“You know that we have an interest in this man, Merchant. Is he a friend or is he just your landlord?” “Well, he is my landlord but not a real friend. We do occasionally meet up at the local pub – we both enjoy the odd quiz night. Other than that, I just pay my seventy quid a week rent to him and try to avoid him when he’s drunk.”
“I see. Do you know his mobile phone number by any chance? And he has a computer I assume.” Alfred steered them away from a crowd of Japanese tourists and they headed across the grass towards the Lido. “He’s got a laptop in the flat. It’s pretty old, but works.” Tom pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and searched through his contacts list. “His mobile number is there.” He showed Alfred the number.
“What about a landline telephone?” - “There is a phone there but it has never been connected all the time that I have lived in the flat.”
“I need your mobile number as well. Now what about security? What keys do you need to come and go?” - “The front door has two locks but we only ever use the latch lock at the top.”
“Is there another door to the flat?” - “There is a sort of rear courtyard at the back, but it is tiny and you can’t get to it except by climbing out of someone’s window and shinning down a drain pipe.”
The three walked around Hyde Park for nearly half an hour. “Does he go to the pub every day at lunchtime? What times do you come and go? Have you overheard any suspicious telephone calls? Do you ever see any of his notes? Have you any idea what story he might be working on at the moment? Does he own a gun? Does he have any regular visitors? Who else knows him well? This old man, Charlie, does he strike you as a republican type? When do you start working at Larkhill? How long has Merchant owned his flat? Have there been any other lodgers in the flat? Do you know of any family that he keeps in contact with? Presumably there is no longer a Mrs Merchant? Do you think he could be gay? Has he ever mentioned any projects that he is working on? Do either of you set the burglar alarm when you are out?”
Eventually, Alfred turned to Tom. “Thank you for your cooperation Tom. If you feel that there is something that you need to tell me then give Mort a call and he will contact me. Okay?” With that Alfred walked away towards Knightsbridge. The Inspector reminded Tom of the sensitivity of the whole business and then said, “I hate being called Mort. You should call me Brian from now on Tom. Remind the Professor to check the rules for moving his classified filing cabinet.”
“Is he in MI5?” asked Tom. The Inspector did not answer the question but walked away with a grin on his face.
Tom returned to the laboratory and continued the packing. He remembered the card with Morton-Farrell’s telephone number and entered it into his contact list on his mobile phone. He had just made his late afternoon cup of tea when the Professor came in slightly out of breath. “Hello Tom. I am sorry to have left you with all of this. It has taken me an hour to return the hire car. The traffic is dreadful. So is everything okay. Any calls?”
“I think I’ve only taken one call all day and that was a wrong number. I had my vetting interview and that went well. Cup of tea, James?” Tom knew that he could not talk to the Professor about the meetings with Morton-Farrell or Alfred from MI5. Besides, he thought that it was all rather blown out of proportion. What harm could a drunken old fart do he asked himself.
---oooOOOooo---
In a small office on the 3rd floor of Thames House, on the north side of the River Thames, Alan Fredericks put through a call to Inspector Morton-Farrell. “Mort? Hi, it’s Alfred. Can you go green?” There was a click on the line, the briefest of hums and then they were connected over a cryptographically protected circuit, completely safe from eavesdroppers or foreign security services.
“Alfred, please call me Brian. I left Mort behind at the police training college, remember?”
“Sorry old chum. Look I’ve done a bit more on our man Merchant. His file was put on an annual review not long after he was sacked, but he managed to disappear from our radar in about 1989, probably about the time he moved to Elm Park Gardens. The flat is not in his name. It belongs to a guy called Shaw, but I can’t find any regular transfers of rent out of Merchant’s bank account. It could be that Merchant has some money stashed away under another name or else this Shaw character is very generous.”
“Do you have anything on your system for Merchant other than the link to us here? I am particularly looking for minor offences, you know, parking or drunk and disorderly.”
