MERCURY'S SECRET

by Tobias Roote

  I laughed at his assumption about Alice. “No, she's just a civilian caught up in the middle of a nightmare scenario that should have died when the wall went down,” I clarified. “However, we are being hunted and I need as much background as possible.

  I think ‘M Section’ are sticking their oar in the pond as well as an old KGB head called Dubianko. We have either the new Russians in some form, or possibly another active but rusty old KGB/GRU connection.”

  “Why do you say rusty?” Brett interrupted.

  “Because they are using poorly trained Black Ops Teams with Spetznaz tactics, but I don't think they are official. They are sloppy and I shouldn’t have been able to get through them, but have done, twice!” I added.

  “I need to know as much as you can while keeping your feet dry, Brett.”

  I couldn’t afford to get Brett involved officially until I knew the extent of the operation against Alice and me. If the British government were involved it might compromise his safety.

  Of course, I had no control over Brett and I knew that once he started digging he wouldn’t stop until he had uncovered everything. I quietly hoped he would do just that and in the process get me the answer I needed; how to extricate us from this nightmare.

  “Okay, I need some time on this, call me same time tomorrow and I will try and identify your players. In the meantime you will need a 'GREY' for a mobile, you can't call me on an open line again. Too risky. Get a new disposable and text HOTPOTATO to 41141123.”

  “Thanks Brett, talk soon.” I hung up and made my way back to the car. I had bought a mobile ready and waiting for this contact. I would activate it as soon as I stopped later today.

  Alice awoke as I opened the door. I had previously switched off the courtesy light so it remained dark as I got back in.

  “Are we there yet?”

  “No, not far now though. I just took Mercury for a walk and the restaurant is open, I can grab a bite and some coffee ‘to go’ if you want. ”

  Fifteen minutes later we were back on the road working our way round the outskirts of Paris using my memorised route. The hot coffee burned my throat as I gulped it while driving one handed.

  While I drove, I thought about my conversation with Brett. It wasn't his real name, neither was Charlie mine, it was a hangover from our past 'dark' work where knowing names could get you killed. His skills were in tracking down targets and providing movement and background. He was the best, but would never work directly for any Spy Agency.

  He chose individuals to work with and then quietly offered his services. If you had Brett as a resource your value in the Section shot up as everyone knew he was a top hacker and would only work with people he trusted. It was a badge of honour, but not of promotion as there was always the suspicion upstairs that Brett might be manipulating records and reports. They all knew he could hack into the systems. Damn! He had written most of them!

  Nobody refused to work with him because he was often the difference between failure and success of a mission. He had built his own little organisation whose sole vocation was to keep him safe from us. The 'Us' being anyone who might want to push their attentions on him unwillingly.

  We had worked together from the beginning, he in his field, me in mine. I had provided him with much of the protection from other agencies in the early days as his reputation grew and upset the intelligence networks’ delicate status quo, only once having to directly intervene in a black operation to remove him. As a result he was my back door into everything I ever got involved in. I suspected his involvement in keeping me alive after I retired. Now, I hoped he could shed new light on my predicament.

  CHAPTER 21

  Late afternoon and we reached our destination. A small place in northern France on the border of Belgium. Here we could disappear for days with all the random Gites that were owned, rented, lived in, borrowed, empty or just ready and waiting for tenants. Often for cash, no tax, no receipts and in the traditional French way, no questions asked.

  There were several I knew of, where a nod was all that was necessary to secure a quiet and peaceful break from the world. They didn't take to questions in this part. There were stories that people who asked too many, ended up in the farmers pig pens. Dour lot around here.

  I tooted to an old farmer as I drove past the lane to his house. I stopped, stood up on the gunwale of the car and waved genially to him. He squinted against the afternoon light, then recognising me, waved his pipe at me and pointed up the road a way. I knew what he meant and waved back, got back into the car and drove up to the next track. It was overgrown and had been unused for sometime, his tractor the only evidence of anything passing through. I silently apologised in advance to the Mercedes and graunched my way over the first part of the track.

  Alice looked alarmed. “Do you know this track?”

  “Yes, I have been here before.” I smiled across at her reassuringly while the Mercedes negotiated a deep furrow left by the tractor. “Don’t worry it’s only rough for the first hundred yards.”

  The going got a lot easier after the first fifty feet where heavy tree cover had starved the undergrowth of vital sunlight. I followed the track upwards for about half a mile until finally we turned left at the top of the hillside into an old drive. You could just see through the undergrowth where two farm worker houses had been converted into one very pretty and remote holiday home, protected by a newly added wall and front garden. The track ended at the gated wall; Alice leaped out with Mercury right behind her, both desperate to get out of the car after eight hours trapped inside.

  When the gate was opened neither got back in, choosing instead to wait and close the gate behind me. I parked it right at the end, out of easy sight and under cover of a purpose built lean-to.

  I knew where the key was kept and within minutes we were inside into a warm and inviting kitchen with one of those old enormous fireplaces that at one time housed massive cauldrons hanging in them. The fire was not lit, of course.

