Inland Revenue, a customs man like you. He had adventures too, especially early on.”

  David, on an impulse looked at his watch.

  “Dear god, I’m seriously late! I’d better go. I lost track there.” He stood and leaned over. “You had me quite entranced.”

  “I’m flattered. If your duty travels bring you to the Birmingham have your partner and self stop over, so much friendlier than a hotel.”

  “Won’t your husband mind?”

  “Well spotted on the ring, too easy, but I’m a widow.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. In fact it’s
the IRA who has to be sorry. He was army bomb disposal.”

  “I see. My father was a peacekeeper in Northern Ireland with his regiment. Can I e-mail you to chat; it’s nice to have a kindred spirit in work.”

  “Of course, I’d like that. We all use the network to keep in touch. They don’t discourage the use of internal encrypted e-mails for friendship, as long as you’re not profligate. We’re one big family here. That’s why I visit.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  With that David dashed away. Maisie cast a glance around and caught another known and friendly eye. She wandered over and shared a light, warm embrace with a severe looking woman of about forty. They fell to talking animatedly.

  The morning wore on in the Euston building, information streaming in at thousands of gigabytes a second and every last byte being scanned, stored and sifted.

  When David got to the Duty Team Office Jack Fulton and a muscular looking Afro- Caribbean man with grey hair, rimless spectacles and a grey moustache were engrossed by the images on a large LCD computer screen.

  “Are you looking for the four illegal entrants from Scotland?”

  “David! Jack Beaumont, David McKie.”

  “Wow a big man and a Scot too.”

  David shook hands. Beaumont had serious heavy lidded eyes. Looking at his physique David could tell that he kept fit. If it hadn’t been for the grey hair no-one one would have thought he was just forty, which he was.

  “Jack was a security expert for private firms, I’m sure he’ll tell you all about that later.”

  On the screen in front of Beaumont a section of CCTV was running whilst at the top of the screen there were Dewey’s four images; a sketch of Charlie Cobb, two fuzzy satellite images of Mason and Spencer, taken with high intensity satellite imaging, and finally the Nikon close up of Wheeler. There was also an image of Spencer from the airport

  “These four were picked up by Michael Dewey at Port An-eorna, just on the Atlantic coast. Some blip appeared on the radar, just appeared, had to be a sub. This was just before dawn this morning. Now Michael saw one face by match flare and sketched it.” Jack Fulton pointed to the sketch. “He didn’t show up on satellite even though Dewey guessed one would head for a boat and scanned the harbour at Plockton. The harbour man, according to Dewey, said an American was taking a boat out, pre-arranged.”

  “Well he’d be heading down the west coast in that. “ Beaumont interjected.

  “We’ve got harbour and Marina bookings being checked down the west coast.”

  “He might not put in. Anchor and swim in.”

  Fulton nodded.

  “That’s true enough. Now this one,” he pointed to Mason, “he had to have his ticket pre-arranged as Duirnish is a request stop and it was an early train. This one,” he pointed to Spencer, “was picked up by chopper. “ He waved a hand at Beaumont about to interject. “CCTV for Inverness, Perth and Aberdeen are being monitored and past hours checked so we should get something soon. That chopper had to be arranged too. The last one,” he pointed to Wheeler, “his motorbike was sitting waiting. We’ve put the license plate and picture out to police. There’s an approach with caution note attached.”

  He walked to the door and turned.

  “We’ll find out whose submarine it was. Decryption department are working the armed forces sites as we speak. For now,” he wagged a finger severely, “we assume they’re up to no good, positively dangerous and someone in the UK brought them in. The question is who or what are they? What are they going to do? I’m having the leads and vital information fed directly into the duty team offices and that means you two here. Remember brains David, not brawn. Work this one out and fast.”

  David sat in a padded swivel chair his knees were half way up his chest. He struggled to reach the lever. Beaumont stepped over and worked the lever.

  “Thanks Jack.”

  “Call me Beaumont. Anyway, we’re a team for two weeks, partners. So let’s take a walk, get a sandwich and when we come back decryption will have cracked MOD and the rest. Plus the watchers will have found at least one face and we’ll have a lead. Come on.”

  David hesitated.

  “Trust me. I’ve been doing this job five years. Active duty rota isn’t usually this exciting. There are thousands of people watching. Our job will be to run around the country chasing.”

