Next morning Jonathan slept fairly late since he expected a late evening of work. He spent what was left of the morning reading the book he had bought in Richmond the day before. He made himself a lunch from some ham, cheese and a baguette that he found in the refrigerator and after lunch he watched an old black and white movie on television for a couple of hours. Before he knew it, it was nearly four thirty and Roger called to say he was waiting outside. Jonathan went down in the lift and out through the front door to Roger’s car.
Jonathan and Roger didn’t talk much as they headed across the river via Tower Bridge and drove into the southern suburbs of London.
“The cleaning company’s office is just around the corner,” said Roger as he pulled the car to a halt on the side of the main road. “I just want to go through what we are going to do and make sure that we have got a clear plan. Pass me that briefcase that’s behind my seat, would you Jonathan?”
Jonathan reached behind the driver’s seat, pulled out the briefcase and passed it to Roger. When Roger opened the briefcase, it was almost empty. Jonathan saw a small earpiece and an envelope. Roger picked up the earpiece and handed it to Jonathan. It looked like a typical hearing aid with a piece that fitted behind the ear, and had a smaller piece, on a thin wire, that fitted inside the ear.
“This actually is a hearing aid,” said Roger, “but we’ve modified it to transmit and receive so I can talk to you and you can talk to me. Remember, Mendellson thinks you only speak Spanish, so unless it is a critical emergency I think you should just grunt quietly – one grunt for yes, two grunts for no. Got that?”
Jonathan grunted once. Roger burst out laughing and pulled an earpiece on a wire out of his jacket pocket.
“Can you hear me?” said Roger.
Jonathan grunted once.
“Everything all right?” said Roger.
“Sure. I’m starting to look forward to this mission.”
“That’s the way it usually goes,” said Roger. “When you are waiting around for the action to start you are as nervous as hell, but once you are on the way the adrenalin kicks in and you are ready for anything.”
Jonathan smiled.
“I’ll take you round the corner to the cleaning company office in a moment. We’ll be seeing Marcia who runs the company. She will get you a uniform and then we’ll come back to the car and drive over to Mendellson’s office just off Whitehall. Marcia will follow us and get you into the office, and I will wait outside. I’ll pull you out as soon as I can.
Roger got out a small piece of paper with some writing in Spanish.
“He terminado limpieza de su oficina, señor.”
Jonathan read the words aloud.
“Your Spanish accent is remarkably good,” said Roger.
“Twenty years living in Southern California.”
“Of course!”
Roger laughed as he started the car and pulled into a side road. He stopped again in front of a small row of shops, one of which had a sign on the front “City Contract Cleaning Services”.
Jonathan and Roger got out of the car and Jonathan followed Roger up to the door of the shop. Roger opened the door and stepped inside and Jonathan followed. A counter ran across the width of the shop, and behind it was a door to the rest of the building. On the counter was a bell, which Roger hit smartly. The door opened and out stepped a lady.
“Roj!” she said and held her arms out wide.
“Marcia!” said Roger, hugging the lady. “Long time no see. How’s business?”
“We could do better, as always, but it is so good to see you, Roger. And who is your friend?”
“This is Jonathan.”
Marcia came out from behind the counter and gave Jonathan a hug. “A friend of Roger’s is most certainly a friend of mine.”
She returned behind the counter. “Now, Roger, we have a little business to discuss, no?”
“Marcia, as I told you on the phone, just for this evening I want you to put Jonathan in to clean Lord Mendellson’s office. Could you do that?”
“Everything is arranged. I have given the regular guy, Pedro, the night off. There is no problem. But Jonathan, you come with me. I will get you a uniform. Come.”
Jonathan went behind the counter and followed Marcia through the door and into the back of the building. He emerged five minutes later wearing a crisp white overall bearing the City Contract Cleaners logo and the name badge embroidered with the name Pedro.
Marcia emerged from behind Jonathan with a beaming smile. “He looks good Roger, no?”
“Perfect, just perfect.”
“He can keep the overalls as a gift from me, Roger.”
“What do you think of that, Pedro?” said Roger.
“Perdone, yo solo hablo español, señor,” said Jonathan with a grin.
“Excellent!” said Roger, clapping his hands.
Roger then opened his briefcase and took out the envelope. “Here’s a little donation to the next office party, Marcia,” he said as he passed her the envelope.
