The Keepers of the Persian Gate

by Sydney Maurice

  “Ma’am, do you mind if my aide and I have a moment in private? Matters of state have arisen which require my immediate attention. I am sure you understand,” explained the Congressman.

  “Of course, Congressman. There are reflection pods on the far side of this floor and you are free to make use of them,” replied Shannon.

  A bit like the boardroom, the reflection pods each jutted out from the building ever so slightly. They were designed for board members so they could conduct external business in private or if they required time to consider votes or propositions. When the pair got inside one of the pods, Paddy conducted a very quick sweep for bugs but couldn’t find any.

  “So what’s this all about, Paddy?” asked the Congressman.

  “There’s a man in that room called Adam Scott. He is a Senior Partner in the law firm I work for back in London,” explained Paddy.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” asked the Congressman.

  “I don’t know. William Dunlop had connections to the board but parted company with them. I can’t be certain if Scott is on our side,” replied Paddy.

  “How well do you know this Scott?” asked the Congressman.

  “I’ve actually never been introduced. I’m only new with the firm. I recognise him from photographs,” replied Paddy.

  “Will he recognise you?”

  “I don’t know. But would you be willing to take the risk?” replied Paddy.

  “What’s the plan, then?” asked the Congressman.

  Paddy pondered the situation momentarily. “The plan is, you go and tell Shannon that I’ve got to do some important work on your behalf. Make something up - tell her I will need undisturbed use of this pod. You go into that meeting and try to find out as much about Adam Scott’s reasons for being here as possible - without being too obvious.”

  “I think I can manage that,” said the Congressman.

  The Congressman did as Paddy instructed while Paddy waited in the pod to make his move. After five minutes, he opened the door slightly to get a view of Shannon’s location. Her desk was located outside the boardroom just around the corner. Fortunately, Paddy wouldn’t have to pass her to make it to the fire door. However, he would have to be extra quiet. After a few moments of hesitation, Paddy moved into the corridor carrying his shoes in his hand and gently shut the door. He moved down the hallway and through the first door. Remaining quiet, he carefully removed the panel on the fire alarm and took out the fuse. He then opened the door to the stairwell.

  Meanwhile, back in the boardroom, the Congressman had begun mingling with the other attendees prior to the meeting. Adam Scott appeared to be locked in a rather heated discussion with Robert Jackson about something. Congressman Charles made vain attempts to get closer to the pair so he could hear their conversation, but he wasn’t very successful. Unfortunately, the Congressman had been pinned down by one of the big tobacco CEOs who was systematically reading him the riot act about the latest round of federal censorship on cigarette advertising.

  As the last board member arrived, Robert Jackson took the Chair.

  “Gentlemen, I declare this meeting of the shadow board open and ask that any items of new business which have not been approved in the draft minutes be addressed now,” said Robert Jackson.

  Adam Scott stood up.

  “Yes, Mr. Scott,” said Jackson.

  “Gentleman, I must bring to this board’s attention the sad, tragic and untimely death of William Dunlop, a colleague and a friend. I would like to extend my sympathies and condolences to you personally, Mr. Jackson, and to the wider family,” said Scott.

  “Hear, hear.” Calls came from around the table.

  With that, another man stood up. “As a representative from Sefton & Grey, I would also like to extend my condolences for the loss of William Dunlop, and for that of Aamir Machete, another esteemed senior member of this board.”

  “Thank you both, gentlemen,” answered Jackson. “As the current board members will know, William Dunlop not only provided legal advice to this board for all matters outside of the US, but he is also was my son-in-law. It is indeed a sad time for the family. I want to thank you, Mr. Scott, for coming today. It is unfortunate that you are not prepared to take up the post as William Dunlop’s replacement on this board. However, I understand you appear on behalf of Sir Mark Glover, who has indicated his willingness to take up William’s seat.

  “As you all know, Aamir Machete was this board’s link to our former affiliates in the Middle East. It is greatly unfortunate that he, too, died in this unfortunate set of circumstances. However, we remain honoured to continue our partnership with Sefton & Grey and will continue to seek its counsel in relation to federal matters,” Jackson concluded.

