by M G Leslie
As she stood out the front of the club, she hailed a taxi and went straight to the airport where she boarded a flight using a false name and passport that she had previously arranged as a contingency in case things went wrong.
By the time the UK security services had suitably briefed the UK Police of the involvement of Club One and they had in turn contacted the Philippine Police and provided sufficient evidence to convince them to execute a raid on the building, Lucy was in a first class seat enjoying a glass of champagne.
Her view was initially one of anger, and then, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again!”
CHAPTER 11 – Back Home Once Again
The following day, as the Police and rescue teams started to clear up the devastation at Saunton Sands, Price and the SAS team were back in the UK.
Price was scheduled to report to the SIS head office at Vauxhall Cross to brief everyone on the events that had taken place. However, he exaggerated his medical injuries and instead, visited the SAS headquarters in Hereford.
Chas escorted Price through security, where he had arranged a secret meeting with the head of the SAS – the DSF (Director of Special Forces).
Unlike most military bases, Price noticed that the usual protocols were not being followed – whilst some saluting took place, there was a mixture of men in uniform and in plane clothes and the majority of communications were on a first name basis.
As they walked in to a small plain room that represented the DSF’s office, Chas introduced Price, “Sir, this is Price, he’s the spook I mentioned.“
“Morning Mr Price. We’ve actually spoken before, because I was present at the briefing before you set off on your expedition.”
“Yes I remember Sir, nice to meet you again,” then Price reached out with his left, rather than right hand, to shake the man’s hand, apologising as he did, as his right arm was in a sling as a result of his injuries.
“Yes, I hear you had a rough time,” said the DSF, “Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”
Price went on to explain about his conversation with Lucy, where she knew that he’d commented on her ‘nice eyes’. “It was a flippant remark Sir, nothing more and I can’t imagine that someone would have leaked that to her as an isolated piece of information. Which means they probably leaked the entire discussion, and she happened to remember that part as she spoke to me – perhaps because she’s a little self-conscious about her eyes – I really don’t know. But I do think we have a leak.”
“I agree,” the DSF replied, “The guilty party may have even recorded the entire meeting and played it back, because I don’t recall being searched on the way in to that meeting. There were the usual metal detectors, but I recall thinking at the time that security was a little light – especially where you guys are concerned, as you’re normally paranoid about secrecy.”
“Very true Sir,” replied Price, “We do go to great lengths.”
“Unlike the other lot across the river, who seem quite relaxed by comparison,” the DSF continued.
The DSF was referring to the SIS sister service – the Security Service, more commonly known as MI5. Their offices are at Millbank on the north bank of the Thames, a short distance downstream from the famous SIS offices at Vauxhall Cross on the south side of the river.
“Remind me who was in the room with us can you?” the DSF asked.
“Yes Sir,” said Price. “As you can imagine, I’ve replayed it in my head a thousand times. I didn’t catch all the names if I’m honest, but I do remember most of the titles. So I’m hoping, between us, we can figure out who they all were,” and at that point he produced a piece of handwritten paper from his pocket which he placed on the desk. It read:
Me - yes
Director of Special Forces (DSF) - yes
Head of Security Service - yes
Chief of SIS – yes
SIS liaison officer for Asia - no
Foreign Secretary - yes
Foreign Secretaries “assistance” – didn’t get the full title – no
Pete – SIS Manila on the phone - yes
Chair of Joint Intelligence Committee – yes
Two permanent / private undersecretaries from the MOD I think - no
SIS Chief of Staff - yes
Service heads for Army, Navy and Air force – yes to all three
Head of the armed forces – yes
The DSF looked at the list and then said, “Once you have politicians involved, there’s no telling who has the information. What’s the yes or no – I presume you’re judging?”
“I am Sir,” Price replied.
“Well I’m glad I was granted a yes, which I presume is good,” he replied with a brief smile.
“Indeed Sir. The people I’ve listed as yes have too much to lose than to engage in something like this. And speaking frankly Sir, we have dossiers on all of them – as I’m sure you know. As a senior officer, I’m made aware of any so-called ‘red flags’ – you know, people who are likely to be susceptible to bribes or the like. None of the ‘yes’ people are getting flagged currently. Although, I should add, the only reason some are no, is because I don’t know them – it’s not to say they’re in any way guilty.”
“I understand that. So why not take this to your SIS head?” the DSF asked.
“If I book a meeting with him, the SIS liaison officer for Asia will get to know and he’s quite knew to the role, so I don’t know if we can trust him yet Sir.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to see the MI5 Dossiers on all the above plus all the home office and foreign office records relating to their international travel, phone calls, emails and other communications as well as their full education and work history – most of that should be in the MI5 dossiers already, but I want to see everything we have. I also want the same for Mike to see if they’re linked and anything we can find on that girl, Lucy. I specifically want to know who has been to the Philippines in recent years.”
