I think the sum total of all that we know around this table is not even worth forty million dollars. If it was a crime or terrorism they would show us the evidence and we would gladly cough him up. I know this is not real money but surplus kit they already have and can afford to hand over. Even so.
Whatever the issue is with Shawlens, it must be incredible, colossal and maybe world-shaking. BUT they don't want us to know anything about it. He's not a physicist so it can't be nuclear or space. Maybe he's found a way to turn sand into water. I don't know but I sure as hell want to know. What on Earth is worth this wrath of God amount of money?" she said and most of the people around the table agreed, nodded and added supporting comments.
"Any other comments?" the PM asked.
"I think it's curious that the Department of Defence is paying. Okay they're not parting with cash but the loss of these subs and equipment will still be painful," said the Defence Secretary.
"They know we need a deterrent and they can write these off without too much reduction in their nuclear capacity. It's a loss of income to the US Treasury not to the DoD," said the CDS.
"The time limit troubles me. It usually means something is going to happen soon. Should we be preparing for some impending doom, an end of the world thing?" The Home Office Secretary said.
"I was assured that there is no imminent danger or threat to the UK. The planet is not going to die next week," said the PM.
"One way or another. The yanks will have their way. I think we have to accept the inevitable. We might as well get some benefit for the country and solving the Argy problem will mean a great deal to the public. I don't mind handling that issue if you want," said the Deputy PM.
The PM moved his head slowly around the room looking carefully at each face to assess the degree of support or opposition to the proposal.
"Are we all agreed then?" the PM asked.
No dissent was offered. The room sensed that the PM had made his decision. Not since he was twelve years old had anyone been able to tell the PM what to do. He had made it clear to each of them when he became PM that he was incontestably the boss. Even his chosen posse of political advisors were purposely all too young and too timid to tell him what to do. He had already made his mind up.
"If anyone wishes to disagree, please speak now."
The room remained silent.
"So be it. Draft contracts are already on their way from the White House. They need to be thoroughly scrutinised in a very short time so all of us must free-up space to collectively deal with this urgent task."
"My secretary will coordinate a series of meetings to distribute the work, collate your feedback and prepare a follow-up meeting," said the CDS.
The CDS and the Prime Minister stood up first then the others around the table started to gather their things. Before any discussions started the Prime Minister spoke to everyone in the room.
"Let me be absolutely crystal clear on this matter. What we do here today is covered by the collective COBRA responsibility agreement and the Official Secrets Act.
I sincerely hope all of you understand the scale of the shit-storm that will engulf each and every one of us if this decision goes public. Because it will block out the sun for the rest of your life. Milton you have forty-eight hours to find out what the bloody hell I'm selling here for forty billion dollars."
51
Reagal Close, Cosham
Three days after his return from Prague Gavin felt sure he could make full use of his leg again. He did thirty minutes running on the spot and felt nothing unusual in the leg that had been injected with 80PGen. He was sure he'd given his immune system plenty of time to clear the foreign material from his body.
It was almost nine p.m. It was dark, cold and wet outside so the central heating boiler was moaning loudly as it battled to heat up the flat. Zoe Tampin sat upright on the living room settee. Her laptop perched on a cushion resting on her knees. She was working on the SLIPFIRE operation final report. Her SEM mobile phone signalled 'incoming secure call'.
"Voice ID please," a female voice asked.
"Zoe A. Tampin, Section B, number, twenty-ten-seventy-nine, Cosham, Hampshire, twenty-fifty nine," Zoe replied looking at her wristwatch for the time.
"ID confirmed. Please hold for Sir Milton Johhns."
Zoe put her laptop on a coffee table, sat up straight and her mind sharpened to a fine point. She had met the Head of MI5 only a few times to say hello. She had never had a conversation with him and expected that he didn't even know her.
A personal call from the head boss was not a regular experience. SLIPFIRE was done but it was a bit too early for a congratulations call. If there was an urgent update then Cairn would call. So what was this call about? Her mind raced ahead of itself.
Maybe Rolley Morgan was related to the Sir Milton Johhns and he wanted to know more about Rolley's death. A briefing snapped into place ready to be told if that was what this was about. It's a bit late in the evening for that she thought.
Maybe the government agency involved with the Bulgarians has asked the Head of MI5 to intervene and he wants the files. A government to government deal. Maybe they know she is waiting for them.
Maybe Cairn is dead but the Lambeth Group VC would take over. There would be a RED FLASH. Oh hurry up and get on, her mind urged. Finally Sir Milton Johhns spoke.
"Zoe?"
"Yes sir."
"Can you speak freely?"
"Yes sir."
"Do you have control of Dr Shawlens?"
"Yes sir. I have him here. He's having a shower."
"Oh I didn't realise .... That you and he were …. um," he muttered.
"It's nothing like that sir. He's still under my protection for the moment."
"Why is that?"
"The SLIPFIRE op is done but there are some loose ends to sort out. We're waiting for them to turn up here."
"What sort of backup do you have?"
"I have Special Forces teams on rotating eight hour shifts. One team is parked outside in a removals van. Police armed response units are on fifteen minutes standby if I need them."