  Mercury was off doing a Patrol mainly just to occupy him, he had been as good as gold in the car but needed exercise. He would get plenty later on, I intended to get some exercise myself. We had both missed our regular patrolling around the olive groves. That life seemed a long way away right now.

  Half an hour later a young teenage girl turned up at the door with a loaded basket covered with a napkin. Alice thanked her then took the heavy basket and placed it on the worktop so she could unload it leaving us with a dozen eggs, vegetables, milk, butter, bread and a freshly killed chicken as well as two unlabelled bottles of home made red wine.

  The young girl seeing Mercury in the courtyard having stalked her all the way took an immediate shine to his playful attitude and they rattled around the yard playing chase and ballgames for a while before she finally departed waving to the window where Alice stood looking out.

  Watching her while I hunted around for the corkscrew I wondered what was going on in her head right now. She had held together pretty well for someone who was inexperienced in ‘fight or flight’ stress. She almost seemed like an old hand which of course wasn’t possible, but she had an inner resilience about her that gave the impression of outward confidence.

  It had been a crazy week for both of us so far. It was about to start getting dangerously weird. I hoped she could hold it together, and not for the first time considered leaving her somewhere safe until this was all over. It wouldn't work I knew, at least not until we had things under better control. Besides, I liked having her around. No, actually, I loved having her around.

  Tonight we were under the roof of yet another safe house, but this one an old favourite of mine. I knew the locality well for I had stayed here many times before. The last, a desperately black time. I slammed the lid on that emotional train of though before it overwhelmed me. I had more important things to do just now.

  Walking out of the kitchen into the adjoining room I took out my new throwaway phone and sat down in what was laid out as the lounge. It wasn't
fancy, remaining true to its origins, a farm workers home. The décor was old, quality and suited the room.

  I texted the word HOTPOTATO and keyed in the telephone number I had been given by Brett, and left the phone on the table to do its thing. It would download software upgrades that would turn the phone into an untraceable GREY phone which would allow me to call anywhere without fear of being traced.

  I walked over to the window and moving the net curtain aside, looked over the short back lawn and vegetable patch which despite me not being here was well maintained. The Farmer’s sons, I knew, came in regularly to chop it back or take the crop back for their own use. It was always planted up with vegetables in case anyone turned up to stay.

  The countryside behind it looked, in contrast, wild and unkempt reminding me of another jungle, far away and a long time ago. Another fleeting memory of a previous existence.

  The phone beeped and it lit up. I picked it off the table and held it up. One text message received.

  Subject: Upgrade complete: this phone is now GREY. Use with any SIM anywhere without billing or tracing.

  Brett was, in his own way, a God of his own electronic world. He never failed to come up with the goods. Too date there had been nothing that man had not been able to hack, crack, write or operate. If it had a circuit board he would make it do stuff it was never designed for and it would sing happily for him. In the commercial world he could be a billionaire with what he could achieve.

  I don’t know, he might well be under another persona. As much as you believe you know someone, you never really know them. Brett had his own secrets and there had been times in the past I had trodden a little close to his path and he had admonished me. I respected him and steered clear. We all have our own private lives.

  I took the first SIM card that I had taken from the Surveillance Villa in Marseilles and put it into the phone and switched it on. Scanning messages and calls in and out, I made a few notes. Then took it out and replaced it in its phone. There were no phone messages and no texts.

  Taking the second SIM I did the same. Took more notes and compared the two.

  Both SIM's showed regular calls to the same number I had called from the safe house in Marseilles. Androv was seemingly the boss of this operation. Good, I always liked to talk to the organ grinder.

  My nose twitched at the smell of a roasting chicken, but I kept my head down, I had more work to do before dinner.

  I replaced my SIM in the phone and switched it on again. I dialled the number I had for Androv.

  “Who is this?” he answered. I smiled. The GREY was working, it wouldn’t show a number of the caller and he wouldn't be able to trace the call, but he wouldn't know that for a few minutes yet.

  “I'm calling about the weather,” I answered him keeping to a cryptic conversation for a moment, although the need had now been circumvented by Brett's reprogramming of the phones software, I still wanted them to think differently.

  “Ah! My friend, we missed you yesterday. We were going to visit, but you had already left,” he said cheerfully, then a muffled conversation as I guess he instructed someone to triangulate our call.

  “Oh,” I said, “I thought you had already visited us the night before. We must both thank you for such a good nights sleep.”

  “Aah!“ Silence.

  “Did you find what you were looking for, Androv?” I asked putting the pressure on knowing full well that he hadn't.

  “I'm sorry, my friend, it was necessary. You have something that does not belong to you. It is better if it gets back to where it belongs, no?”

  “No!” I said, “It is in good hands, it is safe so long as we are. I hope you agree that no further visits will be acceptable? Your people were luckier than the others, no?”

  “Da! Thank you for that, although they will be poor for a little while, the equipment was not cheap,” he laughed off my warning.

  I heard the phone muffle as he had a conversation with someone nearby him.

  “My friend, how well you travel! You are in San Diego, and Mombasa and now you are in Moscow. For which country would you like a weather forecast?” I sensed the change in his tone as he realised we were no longer going to be easy to track.

