CHAPTER FIFTY
Monday May 12th 2025
“Please, drop all the formal nonsense and call me Tim”, said the man who had been prime minister for ten years up until the previous Thursday.
“Actually you will now be known as Agent 10,” said Bill White.
The former PM smiled.
“Yes,” said White, anticipating the question, “it is partly as a nod to your previous address, but also a matter of practicalities. At our last intake just over a year ago we recruited Agents 96, 97, 98 and 99 and we find that 'Agent One Hundred' or 'One Zero Zero' is too much of a mouthful.”
“Especially if you have a gang of lunatics running at you with machetes,” I chimed in.
“Thank you for the pertinent example, Jennifer,” continued White without breaking his stride, “so we are now reusing numbers as and when they... become available. It was either 10 or 22.”
I'd spent months dealing with the guilt I felt about John's death but hearing his old handle still caused me a pang of grief. I was glad I wouldn't have to call our new recruit 22. Not that I'm superstitious, but getting a former PM killed would be even more of a fuck up.
“Before we give Agent 10 the introductory briefing we need to settle the matter of his security. The announcement was made yesterday that he is retiring entirely from public life to spend time with his family.”
I thought of the sarcastic joke John would have made on hearing that cliché.
“Obviously his family will have the usual Close Protection but during the hours he is on assignment with us he will... erm...”
“Look after myself,” said Tim. “I appreciate this may be a bit weird for the rest of you at first but at least we've already worked together and I just want to be an Agent and get on with the job at hand. Nobody watches my back any more than you would for each other, okay? I'm not a prince poncing about on a frigget.”
We all nodded our assent.
“Obviously, Tim's experience will be invaluable to us in international matters so I anticipate he will spend much of his time at base camp, but also go out in the field as and when. Needless to say the fact that he now works for T14 is subject to not only your usual contract but the Official Secrets Act. In fact, to make things easier, I've decided that only the people in this room will be aware of his presence.”
“Even my wife doesn't know what I'm doing, I've told her I'm a 'security consultant'.”
“To further help keep this between ourselves,” continued White, “we will be opening a new location henceforth known as 'base camp'. No details of this location are ever to be written down or spoken about outside of this group or the location itself. It is an anonymous building to which you will all be taken this afternoon by the most direct route from this office. You must learn this route by heart. Further details of procedure will be explained at the location later. Any questions?”
Other than looking around the room and making a mental note of who was present, nobody needed anything further, so we made preparations to leave in three cars as the boss gave our new recruit the introductory schpeel.
The last car arrived at Agent 10's new premises just as Adam and I had finished looking the place over. It was definitely well chosen, a warehouse with small front office at the end of a largely deserted industrial estate. The only windows were thirty feet up and too small for anyone to get through and the only entrances were one huge rolling garage door and the porch in front of the office. CCTV was already in place and we'd managed to hook ourselves up to most of the cameras on the whole estate to monitor who was coming and going. There were only four other units in operation, all near to the main road. It was a further half mile to our place, along three side streets that nobody would ever venture down unless they knew where they were going.
At the back of our unit was an enormous car park backing onto waste ground that could only be accessed, other than the single approach road, by crossing a wide river tributary that had no bridge. On the other side of the river was a waste disposal site, rarely visited. The car park was large enough to allow a helicopter to land, should the need arise. It was about as isolated and defendable as you could possibly hope to find in the middle of London.
The cover story was that we were a company storing and distributing electrical components that had to be kept at a constant temperature. It was not out of the ordinary for such an establishment to have a twenty four hour security presence, and this one certainly would.
“White has been busy since Thursday,” I remarked, plonking myself down on a huge four seater sofa on which anyone up to six foot six could comfortable sleep. “This is nicer than our house.”
“I told you I'll get around to decorating when I have time,” said Adam, before realising that I was winding him up. “Yes, it's fit for purpose,” he continued, immediately snapping back into full-on professional mode as only he could. “Which door are we going to use for access?”
“Why not both?”
“I don't like that flimsy porch, it's not secure enough. I think we should seal it totally.”
