by Rob Stevens
The presence of adults dispelled Archie’s doubts once and for all and he felt a surge of adrenalin. ‘This isn’t a wind-up,’ he whispered. ‘They must be MI6.’
‘Copy that,’ Barney squeaked. ‘Looks like some sort of splinter cell to me.’
When the girl approached the glass desk the woman looked up from her work.
‘Ah, Agent X-ray,’ said the woman. ‘And who do we have here?’
‘This is Archie Hunt,’ said the girl. ‘And his … friend.’
‘The name’s Jones,’ Barney drawled. ‘Barney Jones.’
The woman looked them up and down and cleared her throat like a judge about to pass sentence. ‘Sit down, both of you.’ Her unnatural smile came as an afterthought.
Archie and Barney lowered themselves into the two chairs in front of the desk. The girl stood to their side.
‘My name is Helen Highwater,’ the woman announced sternly. ‘I am the Initiative Commander of an MI6 project to recruit, train and run kids as undercover surveillance agents in matters of national security.’
Archie thought he heard a faint yelp of pleasure escape from Barney’s lips.
‘You have already met our Computer Technician and Data Analyst, Agent X-ray.’ Highwater gestured to the girl; her expression remained unchanged but she lifted her chin almost imperceptibly. ‘Next, allow me to introduce you to our very own Tech Branch Specialist. He had been retired for some considerable time but fortunately for us he’s agreed to pick up his, er, scientist’s tools to join our brand new operation.’ Spinning her chair and gesturing at the man behind her with a flourish, she announced, ‘This is Tech Branch Specialist Holden Grey.’
Everybody waited in silence for the man to react but he didn’t flinch. Instead he remained transfixed by the TV, mumbling something over and over to himself. Each time he gave the words new emphasis and stretched the vowels in different directions as if trying to master the pronunciation of a foreign phrase.
‘The pool is well fierce, isn’t it? Tha pool is well fierce, innit? Da poo-al eez well fee-arce, innit?’
Huffing loudly, Highwater picked up a remote control from her desk and, aiming it at the offending screen, killed the picture. Removing his headphones the man spun round, his pale blue eyes wild with glee.
‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realise we had company,’ he said. His voice was crisp and enthusiastic but modulated by the warble of advancing years. Turning to the boys he added, ‘Yo, dudes,’ and shot them with his index fingers.
‘This is Archie Hunt and Barney Jones,’ Highwater announced.
‘And I’m Holden Grey.’ The man approached the desk with a limp. ‘Welcome to our cot.’
Archie and Barney looked sideways at each other.
Agent X-ray sighed wearily. ‘Er – you mean welcome to your crib,’ she corrected. ‘Besides, I think the whole MTV vibe is a bit over their heads.’ She jabbed a thumb at Archie and Barney. ‘You might have more luck with some CBeebies jargon.’
‘What is up?’ Grey asked, pronouncing each syllable clearly. ‘I mean, wassup, brothers, I mean bros?’
Archie shrugged. ‘Er, not much. Sir.’
Barney shook his head eagerly.
‘OK, introductions over, let’s get down to business,’ Highwater said brusquely. ‘For years we have used a computer program called SPADE – the Secret Potential Agent Data Evaluator – to identify individual children with the necessary attributes to make excellent field agents at a later date, i.e. when they are adults. SPADE quantifies the school record, medical history, genetic pedigree and sporting achievements of every child in the country and assigns them a score from one to one hundred according to their potential suitability for field ops. Your score was very impressive, young man.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Barney grinned.
‘Not you, sport,’ Highwater snorted. ‘Him.’
‘Me?’ Archie asked incredulously.
‘Please can you check mine too?’ Barney beamed.
Peering through the spectacles perched on her nose, Helen Highwater typed Barney’s name into the SPADE database and waited for his score to be displayed. Grimacing, she sucked sharply on her teeth then smiled apologetically. ‘Well, I’m sure you have plenty of potential, Mr Jones,’ she said, ‘but field ops is not where your strengths lie. Perhaps we’ll give you a call if we’re ever looking to start our own circus?’
