by Tim Heath
It was when Brendan first mentioned the name Tommy Lawrence that a bolt shot through her body as if someone had suddenly turned the power back on. She listened to every word and before she could put in her protest at how poorly he’d treated her, how hurt she was, how much she didn’t want to see him, Brendan had gone to work building the love again, mentioning things about what had happened back at the Academy weekend. Not that Brendan admitted any involvement, but he made Tommy out to be a real victim and having investigated things he’d discovered a drug had been put into Tommy’s drink. Brendan said how the woman involved had been caught trying to do it a second time, how the woman had a sex addiction and used her body and the drugs as a weapon to get what she wanted. He said how Tommy, being the friendly man they both knew he was, had innocently walked into her trap and had not seen the warning signs. Brendan did an excellent job of painting Tommy as the victim in it all. Jessica suddenly found herself in the place of actually feeling sorry for him. She started overthinking about the things she’d said and how they’d finished things. It was when Brendan mentioned that Tommy was going to be at the charity dinner as well that she went silent, her heart pounding inside her. She couldn’t wait for Brendan to get the words out but when he did, she was overwhelmed, delighted that she’d be Tommy’s date for the night and so eager to see him again. Jessica told Brendan how grateful she was to him for sorting this out and for once again putting on the charity dinner to which he’d invited them both. She thought it extraordinary that her boss would do this for her, to find out these things and go the extra mile to help her in such a way she felt she might cry. It didn’t cross her mind to ask why it had come out only now, so long after the event. Neither did she ask him how long he’d known this and whether he’d found it out right back then at the time when things could have been quickly resolved. She didn’t want to think about any of those things because right at that moment, she could have back the one thing she wanted above all things. Now she’d let nothing stand in their way. She loved Tommy, always had, and now she could admit it again. Yes, Tommy had been foolish but she knew how he was great with people and it was his innocence that was part of the attraction. She hated the woman that had done this to him, the woman that had preyed on her man.
How quickly her feelings came back. She put the phone down a different girl from the one who had woken up at five that morning. Her heart was smiling again like it hadn’t done for three years. She couldn’t wait to turn up at the dinner. She was going to pull out all the stops and make herself look like a million dollars. Suddenly life had got adventurous again. She went about the rest of the day happy, happier than she’d felt in a long time.
Nigel Gamble had just got off the phone from his security agency. He had called to see what leads they might have had; they confirmed there was nothing at the moment. They were still getting used to the new technology that Nigel had only just given them, but more importantly, there hadn’t been anything to provide them with a start in the location or identification of the man they’d been asked to find. All of this hadn’t pleased Nigel one bit though he’d done his best to remain calm, only occasionally raising his voice above the whispered level that he usually used. Having thought things through a lot that day while walking through his private garden, he’d played out many scenarios as to how best to track this Robert character. Feeling sure that the Terrance Goldman and Simon Allen news could only make Robert sweat, he now anticipated that Robert’s next moves would be to start getting a lot closer to home. He’d, therefore, ordered that all his vital employees across the group be traced so that the Genesis System would check every phone call they had and email they received for any mention of the name Robert Sandle. It would, however, also analyse and look for much more specific pieces of information as well. It wouldn’t be long, Nigel had reasoned, before Robert would have to break his silence, if indeed Robert was the one that was actually after him. The truth was that Nigel wasn’t entirely sure, but didn’t want to take any chances. There had been a few alarms over the last couple of years, but they had been easy to crack and only once had action been needed to silence someone. But as the months went by it became more and more an issue for Nigel so that now everyone was a possible threat, nothing was safe anymore and no one could be trusted. So the trace on specific people was set up, and it was here that Nigel later heard the call between Brendan Charles and Jessica Ponter, which made him smile, knowing that things were moving forward with Brendan and he was doing as instructed.
Nigel Gamble had by now got hold of the only photo that they had of Robert Sandle, that first specific encounter with Jessica Ponter at the Department of Information some two weeks ago. He’d passed it on to his security guys who’d done a lot of work on the tired looking picture, cleaning it up and playing around with it to work out what he’d look like from every possible angle, their technology being used to significant effect.
Now with a decent image in his possession, Nigel had shown the extent to which his influence stretched, using all available means to get the message out that this man was to be caught. Wanted posters with Robert’s face on it had now started appearing all over the city. A few mainstream and dozens of free newspapers over the next few days began carrying Robert’s picture in the expectation that there would be people who would have seen him. Even on television, his face started appearing in specially commissioned adverts. One investment area Nigel Gamble had stayed clear of had been television as he hadn’t seen much profit in it. He could still use his influence to get his message across even if he didn’t have his own studio in which to work.