  David smiled. “Okay Beaumont.”

  They got their coats and headed down to the lobby. After being checked out by security they headed for Euston station.

  “Good sandwiches at the station. The fresh air will get the brain cells going.”

  Inverness watch picked Spencer out from the morning traffic at the airport. Meanwhile Decryption were getting ready to run the four images through MI6 computer when they got in, invisible to the secret service computer system and its anti-intrusion software.

  Back in his office Jack Fulton stared at the footage of Marco Spencer eating breakfast at Inverness airport. His eyes hardened. He knew this one from somewhere of that he was sure. He stared harder at the image.

  “Who are you?” He spoke aloud to the empty room.

  Chapter 17

  The Home Office

  9 – 30 a.m.

  April 17th

  “Mr Robinson will see you now.”

  The secretary opened the thick wooden door and let the blandly dressed man into the ornate and beautiful office. Behind the desk Tarquin Robinson, the Minister for The Home Office, sat waiting, reading through documents. He was a short and extremely plump man. Known for being outspoken his heavy build, short stature and wobbly chins made him the target of many satirists. This greatly annoyed him as he took himself very seriously. He watched the man walk in; a medium build man, grey suit and nylon mackintosh, hair blonde, though not naturally so as his eyebrows were brown. The man had serious brown eyes and a thin pointed face.

  “Have a seat Mr Bentall.”

  Bentall sat and waited to be spoken to.

  “No-one here aware of who you are?”

  “No. Your secretary has a false name. I’m listed as a security firm expert.”

  “Good. What can I do for you?”

  “I believe that after the last work done for you by my superior he expressed a concern about a certain ‘situation’ and you agreed that ‘elimination’ by some means would be desirable.”

  “Indeed I did. Mutually beneficial I think we agreed.”

  “You discussed a plan I believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “That plan is now in motion.” Bentall’s face was impassive as he looked at the man’s black eyes.

  Robinson shifted forward in his seat, his bulky body shifting with difficulty in the heavy and softly furnished office chair.

  “Is it indeed, is your boss sure this will work?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be safely distanced?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do his superiors suspect anything?”

  “No. We deal with people like this all the time it’s part of departmental work and no traces have been left. Our department is kept at arms length. No-one generally wants to know what we’re up to. It allows them to truthfully deny our work and if need be drop us in it. It’s not a good position. That’s why my superior has sought this…er… alliance, shall we call it?”

  “Yes I see. The results on the target will be permanent will they?”

  “Finished for good we should think.” Bentall couldn’t resist a small smile.

  “The official explanation will pass muster?” Robinson probed somewhat nervously.

  “Easily, it seems sensible given the security climate.”

  “It’ll be a very satisfactory outcome. The time has come for change in that area.”

  “We think so.” Bentall again gave a small smile.

  “Your superior will gain from this himself, but what would he like from me?”

  “Support.” Bentall had been told to make the cost clear. ”Of course if you’d like to cance
l?” He added knowing that the fat, greedy man was hooked.

  “No. Let’s proceed. It’s begun now.”

  “Good.” Bentall felt in control. The old man was sweating. It was always the same with the power hungry, keen, but afraid when the moment came.

  “What if I need to contact your superior?”

  “We have a method. A mode of untraceable and disposable contact will simply appear and disappear as easily as you desire or he desires.”

  Bentall took out the brown ‘jiffy’ parcel, sealed, and put it on the table.

  “One number in the memory, untraceable, registered to a fake name and disposable.”

  “Good. That’s all then.” Robinson once again spoke with authority, reminding himself he was speaking to a government lackey.

  Bentall got up.

  “Thank you minister, I’ll pass your consent to my superior?”

  “Please do.”

  Bentall left quietly.

  Robinson opened the parcel and took out an orange coloured Bic ‘disposable’ cell phone. It was a clever gadget. It came with a pre charged battery and pre paid talk time. He’d seen them in France. This one was citrus orange colour.

  Chapter 18

  Inverness

  10 a.m.

  April 17th

  Peter Mason arrived at Inverness rail station, close to ten in the morning. He knew that he was booked on the night train, but he also knew that he had the option to trade the ticket for a single ticket going south during the day. He’d had enough of trains. He wanted to be more independent. He knew that the credit card would stretch to a rental car, but that would leave a trail.