Collision

by John Williamson

  She frowned at him.

  “What? …Jake’s Fish and Chips is the best in the country. And I bet you’ve never had Yorkshire mushy peas. You won’t regret it,” he said, leading her away.

  “Okay. I’m willing to try. But I’m paying.”

  And they headed off towards the local fish and chips shop.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It had proven almost impossible to get the meeting with Brannan; yet Daniels was on her way to meet him. Carla had worked miracles to set up the meeting; but it took a call from the American ambassador to finally secure it. Brannan had insisted on only seeing one of them, so Daniels was on her own — and finally free of her walking shadow.

  Getting a flight plan to Cambridge, however, had taken longer than she had anticipated and her helicopter was running late. She was looking anxiously at her watch when the helicopter finally landed outside his mansion. Daniels scrambled out of the helicopter and moved towards the entrance of the building as quickly as she could. She was forty-five minutes late.

  The receptionist behind the desk, a young woman in her early twenties, took her details and said she would contact his PA for her. Fifteen minutes later, Daniels was still waiting. When Daniels looked at her, she simply smiled back.

  “Excuse me,” said Daniels, “is there anything you can do to speed things up? I’m an hour late now.”

  The receptionist picked up the phone and spoke to someone, put the phone back down, and smiled back at her. A few minutes later, another young woman came to greet her. Like the receptionist, she was young and beautiful and was impeccably dressed.

  “Hi, I’m Juliet, Jason’s PA,” she said. “You had a half hour meeting with Jason booked for three. Unfortunately, he’s now left for the day.”

  “I’m sorry, my flight was delayed. It’s really important that I speak to him; is there anything you can do?”

  Juliet took out her mobile and turned her back to her while she made a short call. Then she turned off the mobile and turned back to face her. She smiled at Daniels. “Okay, he will see you. He’s at his country house, ‘The Sanctuary’. I’ll take you there; it’s not far.”

  “Thank you,” said Daniels.

  They walked out of the reception, and a Tesla Roadster was waiting for them.

  They got into the car, and Juliet accelerated rapidly and noiselessly away.

  “What’s this?” said Daniels.

  “It’s an electric sports car. Jason won’t allow his staff to use anything else. He’s big on protecting the environment.”

  “Yes, I heard he was a bit of nut on the green thing.”

  Juliet gave her a disparaging look.

  “Jason likes to keep out of the public eye; but he has given billions anonymously to science and charities supporting green issues and the relief of poverty. He’s a good man, and he lives by simple old fashioned values.”

  “So you’re a big fan?” said Daniels.

  “You could say that,” said Juliet.

  “So you think he’s a saint? Didn’t he have to go to that clinic in Switzerland — something to do with an addiction to sex?”

  “You obviously read the gutter press. He’s not like that at all. But you can make up your own mind when you meet him.”

  Daniels ran through the information in her mind that Allie had given her about Jason Brannan. He was a self-made billionaire, in his early forties, who had amassed a fortune in high-tech technology and had donated most of it to the JB Foundation: a charitable organisation sponsoring scientific research. Apart from his philanthropic activities and his tendencies to keep out of the public eye, little was known about him.

  The electric car pulled up in to the driveway of what looked like an old manor house. A gold placard outside the building simply had the words ‘The Sanctuary’ on it.

  Juliet led Daniels into the reception, nodding to the receptionist, and then took her to a room off a short corridor. On the door was a sign with the words ‘Shed the troubles of world and leave them behind you’. Juliet took her into the room, which was a changing room.

  Juliet turned towards Daniels. “There’s a strict dress code here. You must remove all your clothes and leave them here. In the locker you will find towels, a robe and a Caftan. You may wear whatever you feel most comfortable in.”

  “What?” said Daniels. “You must be joking?”

  But Juliet was already undressing and continued to do so until she had removed all her clothes and donned a white Caftan. After watching her, Daniels decided to follow her choosing a white Caftan. When they were both dressed, Juliet led her to another room, which had the word ‘Meditation’ on the door. Juliet led her into the room. There was a strong smell of furniture polish. The room was large and had a highly polished wooden floor but no furniture. A man, wearing a Caftan, was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the room with his eyes closed and his hands together in a sign of prayer.

  Juliet walked over to him, stopped a few feet away, and waited. A few seconds later he opened his eyes and smiled at her; then he turned towards Daniels.

  “So you are Ms Daniels from the CIA,” he said. “I presume you have already met Juliet, my wife and my business PA. So what is it you wish to know?”

  Dam, I should have been more careful about what I said to his wife.

  “I’ll come straight to the point. I want to know if you, or your organisation, had anything to do with the collision between Aurora and another craft on Sunday evening,” said Daniels.

  “The answer is ‘no’,” he said and paused. “Is that all?”

  “But you don’t deny that you have been building a prototype high altitude aircraft capable of achieving altitudes over 150,000 feet.”

  “The US government knows I have been developing such a craft. I tendered for a US procurement process for a high-altitude aircraft over two years ago.”