Morton-Farrell scanned his computer system. “He was done for minor assault in 1980. He was fined £10. Ah, this is interesting. In 1988 there was an MP caught urinating in the street near Covent Garden. It made a big splash in the press,” he chuckled, “well our man Merchant was with him and quite a few people remember the picture of the two of them leaving the police station giving V signs to the photographers. The MP was Mr Stanley Hartle.”
“I remember him. He’s here on my system. He was the one who said on BBC radio that the Queen should get a proper job. He was kicked out of the Labour Party after that and died the following year. Anything else?”
“No. That’s it.” Morton-Farrell had nothing more to add. The call ended.
Alfred made another call, “Can you pop up, I’ve got a quick one for you?” Twenty minutes later, Manute and Jeffreys, two junior investigators appeared. “Ah, Mutt and Jeff, come in boys. I want you to do a bit of devilling for me.”
The following day, Saturday, was a dull and slightly chilly day for the time of year. Mutt was at one end of Elm Park Gardens and Jeff had just followed Angus Merchant to the pub at the far end of Drayton Gardens. Mutt watched Tom unlock his motorcycle, put on his crash helmet and drive off. Jeff heard the crackle in his earpiece, “Jo-Jo just left. I’m ready when you are.”
Mutt and Jeff were masters of their trade and worked well as a team. Jeff walked back to Elm Park Gardens and as he turned the corner from Fulham Road he gave two quick presses on the switch of his two way radio. Mutt casually walked across the street and down the steps to the basement flat. He first tried the door, just in case, and then pulled a stiff L shaped plastic tool from his pocket. Within two seconds he had opened the door and quickly and quietly went inside and shut the door behind him. Jeff kept lookout but gave the impression that he was waiting to be picked up by car. Every now and then, he would glance at his watch and showed visible anguish at the late arrival of his lift.
Inside, Mutt went through his well rehearsed and practised routine. He found Merchant’s laptop on the table in the sitting room. First he connected a memory stick and a blank hard drive to the two USB ports on the side of the laptop. The computer program on the memory stick started the process of cloning the laptop’s hard drive and whilst that was going on, he began his search of the flat. Tom’s bedroom was reasonably tidy for a single man in his early twenties and Mutt was able to quickly establish that there was nothing of any interest there. The rest of the flat was in poor order and suffered from years of neglect. The sitting room carpet was covered in stains from spilt wine and beer. This was probably the cause of a pub like smell that pervaded the flat. Mutt was pleased to be wearing his surgical gloves as he went about his work. He took photographs of the bookshelves so that the book titles could be recorded. This provided a useful insight into the target’s character and had occasionally been of value when direct contact was required. He found several boxes of neatly bundled newspapers which were all conveniently labelled and contained past articles Merchant had written. It was clear that the ageing drunk had once been, and perhaps still was, a meticulous administrator. Another box revealed a scrapbook and numerous loose photographs. Mutt flicked through the items as quickly as he could. There was nothing much to note in the flat and yet, taken as a whole it told the story of a lonely man whose friends were always the other side of a bar or had a glass in their hands, a man longing for his past but unable to control his drinking. He was ruled by the devil that sat on his back and dictated his every move.
Mutt was searching through the pockets of jackets and trousers in the wardrobe when he noticed a shoebox tucked behind some worn out shoes. He reached in and grabbed the box. It contained more loose photographs, an old mobile phone and a small notebook, the sort that one might have used at school. It had a cheap soft cardboard cover in a faded maroon. At the top of the cover someone had written “Lord C” with a fountain pen. The contents looked interesting and so Mutt carefully photographed each of the twenty pages of notes. He also noticed that there was an old fashioned five pound note held into the back inside cover with a paper clip. He carefully removed the paper clip and discovered that it was in fact half of a five pound note. He photographed both sides and then carefully replaced it in the notebook. He then examined the mobile phone and removed the battery to reveal the SIM card. He adjusted his digital camera to the macro setting and photographed the SIM card and the various model and serial numbers inside the phone. This would make it much easier to set up call intercepts if it should be required. He reassembled the phone, repacked the shoebox and replaced it in the wardrobe.