Through the corner of his eye Archie saw Barney’s whole body sag as if he was physically deflating.
‘Well, Mr Hunt?’ Highwater demanded. ‘Do you have anything to say?’
Archie thought carefully about his options then said, ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘Oh, Mr Hunt,’ Highwater said wryly. ‘I’ve learned the hard way that National Security is no joking matter.’
As she spoke Helen Highwater was thinking back to the recent MI6 policy meeting when the Director General had asked Team Leaders for suggestions on how to improve operational surveillance techniques. As an Assistant Team Leader the question hadn’t even been addressed to her, but for some unfathomable reason she had chosen to fill the awkward silence that followed the DG’s request with a joke.
‘Well, given that ninety per cent of surveillance entails hanging around and scrutinising people, then we ought to get kids to do it,’ she had quipped. ‘I mean, nobody gives a second thought to a group of teenagers loitering on the street and eyeing up every passer-by, do they? That’s all kids seem to do these days.’
There had been a couple of stifled titters. Highwater’s direct boss, Hugh Figo, whom she secretly called Huge Ego, had scowled at her disapprovingly. The DG had looked pensive and for a moment Highwater had been concerned that she had insulted the most powerful man in MI6 until he’d boomed his one-word response. ‘Brilliant!’
‘Excuse me?’ Figo had blustered.
‘It’s about time we started to think outside the box, man,’ the DG had enthused. ‘Who’s going to suspect a kid of being an MI6 agent? Nobody.’ The DG had a habit of answering his own questions. ‘Kids can nose around and explore wherever they like. And what if they do get caught? It’ll just be put down to youthful exuberance. It’s a superb idea!’
The DG had got so carried away that he had appointed Highwater Initiative Commander and promised her promotion to Head of Surveillance, two grades senior to Figo, if her idea proved a success. That was the point at which she should have politely declined the DG’s invitation, but she had been enjoying the look of utter horror on her boss’s face so much that she’d accepted the role just to spite him.
‘What about my dad?’ Archie asked, bringing Highwater back to the present. ‘Your message said you’ve got information about him.’
‘Come this way,’ said Highwater.
Followed by Holden Grey, Helen Highwater led the boys to the bank of computer terminals where Agent X-ray had taken a seat at a smooth white desk with a white keyboard and mouse on it.
Highwater turned to face Archie and Barney, gave them a cursory smile that was so brief she might have just been stretching her cheek muscles, and began. ‘With the dawn of the Internet almost anyone in the world can publish whatever they wish.’
‘That’s right.’ Holden Grey gestured to screens with his almost telescopic arms, and said, ‘Any of these social networking sites – you know, Twitbook or Facetweet or whatever – gives a platform for anyone to communicate with millions of people all over the world. MI6 Cipher Branch annually spends tens of thousands of man hours every year filtering the world wildlife web for any potentially sinister communications. Our sophisticated mainframe computers scan thousands of web pages every minute, looking for any one of hundreds of tagged words as well as highlighting unusual patterns or repetitions of words or letters.’
Highwater allowed the boys a moment to watch the filtration process on the screens before continuing. ‘If the computer senses some kind of suspicious activity it will be flagged and a Cipher Branch agent – a codebreaker – will be assigned
the task of analysing the site for any hidden messages.’
While Archie listened in awed silence, Barney was nodding knowingly, as if to confirm the accuracy of Highwater’s information.
She continued, ‘Following certain leads, we have reason to believe that a particular individual is plotting to undermine the very fabric of our society.’
‘For actual,’ Grey chimed in. ‘His activities threaten to … threaten … the national security of our nation.’
‘A little over a week ago the Cipher Branch computer program flagged the following message on someone’s Facebook page.’ Highwater nodded to Agent X-ray who tapped a few keys, displaying the same short paragraph on every monitor.
4pm – I respect any Scandinavian who chooses to champion a cause that will sadly but inevitably go nowhere. I am missing many old friends from chapters of my own past. But nobody’s home will be safe, at my triumphant eternal midnight.