"Zoe. I have just discovered that Gavin Shawlens is much more than a simple academic. He's a vital key that our American cousins are desperate to possess. He's in grave danger."
"Roger that sir. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to take Shawlens and I want you both to go dark. Do this tonight, as soon as you are ready."
"Can I have an MI5 safe house?"
"No. Most definitely not. Do you have your own doghouse?"
"Yes."
"Take him there but only if you're sure no-one here or at Six knows its location. Or you might want to keep that place in reserve. It's your call Zoe."
"Understood sir."
"I am sending you the precise location of a car drop two miles east of your current position. I have placed a black cabin luggage case in the boot containing the usual stuff plus extra cash and equipment. The car keys are under the front wing on the driver's side. I alone will be your contact. There is a ghost phone in the pack for direct contact. Don't use it for any other calls. Disable both of your Lambeth Group phones."
"Yes sir but I have a short-range subdermal tracker in my arm."
"I will scramble your frequency long enough for you to get out of range. This will bring your Special Forces crashing into your position. Be ready to leave. There is a magnetised arm band in the case that will mask your arm tracker."
"Thanks sir I wouldn't want to have Shawlens cut it out."
"Zoe, when the shit hits the fan, all the sisters and the cousins will be hunting for Shawlens. You must be deep to avoid confrontation. You must not trust anyone in the services, not even your friends."
"What force am I authorised to use if discovered?"
"Zoe you must not be discovered. When this kicks off they will label you rogue, to be killed on sight. Do what you must to keep Shawlens hidden. There are written orders from me in the luggage case so your ba
ckside is covered when this is over."
"Absolute worst case. If I'm overrun, do you want me to prevent Shawlens from falling into enemy hands?"
"No. Repeat no," he said loudly and it made her eyes blink.
"Understood sir. Is it just him or is their baggage to go?"
"Just him."
"Anything else I need to know, sir?"
"Zoe I am going to break the usual need-to-know protocol and tell you why I am asking you to do this difficult job."
"Thanks sir. Greatly appreciate your trust in me."
"Today the PM informed a meeting of COBRA that Gavin Shawlens has something, probably knowledge, that's worth tens of billions of dollars to the USA. The Americans want to buy him from us as if he was a bloody pizza pie. Our grubby political masters have agreed to sell him to the CIA. I need more time to find out why they want him."
"Waow! So Shawlens was the target."
Now it all falls into place she thought. It was the CIA who sent Vindanson to Prague. It was the CIA who bugged our flat. It was the CIA who killed Scott and Ivan. The CIA tried to kill Gavin Shawlens.
"If we can get a hold of what he knows then he might cease to be a target."
"Does he need to know why he's going off the grid?"
"No, don't spook him. I suspect he's not even conscious of what he knows. So keep a close eye on him. The cousins are seemingly on a clock so there might be something about to pop."
"O .., K ..," she said mysteriously.
"What is it Zoe?"
"He's been having nightmares."
"What does he recall?"
"Fragments, nothing I can understand. I'm sure it's not a full picture yet. To be honest I haven't paid much attention."
"Zoe this could be very important. Tease out his nightmare. It might be a key."
"Roger that sir," she said then thought how the hell do I do that.
"Any clue what it is I'm looking for? Is it a biochemical thing?"
"Zoe I've been through his life with a nit comb. I can't find anything that he's done or worked on that might explain where the cousins are coming from. All they say is Gavin Shawlens has put their national security at risk. For the life of me I can't see how."
"I'll embrace the unexpected."
"Now, exactly how long do you need to get ready?"
"Thirty minutes. Three, two, one, check."
"Check. I'll be in touch, a bit later on, not quite sure ...," he said and she sensed apprehension in his voice.
"Everything will be just fine sir. We'll go dark and await your instructions. I know their search methods back to front. They won't find us I guarantee it."
"Zoe."
"Yes sir."
"There is no one else in the entire country I would rather have looking after Shawlens than you. Keep him safe. Watch your back. God speed. Johhns out."
Notes
The Lambeth Group was created in 1975 when a group of twenty-six University Vice-Chancellors from elite Universities met secretly at the Imperial War Museum, Lambeth Road, London to decide on a strategy to manage research and technology disasters that sometimes happen when researchers push boundaries farther than they should.
A core team of nine leading researchers from across UK Universities were recruited by secondment to covertly investigate and resolve research project backfires that could damage crucial reputations and threaten tens of billions in annual research investment in the University sector if they were exposed. The group is managed jointly by a retired University Vice-Chancellor (known as the VC) and the Director of CPNI. The Lambeth VC provides a communications link between the Home Office and all the University Vice-Chancellors in the UK and Commonwealth.
Lambeth Group academic investigators are supplied with one piece of kit. The Lambeth Group SEM (secure encrypted module) mobile phone looks just like Samsung Galaxy smart phone except it connects directly to a satellite for secure communications rather than a mobile phone network. It has clever apps to provide support and backup for Lambeth Group academics, who are non-combatants, not security service trained and not particularly street-wise.