Mutt had one final check before leaving the basement flat and walking off towards the Fulham Road. Jeff watched him reach the end of the road and then followed. The two returned to Thames House and handed over the camera memory card, the cloned hard drive and some handwritten notes to the researchers. As Merchant was on such a long watch the analysis of the new information would be a low priority and would therefore take several weeks. Mutt and Jeff were already being briefed about their next task.
The report from the researcher assigned to the task took 3 weeks to produce. It was placed in Angus Merchant’s file which then sat for another week in Alfred’s in-tray as he was busy with far more important work. He chose to read the file as a bit of light relief after completing yet another progress report on an ongoing counter terrorist operation. Alfred was very bright and, being so busy, his mind was sharp and could quickly assimilate new information.
The report of the break-in was only 6 pages long but it had a further 10 pages printed with 3 photographs per side. Alfred could use his office computer to look at all of the original photographs and at the handwritten notes made by Mutt if he wished. The cover sheet had the report title, “Merchant Flat” and then a series of check boxes that were ticked if relevant. This showed that no psychological analysis had been made, no DNA evidence taken, no eavesdropping devices deployed or recovered and no items removed or substituted. Merchant was not into IT and did not own a digital camera, so the cloned hard drive had little of interest.
The most significant file from the computer was a draft of an article about a member of the House of Lords and his mistress. They had a child who was now a respected figure in society. The draft article was disjointed and Merchant had used “CCC” for the name of the Lord, “GGG” to represent the name of the mistress and “XXX” for the name of the bastard child. The researcher had noted that there were a couple of references to “Lord C” which were clearly synonymous with “CCC’. The article had been almost entirely based on the contents of the notebook found in the shoebox. Merchant had either been incapable or had made no effort to do any research beyond the faded maroon covers of that little book. The article did describe how the maroon notebook came into Merchant’s possession. One of his many episodes of wining and dining potential informants or subjects of his work had involved a solicitor, Marcus Bridewell, from a small family practice in the City of London. The notebook had been found hidden behind the desk that had been used by Julian Bridewell, the late father of the solicitor. Marcus had no idea what story might lie behind the maroon notebook and could find no record in the company files to relate to it. In a late night drinking session Merchant, with a nose for a story, bought the book from Marcus for £100.
Julian Bridewell had been an upright and well respected member of his profession. He had acted as lawyer and confidential advisor to many members of the aristocracy including Lord C. Sometimes his clients would appear in person or else he would visit them at home or in a neutral location. On some occasions he would receive his instructions through a faithful retainer. Whether, in this case, he ever met the peer is unclear. He had arranged the purchase of property for his mistress, the transfer of funds for mother and child and the provision of further funds for travel and education. The identity of the three characters had been carefully protected. Not only had their names been given a cipher but the address of the mother and child was simply “No 17’.
The house had been purchased on or about 19th September 1950. There was no indication of whether it was leasehold or freehold or whose name might be on the deeds. There were some clues which a suitably patient super sleuth might find interesting. The rear of the house had sustained bomb damage during the latter part of World War II. It had been poorly repaired, probably due to the lack of good quality building materials, and there had been some correspondence with the previous owner’s insurers. The insurers had agreed an ex-gratia payment of £72 which had been accepted and used to strengthen the foundations at the rear and repair some cracked walls. When this work was being undertaken, an unexploded incendiary bomb had been found and the surrounding houses had been evacuated overnight whilst it was defused. Julian Bridewell had made a hurried note, “…the awful Mrs Cox next door caused a dreadful fuss as her pork chop was left in the oven. Advised Miss G to invite her in for sherry.”