  “Which you lost to Dynamic Technologies.”

  “For the record, I didn’t lose to DT. I withdrew, because the US Government would not give assurances that the craft would only be used for science and space exploration. Without that assurance, I couldn’t be sure that the US government wouldn’t use it as a means of delivering orbital military weapons. Infinity’s prototype design is far superior to Aurora in every aspect of performance.”

  “So you have funded the development of this craft with your own funds?”

  “Correct. But the craft is still in the development phase. It won’t be ready for its first test flight until 2015.”

  “Then you would not mind if I had a team of scientists inspect it to confirm that.”

  “I certainly do mind. I resent having to prove myself to you or anyone.”

  “The US government can be pretty persuasive when it wants to be.”

  “The last time I looked the UK was not the fifty-first state of America. I have no intention of letting you or any American look at my research facilities. If that is what you have come for, you are sadly wasting your time. Good day Ms Daniels.”

  Daniels felt her cheeks flush. Inside she was boiling with anger. How dare this freak dismiss her so? She turned and stormed out of the room.

  Later that day, Jean Daniels emerged from her shower dripping wet. She dried herself off and came out of the bathroom into her hotel room in her robe. She picked up her watch to check the time. She had no time to dress if she was going to make her call. She picked up the mobile phone and keyed in the special number, which she had memorised, and lay back on the bed.

  “General Walters,” came the reply.

  “It’s Daniels, General. Progress is a bit slow. I’ve seen the site of the landing, and the craft has gone. I doubt that the Brits have taken it away from under our noses. Therefore, as it hasn’t been tracked since, it must have some kind of stealth technology beyond our comprehension. The Brits are searching the sea as a possible hiding place, but I don’t think that they are likely to be successful.”

  “Do you need any more resources?”

  “Not r
eally. I’m not sure what I could do with them anyway. The Brits are only putting up with us under sufferance. I don’t think they would react well to a bigger team. Anyway, we have a carrier in the North Sea; anything I need I can get from there.”

  “This Major from MI6, what do you know about him?”

  “He’s good at his job, professional and will follow his orders to the letter. But we’ve had our moments together in the past. I think I know how to control him.”

  “Then you need to get close to him.”

  “Don’t worry; I intend to. Goodnight General.”

  Daniels wandered over to a chest of drawers and opened the top one. She knew what she was looking for and pulled it out: a sexy black Basque. I’m sure the Major will like this.

  An hour later, Jean Daniels was standing on the quayside feeling frustrated. The Major had called her earlier in the day and said he would meet at the quayside at 6:30 p.m. It was nearly 7:00 p.m., and he had not called. She hated men who kept her waiting. Even more so this time: she had spent hours preparing for the encounter. Not a detail was out of place; the perfect hair and nails, the sexy thin black dress, the platinum diamond pendant and matching earrings and, of course, the sexy black Basque under her dress that he would see later. She was primed and ready to seduce him before the evening was out.

  As she stood on the quayside looking out to sea, she could see a motor launch coming in. At last. She waited for him as the launch reached the bottom of the steps. He jumped from the launch onto the steps and briskly ran up them.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “The sea search took much longer than I thought. How are you?”

  He was dressed in army fatigues and looked as though he had been over an assault course, a marked contrast to the way she was dressed.

  “I thought we could go to dinner,” she said.

  “Sorry I’ve already eaten. Did you make any progress tracking down the woman in the photograph?”

  She handed him a photograph.

  “The rocket scientists have worked on the photograph. This version is better. We hacked the university student records on the assumption that it might have been some kind of student prank. The facial recognition program identified three partial matches, and we followed them up. None of them was our woman.”

  “I hope you were discrete.”

  “They were returned, unharmed with little more than a bad hangover. It probably isn’t the first time they couldn’t remember what they did the night before.”

  “So you’ve drawn a blank. Any other leads?”

  “Not really. Anything from the search of the sea?”

  “Not a winkle: sonar, satellite, nothing at all. We’ve tried everything. The craft didn’t crash into the sea. The only other logical conclusion is that it’s gone. It must have some kind of stealth mode. It could be anywhere. I don’t think we are going to find it.”

  “So you’re giving up?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Our mission is complete; we secured the crash zone; put out a credible cover story and allayed public fears about a UFO: job done. Have you got anything else to go on?”

  “I still think the cat woman is the link. Perhaps she’s not a student.”

  “Then how do we find her?”

  “There’s a local costumier that supplies fancy dress and costumes to the theatrical world, but the only catsuits they have provided recently were to a local nightclub called ‘The Puss in Boots’. It might be worth following up.”

  “It’s a bit of a long shot. I’ll get Carla to follow up on it. We’ll have to send in the boys in Blue to take a look.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Not much.”

  “Can you give me access to local CCTV around the university?”

  “Okay, but I don’t want any more snatches without my consent.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I need to get back to the hotel and get a shower.”

  “Do you have to run off so quickly? You could always shower at my room at the Excelsior, and we could talk about what to do next,” she said smiling.

