Philian Gregory

by Simon J. Stephens

  “But there’s more.”, he continued without allowing Gregory to answer, “In each instance, the suffering of the helpless and vulnerable is matched by a gain for the majority. Not just in the free phones and unlimited data that 22com are offering. It goes beyond that. The majority gain because the drain on public resources is minimised. You know yourself, Reforgin was a national tragedy but once the grieving began to ease, those left behind found themselves financially better off. Every dead prisoner represents an eighty-grand saving per annum. The ‘other’ expensive minorities, the weak and vulnerable, sacrificed to maximise the resources of the majority.”

  “If I was having this conversation with anyone else,”, Philian Gregory smiled as he took his time to reply, “I’d think they were mad, deluded or just plain simple. You’re none of those things. And you’re sober. So, indulge me some more. If 22com is what you say it is, why would Truman sacrifice everything he’s spent a lifetime working for?”

  “Not everything.”, Carrington replied, “He doesn’t sacrifice his life. Look at what we’ve seen so far. Let’s agree that The Circle morphed into something else. And let’s use the convenience of The Haven as that something else. They are all members, as far as we can tell. How many have we seen who are prepared to die for the cause? The Circle had any number who would sacrifice themselves to get to me. The Haven, if that’s the locus of this, has many more. The New Progressives, happy to be sacrificed. George Atkinson, joyfully dies on mainstream media. Walker’s boss, Commander Janice Gould, takes the list we sent into a prison she knew to be a death chamber. The numerous people we’ve interacted with, happy to die rather than give up information. It’s not too great a leap to see that a billionaire would be happy to give all his money away for the same cause. 22com simply doesn’t work economically. Free phones, free data, the only network offering 6G and no monthly access costs? A promise of a system that allows users all the benefits of social media and its personal exposure, but also offers the choice to opt out of advertising and into personal privacy? Come on, where does the ongoing revenue stream come from? The answer is, it doesn’t. For some reason, Truman is prepared to lose it all to get his phones into people’s hands. And they will take the bait, meaning that the phones will be out there and the damage will have been done long before people understand the danger.”

  “So, we can alert people.”

  “Dream on. You want to try and stop the kiddies getting the candy they’ve been craving for the past month? Who’s going to listen? Reforgin was passed for public use and only caused problems when it was combined with the systems used to administer it. If the danger is in these phones, I guarantee that they’ll all pass every test on release. My thinking is that they’ll be delivered dormant, then activated. We’ve got nothing to alert the public with and they’re unlikely to listen anyway. Go back to Jackson and his theory of reverse-altruism. You think you can persuade people to make the sacrifice? Good luck with that!”

  “Then, what do we do?”

  “We do all we can to stop the launch.”, Carrington paused as a spasm of pain racked his body.

  “You need to see a doctor.”

  “In good time, I will. Just don’t worry about me, okay? I know what I’m doing. What matters is that we do all we can to stop the launch of 22com’s phones. It’s as simple as that.”

  “What else have we got left in the bank?”, Gregory asked, pointing to the single sheet of paper that still lay before them.

  “Truman is untouchable, but we know the defence link. General Arthur Masters, currently de-facto head of both the armed forces and the police. Then we have welfare and Alison Connolly, the only pure civil servant we have in the list and, conveniently, in a subsidiary of The Treasury. Which leaves science. And the good news there is that we have already done what we need to with Tim Jackson. He wasn’t as innocent as he made out.”

  “And the plan of action?”

  “There’s the rub.”, Carrington sighed, “I don’t know. Not beyond the very short term.”

  “Which is?”

  “For me to get some sleep. And for you to cruise this baby of ours to where we might be better placed to see a way forward. Give me a shout if you need a hand, but it’s lock free for most of the way. And if you need an incentive other than the obvious one, think of the beer at the other end of the journey.”

  Carrington struggled out of his seat and lay down on the bed that Gregory had vacated. His breathing was more laboured than normal and the weight gain that had once been a source of mirth, was now something that genuinely concerned his friend. Not only was it an unnaturally rapid gain, it also seemed to co-exist with the increasingly grey pallor and dark mottling that was spreading over Carrington’s skin. He knew better than to force him to seek medical help. If they pulled through, he’d leave him with no choice.

  Leaving Carrington to his fitful slumbers, Gregory did all the necessary checks and unhooked the boat from its mooring ropes, jumping onto the stern after pushing it off and letting the throttle out slowly. Whatever the outside world did to you and whatever else was going on in your life, just that simple act of taking the helm of a narrowboat on the pre-season empty canals was enough to force you to wind down several notches and to forget the notion of hurrying. The next week would be what it would be. Their meeting with Walker would bring about what it brought about. For now, all Philian Gregory had to do was navigate the short distance to Fradley Junction, where that meeting would take place and where, it was true, the beer really was worth the waiting for.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  The promised beer didn’t materialise until the following lunchtime, partly due to the rapidly diminishing light of early Spring and partly to Philian Gregory’s slow pace along the canal. He’d worked out early on in the journey that Fradley might just be possible if he broke all the rules and stressed out every time he had to slow past moored boats, but he chose instead to make the most of the journey. Every time they returned to the boat, that weird peace of canal-time washed over them both and, despite the tension of the project ahead, they felt happy to succumb to it. Few boats shared the water with them, although those that they did pass were friendly and a reminder of the good in people that the cut seemed to bring out in even the most normally-negative of souls. And the scenery was as simple and as beautiful as any.