There was another clue to the location of the house as there was a record in the maroon notebook that the house had been burgled on 17th April 1956 and silver to the value of £22 10s 6p had been removed and an insurance claim initiated. There were regular payments for items from Fortnum and Masons which were just before Christmas each year and probably coincident with the birthdays of mother and child. The MI5 researcher had made a note that there was sufficient information to have a good stab at where this house might have been but it would require authorisation as Merchant was not a terrorist or high priority target. Alfred put a red “No – wait for Cora” in the margin next to this comment.
For the past 10 years all of the MI5 files had been digitised so that they could be managed, searched and correlated by a new super computer. The computer was in the top 20 fastest electronic brains in the World. One of the very clever features of the computer system was a program called “Cora”, a new type of search engine which continuously looked through MI5 files and data on other computers around the World in order to find correlation between items related to suspects, cases and members of the State that afforded special protection. Cora would work night and day, 7 days a week, checking even the smallest snippet of new information. The link to the United Kingdom Land Registry, where records of all property ownership and transfers were held was due to become “live” in 2 or 3 weeks time as were the links to the Metropolitan Police Special Branch Systems and the United Kingdom National Police Database.
Within the maroon notebook were records of each term’s fees for a pre-prep, prep and public schools. The schools were not named but recorded as “Mrs K’s, St S and W. Again the researcher had indicated that this might provide sufficient detail to identify the schools and again Alfred had placed a red “No” in the margin.
The sudden illness and death of Miss G was recorded. She had been admitted to St Georges Hospital, Hyde Park on 2nd February 1971; another red “No” went into the margin. Julian Bridewell had written, “C was absolutely devastated by the loss of Miss G but was determined that his identity should not be revealed to Master X. The property was then sold and the proceeds used to buy a modest flat, somewhere in Fulham, for Master X. The balance of the money was placed in an account at “C&K” for the young man. The researcher had said that this was most likely Cox and Kings Bank which could be verified – yet another red “No” appeared.
Alfred had derived little distraction from the brief report. He sat back in his chair, took a sip of his water and then wrote, “No Immediate Action. Review in two months or before if Cora flags an alert. Then resume annual
watch on Merchant. Lord C may have been acting for someone far more senior in the aristocracy!” on the front cover of the report. He scribbled “BF [Bring Forward] in 2 months, Resume Watch” on a yellow sticky note that he attached to the front of the file which was then tossed with little further thought into his out tray. He then resumed the gruelling work on the counter terrorist operation. He had three field agents and a paid informer to control as well as keeping his boss up to date and the budget within some fairly tight limits. Oh how simple life would be if we could just chase spies and fifth columnists he thought.
Chapter 5 – Larkhill
Tom and the Professor had completed the move of the scientific equipment to Larkhill but they were still only “camping out”, as the Professor had put it, in the rented house in Durrington. Alison was still in London and the boys would travel back home each Friday afternoon. Tom was happy to use his motorcycle to get around and the Professor had taken a car on a 6 month lease, half funded through the project. The sorting out of all the boxes and crates had proved a considerable challenge. They had made provision for a large workbench but had forgotten to organise storage shelving. Luckily the Quartermaster, Harry Brandon, had come to the rescue. He had rustled up a couple of old wardrobes, three very substantial but old fashioned chests of drawers and some open metal shelving. On seeing the pickle that the Professor and Tom were in, he even managed to detail a work party of four fit young soldiers for a couple of days. So by the end of the first two weeks things were more or less straight. Throughout this time everyone had had to take great care not to fall into the curious round hole that had been made in the reinforced concrete floor. It was just over 2 metres across and about 1 metre deep, exactly as specified by the Professor. One of the young helpers had spotted a screwdriver in the middle of the hole and had jumped down to pick it up. He handed it to the Professor who recognised it as belonging to Tom. He put it on the workbench where most of the tools were laid out but did not bother to mention it to Tom.
Stone Message Page 8