And of course, through the conventional methods of the police and security services, Robert’s image was passed around every station and desk with a warning that he was dangerous but with little detail as to why.
Nigel knew the net had now been laid. He’d figured that with such an obvious man-hunt for him it would only ground Robert where he was and make him rely on using remote access––such as telephones, mobiles and the internet. And this was what Nigel wanted Robert to use, as then the Genesis System could track his exact location and once it did, Robert would be history.
Up to that point, though, there had not been anything to go on, as if Robert had just disappeared from the grid. Nigel feared anything was possible and the longer Robert remained hidden, the more it proved Robert was indeed the one that he feared the most.
Now Nigel knew it was just a matter of time. He was reasonably sure that Robert wasn’t too close, as he had only managed to ruffle a few feathers of some of the people that worked for him––Robert’s encounters with Jessica and Brendan being the only ones of which Nigel was aware. He now expected, however, that this would be Robert’s only possible starting point and Nigel was prepared for such a move.
Having had a head start in his life, as it was now, Nigel Gamble had spent years covering his tracks and hiding in a world of riches that meant he had all he ever dreamed about, and much more. But the need to keep a low profile had always required there to be people close enough to him so that he could work through them. They would be the early warning systems for Nigel, and he could be long gone before any trouble threatened his own world.
Living on such a vast estate as he did, there had been, over the last decade, some attempts by people to get in, to try and steal something. With the kind of security in place that Nigel had, there was no way an opportunist would last very long before being detected and then caught. Most of these people were now serving long sentences in some of the toughest prisons around, having either had multiple similar offences on their records already or just having been made to look like they had. Only twice had intruders been shot, and without families, it was Nigel himself who ordered their incineration and all record of their existence deleted.
That night Nigel Gamble was able to sleep a little more comfortably. He would make lots of calls over the next few days to see what had been heard if anything. He would make enough noise in the process to produce some productiv
e action by all concerned which, he expected, would, in the end, provide a result. But that would start tomorrow. Now he wanted to rest, tiredness suddenly sitting heavy on him, as if the world’s worries had been laid upon his shoulders alone.
13
Robert, as he had now been calling himself, walked through the busy and cold streets, holding tightly to his jacket, bracing himself from the bitter wind that chilled to the bone. It was dark now, street lamps flooding parts of the pavement with their artificial light. The usual fake green plastic leaves hanging from each post were meant to give the impression that they were trees but in reality, only highlighted the fact that nothing living grew anymore in that part of the city.
How Robert loathed the area, remembering with fondness the country air and greenery that swamped the house he’d just left, like an ocean swamps a boat. Though the streets were relatively safe, motor accidents aside, the walls and alleys were full of graffiti and none more so than on the building at which he worked, which wasn’t a surprise considering the number of criminals they’d nailed over the years.
It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, for a moment as Robert rounded the corner, to see that the building had been completely repainted on the outside since his last visit. Clean, fresh green paint and no sign of the offensive graffiti that had existed before. Due to the nature of his job, where blending in was the best you could hope for, the building where he worked did not have any signs hanging on the outside. A steel reinforced main door maintained the building's integrity. Those who knew the code could gain access by using the keypad, but once inside two further doors checked fingerprints and vocal tones to make sure only the correct people were allowed in. The graffiti artists would come again, thinking it an empty building with no one watching, but there were always cameras looking on.
Robert walked up to the main door and was startled to see that it stood open. Even more disturbing was the lack of any keypad or personnel as he walked straight through into what once had been a tidy but busy reception area. Something was wrong, and only now his heart started racing. He hurried to where his office once had been, going through doors as if they weren’t there, and found himself inside a busy estate agent’s office. Heads turned as he burst through the door and Robert looked around in disbelief.
Before anyone could say anything, he had gone straight back out again, shaking his head in wonder and trying to remain calm, telling himself that there must have been an incident since his last visit and they’d moved locations, as was the protocol. ‘But what if,’ he started thinking to himself. ‘What if my target has changed something? What if the Simon Allen situation has thrown everything around?’ The thought concerned him. He didn’t know what was possible anymore, though he knew the dangers he now faced. What he needed most right then were answers. What he needed was to find out the extent of the damage as well as to find where the office now existed, if it even still existed, and take things from there.
It took him several hours of frantic searching before he again picked up the trail and the details of where the office was now located. After all, it wasn’t meant to be a well-known fact regarding its existence, and indeed after an incident that must have compromised the Agency’s integrity, those who did know where it was undoubtedly wouldn’t be letting on. Having been in the field for as long as he had, Robert was out of the communication loop so there would have been no way of getting a message to him, alerting him of the changes. He’d longed for such technology but feared its existence would just make him easier to find, so it was better the way it was. The drawback was times like this when he was back and looking for his office which he’d only just found with difficulty, several precious hours already wasted.