The DSF thought for a moment, “What you’re asking for is beyond my powers to give – at least directly. But…. I can facilitate. For what it’s worth, I agree with many of your judgements, although, not where the security service or foreign secretary are concerned. Believe you me, I’ve been let down by those fellas a few times.”
Price was visibly surprised, but he was sitting across a man he had enormous respect for, so he trusted his judgement.
The DSF continued, “I will facilitate a meeting that will lead to you getting everything you need. I can’t stand formal gatherings – tomorrow’s Sunday, so we’ll have a pub lunch in London – I’ll let you know where. Chas get his mobile number please.”
“Sir,” replied Chas.
At that point the meeting dissolved and Price made his way back down to his home in south west London, only to receive an SMS later the same day, “Midday tomorrow, pub overlooking the river from the south side, just by London bridge – can’t remember the name but you can’t miss it – table for three booked in your name.”
Price smiled, as he knew it well, although he was a little surprised at the choice of a pub in central London and wondered who would be the third guest. Anyway, that would be for tomorrow, so he relaxed and went to bed – his arm was already starting to recover, as it turned out it had only been badly bruised and not fractured.
The next day, Price rose fairly early. He was a creature of habit and enjoyed a walk first thing in the morning, where he would buy a newspaper, stop for a coffee and some breakfast, before returning to his apartment to get ready for the day. On this day, however, he was a little more nervous than usual, as Lucy was still at large. He didn’t think there was any way she could get to him in the UK – and frankly, what did she have to gain by that. But in any case, he carried his Smith and Wesson in the pocket of his jacket – as it turned out, needlessly.
By 11:00, Price was on a train heading for central London and arrived at the pub at 11:30. He wanted to be there well ahead of t
ime, so that he could stand in a quiet corner and watch the DSF and mysterious third person arrive. He always did this so that he could size people up before greeting them – and even though he was at home and not officially ‘working’, he couldn’t help treating this like any other business meeting.
At 12:15 he saw a black London taxi pull up at the side of the road and the DSF get out of the left door. Then, and to his complete surprise, his boss, the SIS Chief got out of the other door. As they started to walk towards the pub entrance, Price slowly emerged from behind a large bronze statue that was standing outside. As he walked forward and greeted the men warmly, both men glanced at the statue, then at Price, and smiled – realising he’d been discreetly watching them arrive – then they all walked inside and sat down.
It was a classic London pub – a large room, with a bar on one side, simple dark wooden furniture arranged throughout, and a glass door leading out to a patio area that overlooked London’s River Thames.
Lunch was a typical English Sunday Roast – with roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, vegetables and a pint of beer for each of them. Price was surprised at how well the other two got on as they spoke. And then, as the old saying goes, “The penny dropped.” Something the DSF said gave the game away – they had served together abroad many years before and had been very close friends ever since. They both realised that Price had only just figured it out and stopped speaking, waiting for him to comment.
So he decided the time was right, “Thank you for meeting me like this gentlemen, I am most grateful.”
His Chief looked at the DSF and said, “Price, you’re most welcome. Robert,” he said, referring to the DSF by his first name, “Has explained what you’re looking for. I completely agree with the analysis and the COS will have the papers on your desk in the morning. Only the three of us, plus the COS will know. You are to discuss this with nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, outside of this small select group.”
Price thanked his Chief for the help and was glad the Chief of Staff would be involved – he knew that there was no way it could have been him who leaked the information – he would trust him with his life, and indeed, had done so on numerous occasions.
With that dealt with, the DSF bought another round of drinks and Price reminded himself that men in the services seem to have an incredible ability to drink huge quantities of beer with no noticeable effect.
By 2pm, the group had finished lunch and they left, each going their own way.
The following morning, Price went to work – arriving at SIS’s famous Vauxhall Cross building at his usual 7:30am.
Anyone who has driven or walked past the iconic building could not have failed to notice that, nobody ever seems to come or go. This is because Price, like most of his colleagues, always entered via an underground walkway joined to another, less conspicuous building a short distance away.
As Price once related to a new recruit, “Walking in the front door is all very nice, but it does kind of advertise you as a member of the Firm – and that really goes against the whole idea of covert intelligence gathering – so we tend to use a more scenic route and avoid the press and the tourists who seem to be permanently stationed outside.”
As he arrived at his office, Price called the Chief of Staff, who was also someone who arrived early, “Good morning.”
“Morning Price,” replied the Chief of Staff, “I have those papers you’re after. Stop by when you’re ready and I’ll get them signed over to you.”
“Thanks, I’ll come over now then,” said Price, who put the phone down and headed over to the Chief of Staff’s office.
The information he was seeking was highly classified as it contained personal information about, amongst others, members of the Firm. So Price knew that it would have been classified as either Secret or maybe even Top Secret, and would therefore, need to be signed for and kept in a secure location.