  Back in the field base, McGregor and Williamson were jotting down as much information as possible. This was all news to them. Through the Congressman’s tie pin camera, Langley was able to identify several interesting members in the room, including a Saudi oil minister and the Chinese Ambassador to the EU. There were also one or two home-grown oil billionaires dotted around the room. At the far end of the table sat a well-known New Zealand media magnate and a Swedish owner of a large commercial cargo company. There also appeared to be a NATO commander in attendance, Stephen Marriot, a Canadian General based in the Mediterranean. A representative from the Board of the Federal Reserve was in attendance. The final member of interest was identified as Jared Golden, Israeli Minister for Defence.

  “Jesus, if you were trying to put together a committee to rule the world…” commented McGregor.

  “Then you wouldn’t look far past the people in that room, I know,” replied Williamson.

  Back on the stairs, Paddy had made it to the seventh floor. The door was indeed slightly ajar, held open by a ladder on its side. Everything was covered in plastic tarpaulin and there was a smell which indicated that the walls had been freshly painted. Paddy walked over to the door to the server room and removed the ceiling panel as instructed to get over the other side. Once in the room he quickly located the secure cable and planted the device to provide an uplink for Langley. He exited the floor and sprinted up the ten flights of stairs back to the seventeenth floor. As he composed himself and walked back into the corridor, however, he came face to face with Shannon.

  “Mr. Trimble, I noticed you weren’t in your pod. What were you doing on the fire stairs?”

  “Oh, I got a bit lost. I was looking for the bathroom,” replied Paddy.

  “It’s over here, sir,” said Shannon, with a suspicious look on her face.

  Meanwhile, Langley stepped up their efforts to download documents from Clarkson’s server. Back in the meeting, the Congressman was asked to leave as a vote took place regarding his proposed appointment. When Paddy exited the restroom, he walked over to the waiting area and sat beside the Congressman, giving him a quick wink as he sat down. They waited for several minutes before the Congressman was called back in. Paddy returned to one of the reflection pods and pulled out his touch pad to open a connection with McGregor. There he was able to get live access to documents coming through.

  “I think there is going to be a bit of a process of discovery to go through for this. There’s over two million documents on this server,” said Paddy.

  “Agreed, we have our guys at Langley looking into it,” replied McGregor.

  Paddy waited patiently in the reflection pod. After about an hour, the meeting had drawn to a close, at which stage the Congressman returned.

  “Well, what happened?” asked Paddy.

  “It was a strange one if I am honest. The content of the meeting did not appear to provide the type of implicating evidence which McGregor had hoped for. Much of the discussion surrounded the building of new power plants in Africa,” explained the Congressman.

  “That’s odd; it’s almost as if they knew we were listening,” said Paddy.

  Paddy and the Congressman waited until Adam Scott had left the building before trying to make their own exit.
As they walked out of the pod, Paddy heard a loud bang and then he felt nothing. When he came to, he was lying on the floor of boardroom with the Congressman and Robert Jackson seated at the far end. The Congressman was not wearing his tie pin and Paddy’s, too, had been removed.

  “Mr. Trimble…How good of you to finally wake up. You’ve been snoozing away there for quite some time,” said Jackson. “The Congressman was just explaining to me how you and the CIA have concocted some sort of illegal operation on US soil in order to frame this organisation.”

  “Wha… but…” said a dazed Paddy. His head was badly hurt and he had clearly been concussed.

  “Don’t worry, your friends in the CIA have all been arrested by the FBI,” stated the Congressman.

  “How could you, you traitor!” shouted Paddy.

  The Congressman remained seated and just smirked at Paddy.

  “He could, because he knew what was right. Things are now in motion that you cannot stop, Mr. Trimble. The Arab Spring has begun. The Keepers of the Persian Gate wanted peaceful revolution, but they could only get so far with it without the appropriate trigger. The Keepers didn’t want a major war with the West. However, the time has now come for precisely that. When we have that trigger, Israel will feel obliged to protect itself and it will act for its western counterparts by seizing the Suez Canal and by nuking targets in Syria and Iran,” said Jackson, moving closer to Paddy and crouching down at his head.

