Operation Sabre

by Glenn Carter

  They nodded and Rachel said, ‘We’ll go and explore.’ Rob and Paul went through the door. It closed behind them and Paul found himself in a dimly lit area with a very large black wall just a couple of metres in front of him. He looked up enquiringly at Rob.

  ‘Welcome to the moonstone,’ said Rob. ‘Not sure why it’s called that but some of the agents said it has something to do with A’s favourite book. Okay so this is the cool bit… watch this.’

  Rob walked towards the wall, lightly touched it and stepped back. Paul gasped as blue luminous writing gradually appeared all over the wall. Paul could see numbers and letters. ‘Maths equations?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes exactly,’ Rob said brightly. ‘A is a fan of maths. If you want to get in, you have to write the correct maths equation on the wall.’ Rob turned around, picked up a pen that was stuck to the door behind him and handed it to Paul. Rob turned around to leave.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Paul.

  ‘This is your mission, Paul. Mr A has confidence that you can do it.’

  Paul turned back to face the wall as Rob exited and the door closed quietly. Paul scanned the entire wall trying to make sense of all the complicated equations in front of him. The blue writing glowed in the low light. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he whispered. Five minutes passed. Paul started to feel overwhelmed and thought, ‘This is impossible, I’m rubbish at maths. I don’t even know any equations!’. He slumped against the wall and slowly sat down.

  ‘Think Paul, think. What equations do I know?’ Then he remembered learning something about Einstein in school. ‘Einstein came up with some equations. What was it?’ He jumped up and scanned the entire wall to see if it was already there. It wasn’t. He walked forward and wrote ‘E=mc2.’ His writing glowed brighter than the other equations and he heard a click. The wall started moving. A crack appeared in the middle. Paul was blinded by the bright light as he stepped inside.

  Paul looked around. The office was dominated by the large tree trunk that rose up from the floor and up through a glass roof. Beside the tree was an expensive-looking desk made out of a single piece of wood, on which sat a pen and a neat stack of white paper. There was a wooden statue on the desk and a chair on each side. There was no computer. In fact, Paul saw that this office was in stark contrast with the rest of the building which was full of technology. On one wall there were a couple of paintings that Paul recognised as scenery from the north west of Scotland. It looked like places he had visited on holiday. Paul scanned the room for Mr A. He looked up to see that the office was on two levels. The top level was filled with books on every wall. Then he heard a noise. Paul could see a man’s back and watched as he slowly descended slowly the stairs that swept away from where Paul was standing. The man turned around and looked at Paul.

  ‘Hello Paul.’

  Paul stared at him, initially speechless. ‘Uncle Stewart?’ He looked around the room for Mr A. ‘Where’s A?’

  ‘Have a seat Paul.’ Stewart directed Paul to one of the seats. Stewart looked like Paul. He was tall with striking crystal blue eyes and had dark hair that was going grey at the sides. He had a handsome but weary look about him.

  Paul sat down trying to work out what was happening. Stewart was his father’s brother. Paul hadn’t seen him since his sister’s funeral.

  After sitting down opposite him, Stewart smiled, ‘So you managed to crack the code outside. Well done!’

  Paul said nothing. Stewart continued, ‘I’m sorry to surprise you like this. This room is totally secure. No technology. No one can hear what is said here. I’m wondering if you might like some answers?’

  Paul nodded.

  ‘Right.’ Stewart hesitated. He looked at Paul and then around the room at the paintings, searching for the right words. ‘Paul, I’m A. I’m the Director General of MI5 and MI2.’ He stopped, waiting to see if Paul wanted to say anything.

  Paul continued to stare at him. ‘Paul, your Dad is a spook. He’s a spy.’

  Paul instantly stood up and took a step back, knocking over the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry to hit you with all this Paul. I thought you and Rachel would want to know. Your Dad has been missing for a week now. I’m worried about him and we have had absolutely no contact with him. Has he been in touch with you?’

  ‘Eh, well. I saw him on the ship.’

  ‘He was there?’ questioned Stewart.

  ‘No,’ replied Paul and he told his Uncle all about the fight on the ship’s deck and how he had seen his father when he put on the attacker’s glasses.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Stewart with a worried expression, scanning a single page of text that was in front of him. Right well we’ll need to find out the rest of the details later.’