  I laughed genuinely. I almost liked this man for his professionalism and balance. “I think the weather here is just fine at moment, not a cloud in the sky and temperatures are cool.”

  “Well! My friend, then how is it we may assist you?”

  “Tell Abbey we need to talk to her.” I gave him the telephone number that was showing as mine on the SIM. It was untraceable and his people would not be able to eavesdrop on any calls made to it.

  “This may not be possible, the person you want is no longer in communication with us.” He faltered as if realising the implications of not being able to put me and Abbey together. We would have no further use for him.

  “Nonetheless, Androv, I need to speak with her. When you can contact her, please pass on my number.” I put a little steel in my voice, just enough to ensure he understood it was not a light-hearted request, but an instruction.

  “Oh, and Androv, do not attempt to locate us. 'Yego trudnoye, chtoby videt' v temnote, lyudi mogut postradat' uslavlivat'sya'.” I had just told him that ‘in the dark it was difficult to see and people could get hurt’.

  “Da, ponyal, but my friend, your Russian is appalling! Maybe we can have an opportunity sometime soon to help you improve it,” he laughed, but it was good natured. He had understood and agreed.

  The phone went dead. I contemplated the conversation I had just had. They had come for a second go last night and probably with the intention of using more persuasive methods. We had been very lucky again. I wondered about the comment about them not being in touch with Abbey, that was a strange admission to make.

  Was Androv giving me a message? Perhaps they were not as close to Abbey as I had thought. The light hearted offer of language lessons was a warning not to let my guard down. All in all it had gone better than expected.

  I looked up suddenly to see Alice in the doorway, leaning against it with arms folded. She was studying me intensely. I realised I could almost sense what she was thinking now purely from the way she looked at me. I wonder if she knew how much she gave away of herself with the expressions on her face. Something I had said there had surprised her.

  Smiling at her I explained the call adding “I don't think our Marseilles friends will hinder us further.”

  “You speak Russian as well?” was her only response as she turned and went back into the kitchen.

  I half wondered what she meant at that, but she called out as she walked away. “Do you want to cut the chicken, darling?” and I remembered I was ravenous and the lovely smell of food cooking was making my very empty stomach gurgle .

  CHAPTER 22

  It was a nice evening, I decided on a brisk walk with Mercury. Alice opted to come too. We took a left out of the cottage and soon found ourselves on a well used animal track. I knew this track was also used by the Farmer's sons when out hunting, but out of politeness they wouldn’t use it while we were staying there as it was attached to the property, in fact the whole hill was.

  Mercury immediately forged ahead tracking everything while marking his territory. He was happy to be free of the house and car. By mutual consent we didn’t talk while we worked the stiffness and stress out of our muscles so it was a couple of miles before we slowed and began to stroll again.

  As we did so Alice pushed her arm through mine and we walked in companionable silence for a while. The wood around the cottage was old, only the occasional pine and many of the trees along the way were gnarled with age. It gave off a feeling of timelessness and solitude.

  I felt Alice stop, pull slightly on my arm; as I turned towards her she slipped both arms around my waist pulling me tight. Lifting her head she waited for my head to drop towards her. Her kiss, gentle and tender stirred me as I felt the world around me disappear. In those few seconds the problems and t
rouble hounding us didn't exist as I stepped into her world for a blissful moment, wishing fervently that I could exist there forever.

  All too soon the moment was gone. Her head resting on my chest, I gazed at the sun going down behind the hills and felt the air change as it took the warmth with it. Alice shivered.

  I turned us back onto the path to the house and whistled Mercury to Patrol. We dawdled, arms around each other, hips rubbing together, a hint of something pleasant to come perhaps.

  Back in the farmhouse I had a small chink of memory recall and delving into a built-in unit and removing the base, finding the remains of a bottle of Jameson's where I had hidden it at some point in the past. This brought a look of total disbelief from Alice as she walked to the dresser and pulled out two chunky glasses.

  “Are you going to tell me just how you knew that was there?” she asked as she moved the filled glasses away from me teasingly as I went to take one.

  “It was uh.. um.. medicinal .. when I was here one time recuperating from an injury,” I said, not wanting to admit it was one of many I had stowed away at that time in my life, where not only my body was shot up, but the loss of my team and my family had left me in a mental mess that took me six months to pull back together. It was only the intervention of an old girlfriend that had helped me pick up the pieces and move on. I knew didn't want to mention any of that to Alice.

  Appeased, Alice relented and let me have the glass, but not before teasing me a little more. Mercury was relaxed, sprawled out on the only piece of carpet in the room. We decided that the sofa was big and comfy enough for both of us and we ended up lying together, her body on mine my head supported by the big fat cushy arm of the leather suite and the Jamesons on the floor in easy reach.

  I spied a small blue light on the corner unit and with an inspired guess moved my hand down the side of the sofa cushion. Not there, how about the back. Ah! There it is! My fingers closed over a small plastic box and pulled it out. Pointing it at the blue light I pressed