  “You maniac!” said Paddy, spitting blood.

  “You may think that, but when the trigger happens, the West will back Israel in its endeavours,” replied Jackson. “I know more about you than you think, Mr. Trimble. Former British Army Intelligence, experience in the Parachute Regiment, worked with the SEALs, International Criminal Court, and now the Army Legal Services. What a shame it was that Will lost his life in the way that he did. I’m sure he probably made an impression on you as well,” mocked Jackson.

  “So you’re going to kill me now, I assume,” said Paddy.

  “No, not before you are paraded in front of the media as the man who was planning a major terrorist attack in the US, and was working for The Keepers of the Persian Gate. Oh, I can see the headlines. Your obituary has already been written, courtesy of our men in the media. After all, you’re on the run from MI5, you’ve stolen a plane, you’ve been involved in the attack of two RAF planes, and now you’ve been caught trying to steal information from an organisation with significant links to the government of the United States. I’d say you’re going to prison for a very long time, Mr. Trimble, but you and I both know you’ll never make it to trial alive,” stated Jackson.

  Suddenly there were sounds of gunshots out in the corridor.

  “What the hell?” shouted the Congressman.

  Robert Jackson turned to look at Paddy.

  “Who did you call? What trackers do you still have on you?” said Jackson.

  Company security burst into the room, grabbing the Congressman and Jackson and taking them to a secure part of the building. There was a firefight going on in the corridor. As the Congressman and Jackson left the room, Jackson gave a nod to a remaining armed guard who walked over to Paddy and pointed his gun at him. Paddy closed his eyes. A moment later, there was a shot. However, it hadn’t hit Paddy; it had hit the wall behind him. Paddy opened his eyes to see the man holding his hand out.

  “Who are you?” asked Paddy, taking the man’s hand and pulling himself to his feet.

  “No time to talk. We have to get out of here now.” The man spoke with a British accent.

  The man set several incendiary devices around the boardroom as they left and as they hit the corridor he pushed a button, engulfing the boardroom in flames. They walked to one of the reflection pods on the other side of the building and the man opened fire on the reflection pod’s window, blowing it to pieces. He swiftly opened a bag with an abseiling kit which he attached to a pillar beside the door.

  “Right, let’s go.”

  Somewhat bemused, Paddy joined him and they immediately jumped out the window abseiling down the seventeen floors to the ground. The far side of the building did not appear to have any guards within sight. However, there was a Lincoln Continental parked waiting for them. When they hit the ground, Paddy hurt his leg. The man picked Paddy up, threw him into the back seat and got in next to him. The car then sped off in the opposite direction of the way they entered the compound. They approached a back gate and slowed. There were two guards. The driver very casually pushed a button to open the sunroof of the car and Paddy’s rescuer quickly popped his head up and opened fire with his M-15, taking out the two guards with single precision shots. The driver then sped up and smashed through the gate. The car then sped off down a side road away from the freeway.

  “You keep interesting company, Mr. Trimble,” said the driver with a distinctive accent.

  Paddy was sitting behind the driver and wasn’t able to make out the driver’s face.

  “Who are you?” asked Paddy.

  “I’m sorry, we’ve never met before,” said the man. He turned around and smiled. “The name’s Adam Scott.”

  Paddy was shocked. Given the events that had just occurred, Scott was the last person on earth he expected to be on his side. Up until now he had proceeded on the basis that Scott was a component of the Clarkson conspiracy. “But, I thought…”

  “I know, you probably assumed because I attended today’s meeting that I was part of it. Well, far from it. I knew you were in that meeting today because our friends in MI6 have been watching you rather closely.”

  The man beside him put out his hand. “Jeff Bowers. MI6. Pleased to meet you,” said Paddy’s rescuer.