‘I’m sure you will agree,’ Highwater asserted, ‘this is somewhat bizarre but not necessarily sinister?’
Archie shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘However, if we isolate every fourth word, we get a more chilling message altogether …’
Agent X-ray tapped some more keys and a single line of text appeared on the screens.
Scandinavian champion will go missing from own home at midnight.
Highwater fixed the boys with a sombre stare. ‘I can confirm that at approximately midnight on the night this message was posted, a young Norwegian biathlon champion disappeared from his family residence and has not been heard from since.’
Archie nodded thoughtfully. ‘How come the MI6 computer was suspicious about this guy’s profile in the first place?’
‘Well, it’s a highly sophisticated program that filters all sorts of parameters using algorithms and language pattern templates.’ Highwater cleared her throat. ‘Plus, the individual in question calls himself Doctor Doom.’
‘And it picked up on something as subtle as that?’ Archie mumbled. ‘Computers are so clever these days. Where would national security be without them?’
‘Many of Doctor Doom’s posts talk about revenge and retribution,’ Highwater continued, ignoring Archie. ‘Cipher Branch reported their findings to my boss Huge – I mean Hugh – Figo and he assigned the investigation to our division.’
‘I suppose your colleagues in the Norwegian Secret Service are working up some intel?’ said Barney in a slightly strange American accent.
‘Negative.’ Highwater removed her glasses. ‘As far as they’re concerned this is a simple case of a runaway. But the young man in question – Mr Henry Ulrik – has joint Norwegian and British citizenship so it’s up to us to find him.’
Holden Grey nodded sagely. ‘AKA this baby’s in our court now.’
‘Excuse me,’ Archie interjected, raising his hand. ‘I’m really sorry Mr Ulrik is missing and I don’t want to be all me, me, me or anything – but what does all this have to do with my dad?’
Helen Highwater slid her glasses back on and smiled briefly. ‘I’m glad you asked me that,’ she said. ‘Take a look at this.’
X-ray’s fingers danced over the keyboard and a new paragraph appeared on the monitors.
‘This update was posted on Doctor Doom’s page two days ago,’ said Highwater.
‘The day of the car crash,’ Archie whispered to himself as his eyes eagerly scanned the post.
3pm – Very few police have the will power to take the necessary care. Too many of them will hunt selfishly on this and every afternoon.
Falteringly Archie announced the hidden message, reading every fourth word, ‘Have – to – care – them – on – afternoon?’ He frowned and cocked his head. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Guess again, Einstein,’ said X-ray without looking up from her keyboard.
‘Barney?’ Highwater said invitingly. ‘Any ideas?’
Barney pinched his chin thoughtfully and said, ‘From my experience I’d guess our mark is using a classic helical substitution cipher, or perhaps a cross-numerical progression code?’
Highwater looked at him blankly. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Does anyone have any ideas that actually make sense? Archie?’
Archie said nothing for a moment because his mind was racing. This new message had been posted at 3 p.m., which meant …
His blood chilled as the hidden meaning became clear. In a voice that was barely audible he read the message.
‘Police will take care of Hunt this afternoon.’
‘Bravo,’ said Grey, adding quickly, ‘I mean kuoros.’
‘No,’ said Agent X-ray through gritted teeth, ‘you actually mean kudos.’
‘So somebody was planning to kill my father?’ Archie felt anger bubbling in his veins. ‘How soon did you decode this message?’
‘Only about half an hour before the accident,’ said Highwater. ‘We didn’t relocate to this safe house until yesterday so we were still in London at the time. We sent a uniformed unit to your home but they were too late to intercept your father.’
‘Typical of the plod,’ said Barney wearily. ‘If you want a job done right you’ve got to go with Tactical Armed Response.’
‘We have reason to believe things are not as straightforward as they at first appear,’ said Highwater. ‘Agent X-ray will explain.’