  Carrington had slept until late afternoon, allowing Gregory the solitude that he needed to consider both their options and the need for them to pursue the final action they faced. The canal was half a world away from the big and busy bustle that it cut through, and it was half a world away in its thinking. This was the place where you were alone with your thoughts. Speed wasn’t an option. Diversions didn’t exist. You simply found yourself meandering along the oldest highways in Britain and the slowness helped you forget the doubts and fears that plagued you.

  They’d moored in the middle of nowhere. Carrington had rustled up a surprisingly good stir fry from tinned components boosted with various herbs and oils. They eaten as the sun went down, beers in hand but silent. There was nothing to say at this stage. This was the period of calm before the storm and it may well be their last moment of rest. They savoured every minute of it, went to bed with the onset of darkness and woke again as the sun came back up. They shared the navigating on the last leg and pulled up a fair distance from Fradley Junction in order to maintain their anonymity. Any panic at having missed Walker was soon allayed as they checked the GPS tracker that they’d attached to his hire boat and found that he was heading towards them but that he, like them, had taken longer to get there than planned. Fitting the GPS had been an easy process. A diversion off the motorway, a stroll along the towpath and an easy wall to jump into the boat yard. There were several boats that fitted the size that they’d ordered, so they’d used up the last of their equipment and put trackers on each. They knew the one that was coming towards them was carrying Walker, simply because the others were r
egistering as being static at the boat yard.

  “That’s him there.”, Carrington nodded discretely to Gregory, “Just coming down the last lock. Never seen him before in my life but the green of the boat’s a giveaway.”

  They watched as he passed them, waving from the benches outside the pub where the remains of their lunch waited to be cleared away and several empty pint glasses testified to their making the most of the beer on offer.

  Walker had that look of contented exhaustion that the combination of locks and forced relaxation put on every hire boater. He managed to navigate the turn onto the Coventry Canal without incident, although the swing bridge caught him out and he had to reverse hard to avoid hitting it. From there, it was a brief stop for water before tying up at the visitor moorings. Later that afternoon, Gregory and Carrington walked past the boat, no more than a couple of friends heading back from the pub.

  At eight o’clock, they returned and tapped gently on the door of Walker’s boat. He may have been expecting them but that hadn’t stopped him dropping off after a few whiskies. When he eventually came to the door, his face was a picture of both excitement and apprehension.

  “DI Walker?”, Carrington asked.

  “Yes.”

  “May we come in. I believe you have been expecting us.”

  He invited them in and they squeezed together in the small saloon of the four-berth vessel. The whisky bottle sat on a small side table and, without asking, Walker pulled them all a decent shot.

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not quite sure what to say.”, he said to them as he handed them the drinks, “Although I do owe you a word of thanks for the last tip-off.”

  “They tested the gear yet?”, Carrington asked.

  “They have, why?”

  “Let me guess. Pure heroin contaminated with about ten percent fentanyl or some other toxin. All pre-packed bags carefully measured to contain the same dosage. All destined for numerous supply routes across the country. Am I right?”

  “Weirdly,”, Walker replied slowly, “yes, on all counts. How did you know?”

  “Yeah, I’m intrigued as well.”, Gregory added.

  “Oh, just an educated guess. Another ‘event’ shall we say that was avoided. Kill the prisoners in their cells, infect the elderly with cancer, why not wipe out the heroin addicts as well? You see the sort of thing we’re up against Dan? You don’t mind me being so familiar?”

  “Not at all. Although, it would be nice to return the honour.”

  “Philian Gregory and Nathan Carrington. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “I was given different names.”, Walker eyed them suspiciously.

  “Oh, George Evans and John Martin? Yes, officially, I suppose that’s who we are. But our real names are fine for now. A marker of our trust, shall we say?”

  With the whisky helping, they found soon found out that they were well-matched companions who got along easily. Philian Gregory completed the formalities, as instructed by Carrington, by detailing the crimes that they were wanted for and their openness to accepting the due penalty for those crimes once the bigger issues had been tackled. They were offering themselves to Walker on a plate, but only when they were ready. He responded with a confirmation that he was aware of both men’s status, but that he would respect their wishes, if they could just help him understand things a little better.

  Carrington spent an hour outlining everything they knew. If Walker listened and chose to have no part of it, they’d leave. If he bought in to what they believed, the three of them would have to try and deliver the impossible. He waited for a good few minutes after Carrington finished before telling them of his decision.