  Paul’s mind started racing. His Dad was a spy. That was why he was never home. And since his sister Kate had died, his Dad had been around even less. Paul thought about the secret message they got on Christmas Day and what Mary had told him about Sabre. He considered telling his Uncle but thought that he’d better keep the information to himself. He said, ‘It’s hard to take it all in. I suppose it explains why he was never home.’

  ‘Yes, I think he spent more time at work since your sister died. It was probably a welcome distraction.’

  Paul’s confusion turned to anger. ‘A welcome distraction? Do you have any idea how horrible it has been at home? Do you have any idea about how broken my Mum is? Me and Rachel have had to look after her. There was no ‘welcome distraction’ for us! We have had to be the adults in all this. She needs to be looked after. By you… by my Dad!

  Emotion rushed over Paul like a ball of fire.

  ‘I know Paul, I’m sorry. It’s just that work has been…’

  ‘I don’t care how work has been or how important you are. I don’t care if you and my Dad rule the world! We needed help. Mum needs to be looked after!’ Paul was now shouting, ‘We were abandoned!’ He stood up and grabbed for the statue and flung it at the tree as hard as he could. It split in two. Stewart was now standing watching on in alarm. Paul stood looking at the wall shaking with rage.

  ‘I’m sorry Paul. I don’t know what to say. What can I do?’

  Paul looked at him with fury in his eyes, ‘You can go to hell!’. At that, Paul grabbed for the sheet of paper on the desk, stormed out of the office, out of the building and kept running.

  18

  Run

  Paul had been running in the rain for an hour, fuelled by rage and confusion. He eventually slowed to a walk and pulled at his clothes as he felt the rain seep through to his skin. As the rain turned to drizzle, Paul pulled out the sheet of paper that he had grabbed from his Uncle’s desk. He scanned it carefully.

  ‘Classified. High value targets that may be connected to the disappearance of MI5 officer 5.’

  ‘MI5 officer 5… that must be Dad,’ thought Paul.

  The document listed several cells, their members and where they met.

  Paul spoke to his watch, ‘Hugo, where am I?’

  ‘Hello Paul, you are in Peckham.’

  ‘How long would it take me to walk to SE22 8AH?’

  ‘About thirty minutes, Paul.’

  Paul broke into a slow jog. He knew it was a long shot and probably dangerous, but he had to do something. The image of his father looking drawn and grey was stuck in his mind. After 20 minutes, Paul slowed to a walk as he approached the dilapidated community building. He whispered to Hugo, ‘Hugo are you able to tell me if there is anyone in that building?’

  ‘Yes Paul, scanning… please wait.’ A few seconds passed and then Hugo said, ‘Paul there are three people inside the building and two outside at the far end.’

  Paul evaluated his options and then ran towards the ill-lit side of the building. He tugged on the drainpipe and started scaling the pipe up to the roof. Paul eased himself across the sloped roof as quietly as possible and slowly crawled towards the edge. He stopped a metre short and lay down, creeping as close to the side as he dared. Plumes of cigarette s
moke floated past his head and Paul craned to hear what the people below were saying. Initially all he could hear was the noise of his own heart. He slowed his breathing, telling himself to relax. As his heart rate dropped, he was able to tune in to the conversation.

  ‘How’s the missus?’

  ‘Eh, I think she hates me!’

  ‘Ha ha, why?’

  ‘Cause I’m never home, I think. Joe’s been making me spend all my time here, preparing for D-day.’

  ‘I know how you feel. I have to head back up to Jock land again soon. I hate that place!’

  ‘Why you going up there?’

  ‘The Northern cell haven’t been able to make T2 talk. They’ve tried everything, even tried to get his kids. So anyway, I’m going up to lend a hand.’

  The smoke continued to drift past Paul. He shifted his position and rubbed his nose as he felt the beginnings of a sneeze. ‘Oh, not now,’ thought Paul as he moved away from the edge. It was definitely happening. Paul held his breath as the sneeze erupted in his mouth. With the sudden jolt Paul lost his grip on the roof and he started to slide to the left of the building. He was picking up pace. Someone shouted. The men had heard him. ‘Got to get out of here!’ thought Paul as he prepared himself to jump from the edge of the building. Paul reached the edge and jumped out as far as he could, aiming for the white van beneath him. He landed heavily on the roof. The sound echoed loudly in the car park. He slid off the van and looked behind him. Five men now. Chasing him.