I pondered this for a moment.
“I suppose in the unlikely event of any genuine accidental visitors, it wouldn't seem odd if they knocked on the porch and someone answered by opening the garage door. I assume we're bricking up the fire escape, surely that's the weakest point?”
“All the rooms back here are being fitted with fire doors,” said White as he entered the main office, “and panic buttons will be throughout the unit by tonight. The nearest fire station is only ten minutes away. And there are sprinklers throughout, so yes we're going to brick up the fire escape. I've been speaking to our chopper pilot and he thinks he could get through the garage door.”
“Thinks ?” I laughed. “Has he measured up?”
“Apparently if he tilts thirty degrees to the left he can just get the rotors through.”
“Surely he'd just crash straight into the opposite wall,” said Adam in disbelief.
“He's been through it with a computer model and he's confident he can pull it off by cutting the engine at the right moment and gliding down and through the door. We'll put crash mats and shock absorbers against the wall.”
“Is this a scenario you have any reason to anticipate,” I asked, eyeing the boss with curiosity. I couldn't imagine what kind of bizarre Hollywood blockbuster style chain of events would lead us to want to fly a chopper into a warehouse.
White looked over his shoulder to check nobody else was in earshot.
“Despite what he said about just being another agent, to me he obviously isn't. If we're bringing him here by chopper and someone has got wind of who he is I need to get him inside the building and shut that fucking door pronto.”
“Isn't this a lot of time and expense to go to for one agent?” I asked.
“It isn't just for his benefit, as you'll see during the full briefing. Which by the way starts in three minutes, so, Jen, I suggest you get out of bed and grab yourself a coffee.”
I jumped up and sprang to mock attention.
“Right away, headmaster.”
White kept his composure but I knew he would be cracking a smile as soon as he was out of my sight. It was one of the many great things about him that he tolerated, even encouraged, such informality within the organisation. It was vital that we could wind down for a few minutes wherever possible rather than being on high alert every second of the day and burning out.
I poured myself a coffee and made my way to the main part of the warehouse.
“Okay, pay attention,” said White when everyone was gathered, “we have a lot to get through and we have some further deliveries due in half an hour. This is now base camp, known only to the twelve of us. Between 8am Tuesday and 8pm Thursday this will be the residence and workplace of Agent 10. During those hours he will be working with us on a consultancy basis though he is also as of now an agent with security status green and privy to anything and everything that everyone else here is. He will assist us with international ma
tters and any of our operations with a political element. He will use his experience to monitor international and domestic situations and assist myself and the deputy director in the formulation of strategy etc. He will also be on call outside of those hours if I feel that his military or political experience can be of use in the field.
“Base camp is also an emergency gathering place for everyone in this room. If HQ or your own residence is in any way compromised you immediately make your way to this location. It can also be used as a safe house if needed. During Agent 10's hours of residency three of you will be here on a shift rota system to assist in strategy formulation, information gathering and to maintain the premises. Outside of the direst emergency, there will be no direct communication between base camp and HQ – no paperwork will be generated here and nothing is to leave this location. Officially, base camp does not exist, not even for the other agents. Is that crystal clear?”
We all nodded dutifully.
“37, you will present me with a verbal report each Friday morning detailing all the work, conclusions and suggestions generated during the week.”
Adam nodded.
“I will not be visiting this location again unless seven kinds of shit hit the fan at once.”
He then went through the details of everything that was about to be delivered and where it was to be installed. I anticipated the latest in a seemingly never ending series of caffeine-fuelled long nights.
By four thirty that afternoon it was just myself, Tim (as I still couldn't get used to calling him), Adam and Hannah. Since we'd officially become an item, Adam and I weren't normally assigned to the same team but fortifying buildings was one of my specialities, and Adams obsessive attention to detail was vital in ensuring we hadn't missed anything in setting up base camp. Hannah was monitoring the CCTV and double checking Adam's list. Earlier she had supervised the installation of the small armoury and was currently the only one of us armed with anything other than our handguns, though as usual I was sure Adam had secreted many weapons about his person. Even though we'd been living together for several months now, he still never kitted himself out in front of me. I figured it was one of his rituals that made him feel better so I left him to it.