After the usual formalities of a morning handshake, Price signed for the papers, thanked the Chief of Staff and returned to his office, where he locked his door and moved the slider on the outside to “Do not disturb”.
Price was looking for correlations between Mike, the Philippines, Lucy and the people who were in the room when he’d commented on her eyes.
Sadly though, by midnight, he had not only missed lunch and dinner, he’d also found nothing conclusive – in part because, they had virtually no history of Lucy. “It’s clearly a false name,” he thought to himself – especially if the information Mary had given him in Hong Kong was correct, and Lucy was linked in some way to North Korea. However, he couldn’t use that information for the moment. Anything he searched for on the SIS computers was tracked and audited. So, if he searched for a link between her and North Korea, he’d be asked how he knew, and that could ultimately risk his relationship with Mary – something he wasn’t prepared to do. With that in mind, there was only one solution – he needed someone else to find that link for him. So he picked up the phone, “Hi Pete, this is Price, how’s Manila?”
“Pretty good – how are you? I heard you had a rough ride in the end?” replied Pete.
“Yes, it did get a bit nasty, but worked out OK,” said Price, then, “This girl – Lucy – we have virtually no history of her. I’m wondering if she’s an immigrant perhaps – maybe from a neighbouring country. Is there anything you can do? Any way of getting some local history on her?”
“Let me call in a favour,” said Pete, “I’ll see if the Philippines government has any history on her. If she is an immigrant, they’ll have records – I’ll call you back,” then he dropped the call.
Whilst waiting for Pete, Price continued to go through all the papers in front of him. Then, just as he was thinking he’d never hear, at 3am in the morning his desk phone rang, “Hello?”
“I guessed you’d still be there. She’s an immigrant – you were right, that was a good call. And that is indeed why we haven’t got any history,” said Pete. “I got a tip off from a friend at the Department of Foreign Affairs.”
“Pete, you’re an absolute star,” said Price. “But do we know where she came from?”
“Korea, mate – North Korea!”
“Oh! That changes things a little,” said Price, as he quietly celebrated, because now he could officially search SIS files on North Korea. Then he said, “It potentially explains how she managed to set up the whole operation. I did wondered how she funded it. I’ll go back through the files and see if that implicates anyone. Thanks again.”
“Good luck – let me know if you need anything,” replied Pete, “I’m trying to get the original name, but it seems she’s covered herself quite well.”
“Thanks, good night,” said Price, and they ended the call.
Price went back to his papers and made a few phone calls to follow up on the new information.
Five hours later his phone rang again – he picked it up, “Hello?”
It was the Chief’s PA – she said, “He wants to see you.”
“OK,” said Price. “I’m on my way,” then he picked up some if his notes, left his office, being sure to lock it on the way out and went upstairs to the Chief’s office.
“You look terrible,” said the Chief’s PA, “But go straight in anyway.”
“Thanks,” Price replied – then sarcastically, “After a compliment like that, I feel so much better now.”
The Chief’s PA just smiled and turned back to her work.
As soon as Price walked in, the Chief said, “Well?”
“It’s the MOD guy Sir – their Asia specialist, named Willard A. Mendax”
“Mendax? What kind of name is that?”
“I don’t know Sir – presumably acquired by marriage at some point in his family history as it doesn’t sound exactly British – but he definitely is Sir – born and bred here as were his parents and parents-parents.”
“How confident are you that it’s him?”
“It’s him Sir,” replied Price.
“And you’ve eliminated everyone else?”
“Yes,” said Price.
“Including me?”
“Yes Sir – even you Sir. People either had no motive or no opportunity – in most cases, neither of the above.”
“OK, spell it out and lets see where we go,” said the Chief.
“I was getting nowhere until our man in Manila called me and told me that the girl, Lucy, was originally from North Korea. Up to that point, the only person who could have possibly known her, aside from Mike, was our Asia Liaison Officer, and there’s no way it’s him – he’s as clean as they come.
Then I started focusing on North Korea. It turns out she worked at the University of Music and Arts whilst Mr Mendax was working in the British Embassy there. They’re just around the corner from each other Sir – literally a stones throw away.”
“What was he doing at the embassy?” asked the Chief.
“Just an administrative posting Sir. But I’ve spoken to other people who were there at the time and they say he did have a girlfriend. In fact, the station head remembers it because they had briefly considered seeing if she could be useful in some way,” Price replied.
“Any descriptions or photos of the girl?”
Price picked up a photo and handed it to his Chief, then he put one of the photo’s Mike had taken, on the desk next to it. “That older photo is obviously quite a few years ago, but I checked with our photographic guys and they believe it’s the same girl Sir. You know – same bone structure, gaps between the eyes – all the usual stuff they check for.”
“And everyone else definitely checks out clean?” said the Chief.
“Yes Sir,” said Price, “They’re all clean – at least, they’re not guilty of this – I can’t comment on anything else they may be up to.”