“Roger! You really shouldn’t. I’m just so glad to help you. But thank you, you are so kind. Is there anything else I can do to help you Roger?”
“Actually there is, Marcia. Can you meet us outside Lord Mendellson’s building and take Pedro in?”
“Of course, Roger, I will see you there at seven o’clock this evening.
“Goodbye until then,” said Roger and he stepped outside, followed by Jonathan. They got into Roger’s car.
“I’m actually starting to feel more confident about this,” said Jonathan as Roger started the engine and pulled away from the kerb.
“That’s good,” said Roger, “you certainly look the part in that uniform. We really cannot go anywhere with you dressed like that. Why don’t we park up on the Albert Embankment for a while and then we can meet Marcia.
Roger drove through the streets of South London and eventually reached the river and the Albert Embankment, which ran along the opposite side of the river from Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. He parked the car alongside the kerb.
“You can see both the MI5 and the MI6 buildings from here,” said Roger. Pointing, he said, “MI5 are right across the river from here, Thames House, and MI6 are on this side at Vauxhall Cross.”
“Hiding in plain sight?” said Jonathan.
“That’s the general idea,” said Roger. “The theory is that everyone is so occupied by their magnificent buildings that they don’t notice the detail! Have you seen the GCHQ building down in Cheltenham?”
“No.”
“Bloody enormous great doughnut shaped building. Probably half of the population of Cheltenham work there, but it’s still a pretty secure place.”
“I’d be interested to see GCHQ sometime.”
“You will, Jonathan, I’m sure you will. Now we have you on our side, we can get involved in a lot more projects. We’ve had to let several projects go because we just did not have the resources to pursue them.”
“You know, it was less than a month ago that I was telling Karen how bored I was.”
“I don’t think you’ll be bored working with us.”
They sat for a while in the gathering gloom of twilight, watching as the lights on buildings on both sides of the river turned on. The lights along the Albert Embankment illuminated the road on which they were parked.
Roger checked his watch. “Time to go.”
Jonathan breathed very deeply and exhaled. “Let’s do it.”
Roger drove down the Albert Embankment and crossed the river using the Vauxhall Bridge. He then worked his way up through Westminster, round Parliament Square and up into Whitehall. He turned off Whitehall into a side street between rows of government buildings.
“This is where Mendellson’s office is,” said Roger as he pulled up next to the kerb. “Marcia should be here in a few minutes.”
A white minibus with the City Contract Cleaning logo on the side pulled up in front of Roger’s car and eight cleaners, all in matching w
hite overalls, climbed out. Marcia climbed out of the driver’s seat and led the group into the building. She emerged about ten minutes later and walked over to the passenger side of Roger’s car. Jonathan opened the door and got out to meet her. As they walked towards the entrance to the building, Jonathan heard Roger’s voice in his earpiece.
“Everything OK?”
Jonathan gave one grunt.
“Good man!” came the response in the earpiece, “now go break a leg!”
Jonathan recognized the encouraging phrase given to actors just before they stepped onto the stage. By this time, they had reached the entrance to the building and Marcia was unlocking the door. They entered the building and Marcia walked over to the lift. The doors opened and she and Jonathan stepped inside. She pressed the button for the fourth floor. The doors closed and the lift started up.
“I don’t want to know what you are up to, Jonny boy, but whatever it is, good luck. Your cleaners trolley is in the utility cupboard just there. I’ll be waiting at the front door when you come out.”
Jonathan smiled. The lift reached the fourth floor and the doors opened. “It’s the third office on the left,” said Marcia. His name is on the door. Just take out the trash and run your feather duster over all the woodwork, just like you would clean your own room, Jonny boy.”
Jonathan suddenly felt very nervous, but there was no turning back now. He stepped out of the lift. Marcia remained in the lift as it returned to the ground floor and Jonathan felt very alone. He collected his cleaner’s trolley from the utility cupboard just across from the lift and he pushed it along the corridor, stopping outside the third door on the left. He knocked on the door. “Limpiador, señor”.
“Come in,” said a gruff voice from inside the office.
Jonathan picked up his feather duster and opened the door. Lord Mendellson was not at his desk, he was sitting in a leather chair near the window, reading a sheaf of papers and making notes on them occasionally. He appeared to be totally uninterested in Jonathan.