  “I was attending today’s meeting to find out the depth of the treachery at Clarkson,” explained Scott. “That man Robert Jackson is an evil bastard, hell bent on destroying the world for profit. Bowers here has been on the ground in Clarkson ever since William Dunlop brought Clarkson’s dealings to the attention of MI6.”

  “Did you get what you were looking for, Mr. Trimble?” asked Bowers.

  “No, the CIA agents I was working with were lifted by the FBI, according to Jackson,” said Paddy.

  “You mean these chaps?” asked Scott, pointing to a car parked at the side of the road.

  “Now I’m totally confused,” said Paddy.

  “MI6 got in contact with them immediately following your capture. It gave them time to evacuate their field base. We have a jet waiting on the tarmac at NASA’s airfield,” explained Bowers.

  McGregor and Craig walked to the window and pulled Paddy out of the car.

  “Hell, boy, don’t you look like shit!” exclaimed Craig.

  “Thanks. So, where to next?” asked Paddy.

  “I think it’s time we paid your old friend the Mechanic a little visit, don’t you?” asked McGregor.

  “You read my mind, McGregor.” Said Paddy.

  The two cars drove across the back roads of Houston to the NASA air base. The CIA and MI6 both had established connections within NASA and they had used these to arrange transport. NASA operated under its own special jurisdiction, into which the FBI and local police were not authorised to delve. Their jurisdiction was controlled by the Air Force, and an exit from a NASA airport was the last thing that FBI would expect.

  As they entered the NASA compound, they were given the all-clear by security and escorted to the airfield. Various parts of rockets and space craft were exhibited along the route like relics in a museum. A single C-19 waited for them on the tarmac. As the team got out of the car, they were greeted by the local airfield commander, Major General Zach Guzek.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to NASA. I hear you had a run-in with the FBI. I just want to say, for the record, that this plane is on a routine flight to a base in the Netherlands, and you were never here,” said Guzek.

  “Thank you, Major General, for your understanding,” replied McGregor.

  “Not at all, gentlemen. Now quickly get your asses on tha
t plane before the FBI try to lock down this airport. They have put a six hour flight ban on George Bush and Hobby. We’re the only airport putting birds in the sky at this moment in time!” said the Major General.

  Paddy, Scott, Jeff, McGregor, Williamson and Craig were quickly seated aboard the C-19. As soon as they were aboard, the hatch was shut and the plane immediately taxied to the runway to take off for Holland.

  Paddy turned to McGregor. “So, other than their respective positions on this shadow board, what do all the members have in common?” asked Paddy.

  McGregor nodded to Williamson, who pulled out his iPad and began going through those identified.

  “We found out that they all seem to be members of one organisation, namely the Acropolis,” said Williamson.

  He explained that the Acropolis was an extremely secretive organisation that funded various Western companies engaged in business in the Middle East. As such, Langley’s profile on the Acropolis was scarcely populated, but it did mention that its members held a number of positions of power in Europe and the United States. However, they were not designated as a threat.

  “I’ll get MI6 to have a look into what they have on them as well,” said Jeff.

  “Just be careful. Too many questions might lead to us being found out again,” said McGregor.

  “It appears that Clarkson is merely a front for the Acropolis, or a gateway,” explained Williamson.

  “So I’m confused… It’s the Acropolis versus the Keepers of the Persian Gate… East versus West…And who’s side are we on? Surely it’s the West?” asked Craig.

  “It’s not quite as simple as that, sir,” replied McGregor.

  “It’s starting to make sense,” said Paddy.

  “What is?” asked Scott.

  “Well, Jackson had William Dunlop killed because he would not join the Acropolis. When Will married his daughter, Jackson asked Will to join the board of Clarkson and whilst he worked as General Counsel, he believed that Clarkson was a force for good in the Middle East. However, when the Keepers of the Persian Gate initiated the Arab Spring, Clarkson and the Acropolis panicked because they couldn’t control the new incoming regimes in the way they had before. They demanded that the Keepers give the Acropolis influence over the new governments. When the Keepers refused, the Acropolis and Clarkson cut ties with them.