  He smiled, “Okay. I could do with some R and R.”

  “It wasn’t rest I had in mind, Major.”

  They got into his Land Rover and headed back to the Excelsior.

  Twenty minutes later, they were back at the Excelsior. The Major was in her bathroom. She had undressed and was lying on the bed wearing only a black sexy Basque that left her naked from the waist down. Her French knickers were on the bed beside her.

  She was listening to the sound of the shower in the bathroom when she heard a Blackberry mobile vibrate. She looked through his jacket and found it. On the screen was a message from Carla: “Sign on the badge found on the beach is not ‘8’ say the boffins. Turn it on its side and it’s the mathematical sign for infinity.”

  So the Major withheld information from her. It didn’t surprise her; she would have done the same. And now she could take advantage of the information. Infinity must mean Infinity Flight Technology; it was too much to be a coincidence. She quickly deleted the message and placed the Blackberry back in his jacket pocket. The Major no doubt would find out eventually, but by then it would be too late.

  She lay back on the bed, pleased with herself. She stretched out her arms and legs and sat up against the headrest waiting for him. She felt like a spider waiting for her prey.

  She remembered her first time she used sex to get what she wanted. He was a young Russian communications specialist. Her brief was simply: to collect low-level intelligence and to have no other contact with him. But she used her initiative. Once she had seduced him the quality of the intelligence escalated. For her, it brought a commendation and promotion; for the young Russian specialist, it brought a recall to Russia. He was never seen or heard of again. She didn’t feel any remorse, because she had done what she had to do. But from that moment on, she hated the KGB whom she felt were responsible for his demise.

  As she lay on the bed waiting for him, she wondered how to play the Major. He was as far away from the love-struck Russian as you could get; but the Major had a strong sexual appetite and she could use it against him. She planned to buy his trust by satisfying his lust. Like a whore, she would let him do whatever he wanted, and she would groan and moan as though he was the greatest sex god that had ever lived.

  But the truth was very different. Sex by itself never satisfied her. She liked painful sex; taking it and inflicting it. She was a sadomasochist. Which gender didn’t particularly matter to her. For her sex without pain simply was not fulfilling enough. She was discrete; nobody at the Agency knew anything of the clubs she frequented in Europe to satisfy her unusual needs.

  Tonight, however, was not about sexual gratification, but about doing her job. It would be about fooling the Major that she could be trusted. Then when it suited her, she would use it against him.

  She wondered if this is what it was like to be a whore. Perhaps it was. She would give him what he wanted; and she wanted something valuable in return. The General no doubt would be pleased with her dedication to her work and her willingness to go the extra mile for her country.

  If her performance was to go to plan, it would be a long and exhausting night. What the Major lacked in imagination he would almost certainly make up for in stamina before the night was through.

  The door to the bathroom opened, and the Major emerged wearing only a towel around his waist.

  Daniels waived her French knickers above her head and smiled provocatively. “I thought you could de-brief me,” she said.

  He smiled and came over to the bed.

  It was the early hours of the morning when Natasha picked up her mobile phone and called. She knew that Serge kept strange hours and if not, she didn’t care about waking him.

  “Serge here. Is that you, Richard?” came the reply.

  “No, it is Natasha.”

  “Oh shit. What have I done now?”

  “Nothing I’m aware of, but it would not sur
prise me one bit if you were doing something you shouldn’t be doing.”

  “I haven’t gone near any Russian websites; I swear. I have only gone to NASA and the CIA sites as you directed.”

  “Then you will have the information I need — about the UFO?”

  Natasha noticed him pause as if to decide whether to answer truthfully or not. “You will go back to Butyrka prison unless you cooperate with me one hundred per cent. That was the deal — to provide me with intelligence. I want everything you have on the UK UFO sighting. Don’t hold back on me, or you will regret it.”

  “What is it you want? You probably already have the NASA pictures. I also have some interesting pictures from Hubble that seem to show the craft minutes earlier in the region of Mars.”

  “Mars?”

  “Yes, something was out there and travelling at phenomenal speed and heading towards Earth.”

  “Then it is extra-terrestrial?”

  “Almost certainly. What else?”

  “There’s been a steady flow of e-mails between you and someone else in the UK. We’ve been monitoring you. I want the name of who’s involved, and what is this about a cat woman.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you everything I know. And I’ll send you the picture of the woman; but please don’t hurt my friend. He’s harmless.”

  “I’m not cruel. But I’ll do anything I can to make sure the Americans don’t get this technology. I am Russian patriot and so should you.”

  By the time Serge had finished talking, she had the name of Richard Bromley and the photograph of the cat woman. This should be more than enough to track down the woman.

  They met on the beach the following day. It seemed appropriate given what they wanted to talk about. The Major received a telephone call that morning from Natasha. They had met many times before, and although they were on opposite sides, they had forged a kind of friendly relationship: not exactly trusting, but not exactly hostile. She was a mature woman in her late thirties with brown eyes and jet-black hair, not unattractive to the Major. He was intrigued about what she might know about his assignment.