  ‘I can’t let them catch me!’ thought Paul. Paul’s feet pounded the path, faster than he had ever run before. After a few minutes he saw a sign for a park and ran towards it. ‘Get cover,’ he thought.

  Paul spotted a band stand and ran towards it. He threw himself down on the other side of the band stand, panting heavily. After a minute, he dared to look over the small barrier. No one was there. He sat down heavily, holding his chest. ‘Those men know where my Dad is,’ he said quietly between breaths. ‘And he’s in Scotland… Was that what Dad meant by, you’ll find me in North?’

  Two minutes passed and Paul decided to move. Before he could look again, he heard footsteps. They were getting closer, he had to look. Paul peeked over the barrier and to his horror he saw the five men walking purposely towards him. He turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. Looking behind him, he saw them all running after him. Panic set in. Paul looked frantically around him for an escape. A large cluster of trees. He ran towards them. He jumped over a small bush and smashed his way through the undergrowth. He felt the bramble thorns cut his skin. Zigzagging through the trees, he stumbled and fell but was quickly on his feet again. He could hear the men noisily pursuing him. ‘Run, Paul run,’ he told himself. As he approached the edge of the small forest there was more space between the trees, so he increased his speed. Finally, he was out in the open again. But then, Bang! One of the men rugby tackled him from the side. Paul lay on the ground gasping for air, unable to move. The five men surrounded him. One of them picked him up and held his arms behind him with a vice-like grip. They escorted him to the other side of the park. As they were walking towards one of the exits, Paul could see a young woman approaching them with a dog.

  The man holding him whispered in his ear, ‘One word and you’re dead! Act natural.’ At that he let go of Paul’s arms and they casually walked past the woman.

  The woman who was wearing a baseball cap and a tracksuit, looked at Paul. With obvious concern in her eyes, she spoke directly to him. ‘Oh, you poor thing. Did you cut yourself?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ one of the men said reassuringly. ‘We’ll patch him up.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the lady, ‘I’m a nurse. I’m sure I have some wipes and plasters in my bag.’ She approached Paul as she rummaged in her bag. ‘Let me have a look at you.’ She took Paul’s face in her hands and tilted his head up so that his eyes met hers.

  Meanwhile the men were looking around them, wondering how to get out of the park without raising suspicion. There were a few more dog walkers around now. They had no choice but to allow the lady to fuss a little before getting Paul out.

  The woman sat Paul down on a nearby bench and inspected the scratches on his face. She leaned closer to Paul and sounding surprisingly familiar, she whispered, ‘Put these in your ears if you want to live. Trust me.’ She slipped a couple of soft ear plugs into his hands. ‘Now’ she whispered urgently. As Paul was discreetly lifting his hands to his ears, she turned and looked at the men. ‘He is in a terrible state. Do you want me to take him back to my house to get patched up?’

  ‘Listen lady, it’s nice of you, but we are going to look after him. We have a van just outside the park. So, if you’ll excuse us.’ The men walked menacingly towards her. She let them through and, briefly pausing to insert her own ear plugs, spoke into her watch, ‘Maximum decibels.’

  Immediately the men put their hands to their ears. Three of them fell over and two started running away from the horrendous noise coming from the woman’s watch. She grabbed Paul by the arm and marched him out of the park. As they left, she handed the lead back to a homeless man, thanking him for the loan of his dog and gave him twenty pounds. They jumped into a nearby car and sped off down the street. After five minutes the woman pulled over and looked at Paul.

  ‘It’s Natalie, Paul,’ she said taking off her cap.

  Paul looked at her, ‘Oh it’s you, I thought I recognised your voice. Thanks for saving me.’

  ‘No problem. Those men are going to experience some serious hearing loss,’ she smiled, tapping her watch. ‘Actually, all their ear drums will have ruptured. I just exposed them to 150 decibels. I’m glad I caught up with you in time, as I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have ended well.’

  Paul was sweating, his breathing was irregular, and he felt dizzy.

  ‘Paul, you look terrible. You are probably going into shock.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Paul said.