Jonathan picked up the waste paper basket and took it out into the corridor. He emptied it into the larger trash bin on his cleaner’s trolley and returned the empty basket to the side of Mendellson’s desk. He started to clean the furniture with his feather duster, trying not to look at Mendellson. He dusted over the books and the bookcase.
Then he faced Mendellson and put him into a seizure. Mendellson’s eyes closed and he looked as if he was asleep. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.
Jonathan jumped as a voice came through his earpiece. It was Roger.
“Are you into his office yet?”
Jonathan grunted once.
“Have you got him into a seizure?”
Jonathan grunted once again.
“Good man, take care in there.”
Jonathan started thinking about key words to start retrieving the memory stream.
“Grendan West. Black Ops. Meeting. Terrorism.”
The memory stream started to flow.
I am in my car, driving myself this time. I don’t want my government driver involved in this because I must keep it ultra secret. It is the middle of a gloomy January afternoon. I am driving down a country lane in the Thames Valley near Marlow. This is near where Grendan lives and we always have our meetings in remote places. I can see a pub ahead on the left. It is called The Queens Head. That is where I am meeting Grendan West. We need to talk about the assignment that the PM has given me. I am turning left into the pub car park. There is only one other car in the car park and I recognize it as Grendan’s Mercedes. I hope that we will not be disturbed in our conversation. I am pulling up next to Grendan’s car. I am getting out and walking across the car park and I am having to bend low to walk in the door because it is a very old building. I am looking round the bar and I see Grendan sitting at a table in the corner, with his back to me. I am buying an orange juice from the lady behind the bar and now I am walking over to Grendan’s table.
“Good afternoon, George,” says Grendan in his gravelly voice, without looking round.
I am sitting down across the table from Grendan.
“Good afternoon.”
“So what do you need on this particular occasion?”
I tell Grendan about the assignment that the PM has given me, to raise people’s acceptance of anti-terrorism legislation.
“Well, we need another terrorist attack. That would wake the buggers up.” Grendan sounds almost disinterested as he talks about something that could kill or maim many people.
I tell Grendan that we need to avoid injuries to our citizens.
“How about a mock terrorist attack?” says Grendan.
I say, “Good idea if you can pull it off.”
“Damage the infrastructure but avoid injuries. That way it will cause the most inconvenience but at the least risk,” says Grendan.
I say, “Will you handle it?”
He says, “When do you want it done?”
I say, “Couple of weeks. Does that give you long enough to organize it?”
He says, “Leave it with me, old chap. You’ll know when it happens. I’ll get our tame terrorist Sean Donnelly to do it. He needs a purpose in life, something to keep him out of the pub.”
I don’t know who Sean Donnelly is and I don’t need to know.
I stand up and say, “Remember, no civilian casualties.”
Grendan waves me away and I leave the pub.
Jonathan picked up his feather duster and dusted the top of the filing cabinet, then he moved over towards the door. He brought Mendellson out of his seizure. Mendellson opened his eyes, shook his head and went back to reading his papers.
“He terminado limpieza de su oficina, señor.”
Mendellson made a dismissive sort of wave and Jonathan opened the door, slipped out into the corridor and quietly closed the door behind him. He felt thoroughly drained. He returned the cleaner’s trolley to the cupboard at the end of the corridor, then walked over to the lifts and pressed the call button.
It seemed to take an age for the lift to arrive. Jonathan got in and pressed the button for the ground floor. The lift door closed and the lift started down. He realized his brow was damp with sweat, and wiped it with his sleeve. The lift finally arrived at the ground floor, the doors opened, and Jonathan stepped out into the entrance hall. There were the other cleaners sitting on benches in the hall and Marcia was standing talking to the night watchman who was sitting at his desk. Marcia took no notice of Jonathan.
He walked over and sat on the bench with the other cleaners. Presumably, they had finished their work and were waiting for the rest of the cleaners to finish. He prayed that the cleaners would not engage him in conversation. He had pretty much exhausted his knowledge of Spanish. He folded his arms and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.
He thought he might have dozed off for a few minutes because the next thing he felt was a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. He opened his eyes and was relieved to see it was Marcia. He stood up and followed her to the front door where the other cleaners were waiting.
Jonathan stepped outside, careful to be the last cleaner to leave. As they reached the pavement, the group of cleaners turned left to follow Marcia to the minibus, and Jonathan turned right. He hoped that none of the cleaners would notice he was not travelling with them. Roger drew up in his car and Jonathan quickly got in. He rubbed his face and exclaimed “Jeez! I’m glad that’s over!”