The new office location turned out to be only two miles from its old position, which did make sense as the employees were still people and still had the same homes to go back to each day. The commute was hard enough nowadays without making the entire workforce trek to the other side of the city. Two miles was sufficient to again build secrecy, with all employees using different shops, cafés and routes into work.
Walking all the way, Robert was pleased to find the building and noticed the visible signs, at least for him, that it was indeed a top security building. His eyes were well trained to spot all the devices put in place to stop any unwanted visitors, as well as the same secure doors and keypad operated entrance that there had been in the old building.
Robert hung in the shadows for a few minutes, the large bins making an excellent vantage point from which to watch for the right moment. And after five minutes of sitting there in the cold shadows, he spotted his chance. A couple of no doubt low ranking administration staff came wandering around and gossiping, before keying in the code and opening the door, carrying on through and letting the door just close behind them. That wasn’t the procedure, especially so shortly after whatever incident had recently taken place. Timing it correctly, Robert gave them long enough to get out of sight before quickly grabbing the door before it closed so that he too could get inside, which he did without anyone else seeing him. Inside there was less security in place than was usual, which he reasoned was because it was still being sorted out since the move. Robert worked out where he needed to go and took the stairs up to the top floor. Just before going through the main doors, Robert spotted a good friend at the other end of the corridor heading for the lifts. Robert shouted after him, but he’d got into the waiting lift before he could have heard.
Robert then walked in through the main doors, where an apparently new member of the reception staff, looking pretty in her company uniform, politely but firmly looked up and asked:
“Can I help you, sir?” She did not return Robert's smile but he replied warmly anyway.
“Hello, my field name is Robert Sandle,” he said. She didn’t recognise him, and Robert knew the protocol in such situations was that if the office got moved while an agent was out in the field, the only thing that they would retain would be their field name once they re-entered their old world.
“I’m sorry, sir. I think you are mistaken.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, sir, I think you might be in the wrong place. We have no one by the name Robert Sandle working here.” Her eyes flicked to the right, evidence to Robert that she had already alerted the security personnel. Not wanting to get quizzed he backed out, thinking instead to speak to the friend he’d seen, who couldn’t have gone very far.
The receptionist called after him and then shouted for the security, but Robert was gone and away, out of the building as fast as he could.
“What’s going on?” he said quietly to himself.
Spotting his friend on the other side of the street, having evidently just left a drinks van with two large cups of something, probably coffee, in his hand, Robert walked over towards him to intercept. Long before getting to him again, Robert knew something was wrong. He was well aware that his friend had spotted him a few seconds ago, but his expression hadn’t changed. It was as if they hadn’t known each other for the fifteen years they’d worked together.
“Paul, it’s me!” Robert said, now in front of him. Paul suddenly stopped as if surprised that a stranger knew his name.
“Can I help you?” he said, slight trepidation evident in his tone. “Paul, what do you mean? It’s me!”
“How do you know my name?”
“What’s happened here, Paul? Why am I being frozen out? Why has the office moved?”
Paul started to look a little concerned for his safety as if he was talking to someone who was in the process of suffering from some mental breakdown.
“Are you lost, sir? Do you need a doctor?”
Robert looked at him in disbelief. If this was an act, or worse still a joke, Paul was doing a wonderfully convincing job.
“You are Paul Connad, married to Suzie with two kids. You work, as I do, for the Agency and we’ve been colleagues for fifteen years since the first day you walked into the office.”
&n
bsp; Paul looked at him with sympathy. Someone was feeding this stranger some information, but it was a wrong source and only half right. He didn’t want to hurt the guy physically, but if he needed to, he would, especially if he threatened him or kept talking about the Agency.
“Look, my friend,” he said, a little too patronising for Robert’s liking. “I don’t know who you are. Yes, you’ve guessed my wife’s name, but I only have one child, so whoever you’ve paid for your information you’d better ask for a refund. And I’ve worked around here, in one of these buildings, all my fifteen years. But, I’m glad to say, they haven’t been with you. Now, are you going to let me go and take these coffees back before they get cold or am I going to have to call you a doctor?”
Robert dug deep into his training and backed away, not knowing what was going on but knowing not to push anything at that stage. Maybe Paul knew he was miked or being listened to and was, therefore, keeping his good friend out of it.
But all too quickly Robert started to fear. What if it had all been changed? What if everything he’d once known was now gone for good and how could he ever know the extent of the damage? It would be hard for him to spot but he needed to know before going back into the field to prepare himself for whatever might come next.