  Natalie nodded, ‘Okay we need to get you back. Are you okay to go back to HQ?’ She started driving again.

  ‘Not really,’ said Paul.

  ‘I know Paul, but it isn’t safe out here. As you saw it’s dangerous out on your own. Especially for you.’

  ‘It never used to be dangerous for me.’

  ‘Yes, well A, I mean your uncle told me about your conversation. So, you know who he is… and who your Dad is.’ Natalie looked over at Paul. ‘That must have been a lot to take in.’

  Paul nodded.

  ‘Paul I’m sorry about all this but it’s real and we need to deal with it. As you know, you and Rachel are the package and we need to keep you safe. It would seem that since your father disappeared you are both a target. Some organisation or cell desperately wants to get hold of you. If they wanted you dead, I think you’d be dead already. They want you alive for some reason.’

  Paul sat quietly in the car for the rest of the trip back to HQ, trying to process all that had happened. In the end he gave up thinking about it all and stared out of the window at the London lights.

  William, Rachel and Sharav greeted Paul back at base. Rachel gave him a long hug, but only after sharply telling him how stupid he was and that he could have got himself killed. William asked Paul if he would like to speak to Mr A.

  ‘No,’ said Paul firmly.

  ‘Okay no problem,’ said William. He looked at Sharav and Rachel. ‘Get him something to eat and look after him, will you?’

  19

  The Stage

  The day after Paul’s attempted kidnap he had had a chat with William. William was kind and listened well. The conversation had helped Paul articulate his confusion and anger about the situation he found himself in.

  ‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ said a subdued Paul.

  ‘I know it’s hard, Paul, you might need a couple of days to get over the shock of what has happened. You’ve got a couple of options. I will support you, whatever you decide to do. You can stay here and complete the winter training or go home and s
pend time with your Mum, obviously with the protection of a couple of agents. Listen, you may have worked it out, but your Mum knows you haven’t joined the Territorial Army. She’s always known Michael and Stewart are spies. It might help to have a conversation with her before making a final decision.

  William left Paul, who now stared at his phone for five minutes before finally picking it up. He took a deep breath. Most of the conversations with his Mum recently had been stilted and hadn’t gone well.

  ‘Hi Mum.’

  ‘Hello Paul, how are you?’

  ‘Not bad I suppose. How are you Mum?’

  ‘I’m okay, you know. I’ve been to the library today.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. Any news about Dad?’

  ‘No dear, sorry.’

  ‘I spoke to Uncle Stewart,’ Paul said quietly.

  ‘Right, yes…. How is Stewart?’

  ‘Fine. I know he’s a spy. I know Dad is a spy.’ There was a long pause.

  ‘Hmmm. Yes, that’s right. You know.’

  ‘Yeah I know, and it didn’t really go that well. I got angry.’

  ‘I understand, Paul,’ said his Mum with a tone that suggested she was now thinking and speaking with more clarity.

  Paul felt a lump in his throat as he battled to fight back the tears. ‘Mum…. I’m confused. Everything I used to know seems to have exploded in my face. I want to run away from everything, but I can’t. Things don’t feel safe now. I’m not sure whether to come home or to stay here.’

  ‘My dear son. I love you so much.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve been so distant.’ Paul couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and started crying quietly. His Mum continued, ‘Of course I want you near me. Knowing you are in the house is a great comfort. But you’ll have to trust me on this one. I think you should stay. Paul, I’ve often thought that growing up is a bit like being on stage. When you are young you get to play safely behind the curtain. It’s familiar and all is well. But as you get older the curtain starts to open, very slowly. At first you only get a glimpse of the lights, the colours, the new people. Whilst there is often uncertainty and sadness on the other side of that curtain, there is also so much possibility. There is adventure and hope. With the curtain fully open you can fulfil your destiny.’ Her voice trailed off slightly. ‘My dear Paul. I’m sorry that the curtain on your childhood has opened a little too soon and a little too wide. I think you should stay because this might well be your destiny. You said that it feels unsafe. It is. But your uncle, and perhaps you, can make it safer. That, my lovely boy, is a noble and worthy calling. Why don’t you stay for your winter training and I’ll see you in February? If you come home all you will do is worry about your father.’