Roger pulled away from the kerb, passed the cleaners’ minibus, and drove down the street. “We’ll go back to the Horseferry Road office. Fergus and Karen are already there. Can you pull off those overalls as we drive?”
Jonathan slipped off his shoes and unzipped the overalls, then he squirmed around in the passenger seat to pull his arms out of the overalls, then pulled his legs out. He bundled up the overalls and threw the bundle into the back seat. He slipped his shoes on again.
“By the way,” said Roger, “you did a cracking job there.”
“I’ve never been so nervous in all my life!”
“You did well for a first mission.”
It was only a short drive back to the Horseferry Road office and Roger pulled the car into an underground car park below the building. They got out and rode up in the lift to the corridor where Roger’s office was situated. As they entered the office, there was a loud pop of a champagne cork and Mac was pouring glasses of champagne.
“No longer a virgin, Jonathan?” said Mac. He put down the bottle of champagne and shook Jonathan very firmly by the hand. “Well done, well done.” He handed Jonathan a glass of champagne. Roger had already served himself, as had Karen who was sitting in the chair usually occupied by Mary during the day.
Mac raised his glass. “Here is a toast to the latest member of Operation Checkmate. He has certainly earned his stripes tonight!. To Jonathan!”
Roger and Karen raised their glasses and echoed, “To Jonathan!” and everyone took a sip of their champagne. Mac refilled all the glasses and perched on the corner of the desk.
“First things first,” said Mac. “Jonathan, did you get a successful memory trace?”
“Yes I did. I need to dictate it to you while the image is still strong.”
“Let’s go inside,” said Mac.
They all transferred to Roger’s inner office and Roger opened the sliding doors to the control centre. Karen flipped on the main switch and all the monitors and computer screens came to life. Roger sat at his desk and everyone else sat facing him.
Karen picked up a pencil and notepad and Jonathan related the meeting between Mendellson and West, the planned mock terrorist attack and the name Sean Donnelly.”
When Jonathan had finished, Mac said, “Excellent work, Jonathan, really excellent. Well I think we can safely say that Mendellson is now out of the loop. He is too close to the PM to be involved in the actual operation.”
“Who is Sean Donnelly?” said Jonathan.
“Bomb maker,” said Mac. “He used to be in the Provisional IRA. I bumped into him when I was doing a stint in Belfast when I was with MI5. When the Provos disarmed during the peace process in 1998, some of the Provos refused to disarm and they formed a new group called the Real IRA to carry on the fight. Sean had been a bomb maker for the Provos and then he joined the Real IRA as a bomb maker. He was arrested in 1998, trying to drive a car load of explosives across the border. Sentenced to thirty years.”
“So how can he be involved with Grendan West?” said Karen.
“MI5 got him let out of jail after he had served thirteen years,” said Mac. “They wanted to pick his brain about the Real IRA bombs so they could defuse them. His specialty was using mobile phones to detonate his bombs.”
“So now he’s working for Black Ops?” said Jonathan.
“It certainly looks that way,” said Mac.
“Have you got a picture of him?” said Roger.
“I’m sure we could find one fairly quickly,” said Mac, “When he was arrested his face was in every newspaper in the country. Karen, can you try to pull up a picture and then start AFRS and see if we can track him down?”
Karen rolled her chair over to the control centre desk and started on her task.
Meanwhile Mac continued to analyse Karen’s notes. He was thinking aloud. “An attack on infrastructure like a railway line or a bridge would have the desired effect, and it could be done when no people were around.”
“We are not going to be able to get close to Grendan West,” said Roger, “so it looks like we will need to find Sean Donnelly.”
“Last time I heard of him he was living in a house that MI5 had bought for him in North West London.”
“Found him!” Karen called from the control centre. “Twenty five AFRS hits in Willesden.”
“Of course,” said Mac. “Willesden has a large Irish population. He would fit in there without being noticed.”
“Can we do anything more with this tonight?” said Roger.
Mac yawned, “I think we have all had a long day. Why don’t we go and get something to eat and get an early night and we can take a fresh look at all this tomorrow.”
The rest of the group murmured their approval, and they all walked out of the office with Roger bringing up the rear and locking up the office behind them.
Chapter 27
Terror Illusion Page 28