We'd quickly decided that it wasn't worth fortifying the outer door of the porch and this would in any case draw unwarranted attention to the building should anyone get lost on the estate and innocently find our new foxhole. It was covered by cameras and the alarm system anyway.
The inner door had a window which had already been covered with a Venetian blind and plastered over before our arrival. Now Tim and I set about drilling huge masonry nails into the walls and securing a plate of bomb-proof steel to the plaster. If we ever needed the door as an emergency exit it was now literally tough shit.
I was glad to do this job with Tim to try to get to know him better and to make him feel part of the team. Besides, Adam was useless at D.I.Y., one of his few faults. As soon as it was dark I would go up onto the roof and roll out our special slippery matting that made it impossible for anyone to comfortably move around up there, along with a few booby traps for good measure. Then we would board up the tiny windows with the same bomb-proof steel and we were ready to go. Or rather stay. With our own electricity generator and supply room the building could easily accommodate four people for months if necessary.
By the time I came down from the roof at seven forty we were all done. I was too impatient to wait for dark so I just told Hannah to alert me if anyone appeared within five hundred yards. Nobody did and the job was soon done.
“Come and have some food, Hannah, there's no need to monitor the cameras now; there's only one way in and out of this place and we're eating within sight of it.”
“Okay,” she shouted, and emerged from the office a couple of minutes later.
“Bloody hell,” she said on seeing the spread Adam had prepared, “I didn't know we were expecting royalty.”
“I hope this isn't for my benefit,” said Tim.
“No it's... I'll explain later.”
Obviously nobody had thought to tell him about Adam's OCD stuff. I moved the subject on.
“So, Tim, now that we've installed you here what do you think of your new bat cave?”
“I'm very impressed at the speed with which you got this all together.”
“I'm sure White hasn't just decided all this in the last four days.”
“No,” Tim conceded, “I suspected that I would be out of a job months ago and we discussed the possibility of me being of some use to T14, but he really has got this place together since Friday morning.”
“That'll be the virtually unlimited budget you give us, gave us,” I said, tucking into some sweet and sour chicken. “I assume your successor understands the importance of that continuing?”
“It was one of the few things I said to him,” he replied, not without feeling.
“Good, we can't have us eating beans on toast while saving the free world, can we?”
We chatted about trivialities for the rest of the meal (I'd explained to Tim that relaxation where possible was a part of our working method). Afterwards, with glasses that sadly contained orange juice rather than Chardonnay, we turned back to work matters.
“I had a chat with the US President on Friday before I left.”
“Does this one have a working brain?” I asked.
Tim smiled. “He'll do. He seems to have done a good job in dealing with the dismantling of the CIA. All their security services are now on such a tight leash I don't think we have anything to worry about from them for the foreseeable future.”
“What about the general world situation?” asked Adam. “How are things in Iran these days?”
“After everything that happened last year it seems that everyone is playing it safe.”
“Not everyone,” I said, “we still have plenty of work.”
“Yes, I meant the politicians and security services. After coming to the brink of a nuclear war and the CIA almost killing the president, most countries are entirely occupied with their own internal problems and paranoias. Foreign affairs barely exists as a subject in many parts of the world at the moment. I'm hoping it'll be a good few years before large scale international terrorism is something we have to deal with.”
“But the fanatics are still out there,” I said.
“Of course, there's no logic to the actions of people who've been so thoroughly brainwashed. In the absence of a coherent command structure somebody is bound to do something crazy eventually. Whenever there's peace there are always people who see it as a betrayal of some ideal or other and want to stir things up.”
“Northern Ireland,” said Hannah.
“Exactly. So I'm hoping that amongst this relative quiet, any new 'noise', so to speak, will be easier to detect.”
We finished our meal in silence, all pondering the conversation and wondering what the future held for the world.
The Memory Man: T14 Book 1 Page 50