  “By rights,”, he spoke slowly and deliberately, maintaining eye contact with two men all the time, “I should have you carted away and banged up. In thirty-odd years as a copper, I’ve only bent the rules once, and that was under extremely unusual circumstances. It explains why Dave and I have a special relationship. But it wasn’t an easy choice for me.”

  “To give you a little background,”, he resumed after draining another glass of malt, “and without wishing to be seen as some sort of tambourine rattling radical, I am one of those born-again Christians that the press loves to have a pop at. I only tell you that to advise you of why I’ve been a straight copper and why my professional integrity is important. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as black a sinner in other respects as any, but at work, I’m as straight as die. What I did for Dave, I did after a lot of prayer and with a spirit at peace. Although, I paid a price with the knife wound. This situation is altogether different. As a police officer, as a human and as a Christian, I find it beyond my scope of understanding. The sort of stuff you’re telling me about just doesn’t happen in Britain in the twenty-first century. As you said yourself, it’s about having to think the unthinkable.”

  “But, the facts remain. Things have happened. The Reforgin thing, I can’t accept. The prison event and the tainted drugs, I can. In both cases, you tipped me off. Either you’re on their side and this is some sort of double-bluff, or you really are onto something. Just now, I don’t know. Did they send my Commander to her death? Did she willingly go of her own accord? Was the list I supplied ignored? Were those drugs really intended to wipe out every heroin addict? Unthinkable, yes, but plausible too. Now, you’re telling me that there will be another attack using mobiles phones and again, you’re asking me to believe the incredulous. I can’t do that, sorry. But, I also can’t disbelieve either. You want me to decide now, I can’t. I can only offer a third way, but it means that the clock will be ticking away in the background and you’ll have to move quickly. Can you accept that?”

  Gregory and Carrington looked at each other, neither wanting to admit that Walker’s proposal was as much as they’d expected.

  “Yes.”, Gregory eventually replied, “Yes, we can accept that. But we need a plan of action either way. Can we chuck that around and hope for the best?”

  Walker was happy with their response and the evening turned into late night as they sat and discussed a strategy. With Carrington’s strange ability to see what wasn’t there, coupled with Gregory and Walker’s more down-to-earth practicality, various scenarios opened up for them. They all hinged on Walker’s final decision.

  “The boat was a good idea.”, he told them as they were summing up, “Not least because it showed me a world I’ve never seen before. It’s a good place to do some thinking. However, not a great practical choice for travel. I’ll extend the hire for a week, leave it here and get back to the smoke tomorrow. I’ll come up with some excuse for returning from vacation early but they won’t bat an eyelid. After that, I’ll sniff around. I can get you the information you need but will only do so if it feels right. If not, we have a deal. I expect to see you in London with your hands up.”

  “We won’t resist.”, Carrington reassured him, “It’ll be a welcome end to all this madness. I’m tired and Philian has lost too much of his life already. We’ll be there.”

  The cryptic reference to Gregory was overlooked and the three parted on good terms. Carrington and Gregory returned to their boat. Walker stayed up late into the night thinking about what he’d heard. If what he’d been told was true, it changed everything. It simply was unimaginable, but he was a meticulous police officer and part of that job involved weighing up the available evidence. Evidence which, in this case, turned everything on its head.

  Not only was the validity of the case up for debate. For Walker, it was the practicality of tackling any wrongdoing that presented the greatest challenge. He had a team that he could rely on amongst his colleagues, but the Met. and policing in general were not hermetically sealed units. Others had to be advised and informed. Diverse others across numerous public bodies, none of whom could be guaranteed to be a safe pair of hands. And yet, the numerous names that Gregory and Carrington had provided to him, were still only a drop in the ocean
compared to the many millions who worked in all public sectors, generally in an honest way and certainly not in the way that those behind these events worked. It reminded him of the old saying about advertising. Fifty percent of it worked, fifty percent didn’t. The secret was in knowing which fifty percent was the effective one. In this case, perhaps one percent were the corrupt ones who were working to a different agenda. That left ninety-nine percent honest. But who were the one percent to avoid?

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Walker was suspended from duty two days after meeting with Carrington and Gregory. The instruction had come directly from General Arthur Masters. His return to work on the Tuesday morning was greeted with some pleasure and a number of jibes about his misplaced commitment to the force. Nevertheless, the workload was growing and they had a number of projects that he was ideally suited to pursue. In between working on those projects, he sought answers. Answers and some sort of reassurance about the way ahead. Answers to questions he was barely able to frame in his mind.

  He thought he’d been discrete. When he was summoned to his superior’s office on the Thursday morning, he knew immediately what it was about.

  “Not my decision.”, his boss had advised him as he went through a number of spurious allegations, his sheepish manner making it very clear that he didn’t believe a word of them, “Orders from above etc. You were on vacation anyway, enjoy the time off. We’ll have this resolved quickly, I’m sure.”

  “And, in the meantime, I’m supposed to just accept that?”, Walker was unusually riled and not afraid to show it.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Don’t worry, I’m batting for you on this. Surely just some sort of misunderstanding. That is…”