The Official Secrets Act is used in the United Kingdom to describe legislation that aims to protect state secrets and official information. People working with secret information are required to sign a statement agreeing to abide by the restrictions detailed in the Official Secrets Act.
COBRA (Cabinet Office Briefing Room A).
CDS (Chief of Defence Staff).
CNPI (Centre for Protection of National Infrastructure) a branch of MI5.
MI5 (UK Security Service).
MI6 (UK Secret Intelligence Service).
ACPO (Association of Chief Police Officers).
JIC (Joint Intelligence Committee).
HMG (Her Majesty's Government).
GCHQ (Government Communications Headquarters).
COBRA (Cabinet Office Committee Room A).
CIA (Central Intelligence Agency).
NCS (National Clandestine Service) a section of the CIA.
POINT-K (President only informed if needs to know).
CASTER (Committee for Accountable Science and Technology Ethical Research) is a covert group attached to MI5's CPNI branch that scan UK universities and institutes for fraud, corruption, plagiarism, fabrication or falsification and other unethical behaviour.
RAE (Research Assessment Exercise) is a government method of assessing the quality of research activity in academic departments and awarding grades. The grades are subsequently used to distribute research funds to academic departments for a period of six years. Competition is fierce. Research envy and snobbery is inevitable. The pressure on Departments to obtain a high grade and a high level of funding is intense. The funding stakes are high.
SLIPFIRE designation code for the Lambeth Group investigation at the Department of Sports Studies, University of South England.
DHEA (dehydroepiandrosterone).
ATP (adenosine triphosphate). If there is one thing that unifies all life on this planet it is this molecule. ATP is a molecule composed of adenosine and three phosphates. This molecule supplies energy for living cells to function.
Just like a house with no power feels dead and bereft. A cell with no energy cannot support life. Almost all living organisms on the planet use ATP's energy to power life.
We can't hear, see, think, reproduce or move without power from ATP.
If you enjoyed Everything to Lose you might be interested in Deadly Secrets by Gordon Bickerstaff, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Deadly Secrets by Gordon Bickerstaff
One
When her death throes came they fired crescendos of searing pain into her small body. Every nerve screamed pain and she didn't understand why. Fear and instinct told her death drew near. Her brave little heart craved for the love and safety she knew from her big brother.
Exhausted from searching and too petrified to stand, she lay on her side shaking uncontrollably. Traumatised by relentless pain her brain finally abandoned her young body. Suffering subsided and calm descended with a false sense of well-being.
This pain felt much worse than she'd ever known. Many times her brother beat her for running off but the pain lasted moments. She wanted to get up and run to her big brother, to kill more rats for him. Her brother hated rats and screamed madly at them. She killed lots of rats for her big brother and loved killing them.
A vision appeared in her mind of a hole in the wall where rats sneaked through. Close to the bed they shared. Her big brother lay there alone calling for her to help. Terror filled her child-like mind as her vision showed hoards of rats streaming through the hole attacking her brother. Her brother fought them off but they swarmed over him biting, tearing, squealing and the vision drained her heart. She tried to call out but her muscles refused to move. She stared ahead panting out puffs of moist air into the cold night while more traumatic visions raced through her mind.
The kind woman stepped out of her warm office and ru
bbed her arms against the cold night air. Her once razor sharp senses no longer reacted to noise and didn't hear the woman's footsteps crunch the fine gravel. The woman squatted down beside her and their eyes met. The woman flinched with concern but did nothing for her. They stared at each other and her fragile spirit reached out, help me her dark eyes pleaded.
Concern twisted new lines around the woman's mouth; she breathed sharply and sighed loudly. Slowly she shook her head from side to side and tears filled her eyes as she stood up and turned her back. The woman's office door closed and with a loud blimp a light switch brought cold darkness back to the yard.
Fluid filled her small stomach, her gullet and lungs. Crushing feelings brought panic and helplessness. Painful coughing tried to expel the fluid and each cough became a hurdle that strangled her will to live. She gasped and gurgled, as pockets of gas expelled from her lungs. Fluid spilled from her mouth onto the ground where it formed a pool beside her head. The pain ended for her at least.
Two
East Kilbride, Scotland
Colin Blunt listened to the BBC Scotland breakfast news programme on a portable radio in his bathroom while he showered away cobwebs of his dreams. His obese wife Annabel sprawled out in bed like a sad old walrus, screwed her face trying to focus on a telephone call. Hung over from a drinking binge, flustered, uninterested, eyes clamped shut, she caught a few words. Stubbornly she refused to raise her voice above the noisy power shower and told him what she could remember as he towelled himself dry.
Colin Blunt dressed quickly, finished his coffee and bid his wife a curt goodbye. She responded with her usual 'piss-off' groan and re-buried her head in her duvet to hide from the daylight that had arrived too soon. Drunken barrel of lard flashed loudly in his mind as he slammed his front door shut.
A senior partner at Fairfells Pet Centre Reginald D.C. Blunt had a choice of three first names. He hated his first name and insisted people call him Colin. His wife called him 'Reg-ann-old' and he loathed her for it.
Everything to Lose Page 29