The girl spun her chair round to face the boys. As she addressed them she kept her head tilted slightly to one side so that her fringe hung across half of her face. ‘Firstly we believe the phrase “take care of hunt” in the original message is ambiguous,’ she mumbled, like a teenager who’s been forced to propose a toast at a family function. ‘It could mean, you know, to kill, or bump off, or ice or whatever. But it might just mean “taking care of business”.’
‘In what way?’ asked Archie.
‘In this case we think it meant they wanted to pick up your father.’
‘You mean kidnap?’
X-ray nodded. ‘Sort of. We don’t think the chase and the accident were in the kidnappers’ plan. Things just went a bit Pete Tong when your dad saw through their police disguise and kept going. We accessed some satellite images of the crash site and they clearly show that in the seconds following your old man’s car making like a submarine, someone else jumped into the sea from the cliff. We reckon the kidnappers were trying to rescue him.’
‘And did they?’ Archie demanded urgently.
‘We don’t know for sure.’ Agent X-ray pursed her lips. ‘The satellite was being repositioned to spy on some foreign students suspected of plotting to bump off the Queen. It was only luck that it caught any of the action at all.’
‘He must have saved him though,’ Archie said brightly. ‘You see, my dad was wearing this heart monitor to help RAF Cranfield with a study they’re doing—’
‘Yeah, we know all about the scientific study,’ Agent X-ray interrupted, displaying the university website on one of the wall-mounted monitors. ‘We bugged your hospital room so we heard what you told DC Flowers. We accessed your father’s vital statistics to check for ourselves and we agree with you.’
‘You think he’s alive?’ Archie beamed.
‘We’re pretty sure he is,’ said Agent X-ray with just a flicker of a smile. ‘Or at least he was at just gone midnight the night before last.’
‘That’s brilliant!’ Archie turned and high-fived Barney. Then he noticed that Highwater and Agent X-ray weren’t smiling.
‘That’s the good news,’ said Highwater grimly. ‘Unfortunately there’s some bad news too.’
‘The bad news, Mr Hunt, is that while your father is alive,’ Grey chipped in, ‘he’s still in very hot water without a paddle.’
Archie grimaced as he tried to decipher the elderly man’s metaphor.
‘In simple terms,’ Highwater added, glaring at her colleague, ‘we are working on the theory that the man who kidnapped your father is planning to carry out some sort of experiments on his captives in order to further his despicable p
lan to take over the world. In short, we are dealing with an Evil Mastermind Uprising.’
Barney nodded, the corners of his mouth turned down as if this was exactly the scenario he had expected.
Archie began to feel weirdly woozy, as if he was immersed in glycerine. It was as though reality had somehow become mixed up with some strange spy fantasy. ‘Evil Mastermind Uprising. Is that, like, an official term?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Highwater stated coldly.‘We use it only in the very gravest circumstances when an individual of exceptional intelligence demonstrates he has both the intention and the wherewithal to instigate a fiendish plot designed to destabilise the balance of world power.’
‘In short, he’s a well nasty gangster, isn’t it?’ added Grey.
‘And what exactly is he going to do with my father?’ Archie asked faintly.
Highwater nodded knowingly. ‘I’m afraid, young man, that our theory as to Doctor Doom’s objectives is highly classified information. I can’t tell you any more unless you agree to sign the Official Secrets Act and accept the terms of the MI6 Undercover Agents Disclaimer. And this is the point at which I must ask Mr Jones to leave.’
Archie looked at Barney, who gave him a tightlipped smile and a nod of encouragement.
‘OK, I’ll sign,’ Archie said.
‘Excellent.’ Highwater produced a welcoming smile.
‘But only if Barney’s on the team too.’
Highwater’s face froze. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Hunt, this isn’t some after-school club. You don’t get to join because your friend’s a member.’
‘But Barney knows everything there is to know about spy stuff,’ Archie insisted.
‘I have seen every single James Bond film at least five times,’ Barney offered timidly, ‘even Die Another Day. I’ve read all the Young Bond books over and over – and I got through the whole Alex Rider series in one week. I never miss an episode of Spooks or Alias and I even watched The Bourne Identity when my parents thought I was doing my homework. I can recite all the dialogue from Mission Imposs—’