I now realise that either Doug had been misled by his contact at MI5 or he was deliberately lying to me. I suspect that it was the former because Doug played a recording for me that emanated from Thames House and it included Mr Barry Mitchinson voicing the agreed code phrase for; go ahead.
I participated in the abduction of the Hokobus, an act for which I am now deeply regretful but which at the time I understood was for the greater good. I deliberately planned the abduction so as to cause no harm. I carried no weapon nor did I, at any time, use violence. I subdued their bodyguard with a paralysing spray that causes less discomfort and less long lasting effects that CS spray or pepper spray. I convinced the Hokobus to return to their car, where I sprayed them too and left them, leaving the keys in the car for Doug McKeown, who was to drive them to an undisclosed location.
When I left them they were in temporary distress but not in any danger. I was stunned when I learned that they had been killed. By then Doug McKeown was uncontactable and I felt very vulnerable as I had lost a contact lens which may have given the authorities reason to believe that I was a murderer. I decided to leave the country as soon as possible and clear my name. My reason for leaving the country, and for making my statement in protective custody in the USA, is simply that my life may be in danger. In our former business termination often means more than simply being fired.
Imagine then my surprise when the next day I received a coded call from MI5 asking me to attend a secretive meeting with a junior operative. I met him in the abandoned Strand Tube Station, which had been used for anti terrorist training in the past.
He told me that his employers at MI5 did not know who the Chameleon was but that they were convinced it was Doug McKeown and that he had overstepped the mark killing the Israeli Foreign Minister and the Hokobus. They applied pressure on me to kill my old mentor and provide proof of death.
I had no alternative. I was frightened for my own life but in the end my efforts were not necessary. I tracked Doug down to a ‘lock up unit’ we had used in the past and I wanted to confront him. I must stress that I was unarmed and that I was in extreme danger because, his affection for me apart, Doug was a trained killer. I entered the lock up through an open door in the rear, only to discover mayhem inside. There had been an explosion and not much of my old mentor remained. I carefully gathered up his remains and set fire to the workshop.
I passed the gathered remains to my former employers at MI5, who confirmed the remains belonged to Doug by DNA testing. My own view is that someone, possibly the Israeli’s, found out who the Chameleon really was and terminated him.
Later I was asked to attend another meeting with the junior operative, a Mr Tim McKinnon, for debriefing. I was wary because of the fact that I was the only outsider who could now identify Doug McKeown as the killer of the Hokobus, and the only one who heard Mr Barry Mitchinson of MI5 give the go ahead.
I attended the meeting and as I had anticipated Tim produced a gun. Once again I was unarmed. Tim shot me three times in the torso and l fell into a lift shaft. Luckily I was wearing a ceramic body cover under my Kevlar body protector and I was able to break my fall by grabbing onto a rope. Tim shot a couple of rounds down the dark shaft for good measure and left me for dead. I managed to escape but not before I heard Tim screaming. I later learned that a man had been electrocuted by the third rail in the rarely used tunnel and knew it must be Tim.
Given that I was supposed to be dead, and soon would be if I stayed around, I ran for safety and planned to clear my name whilst remaining in a safe haven.
By the issue of this statement I freely acknowledge my guilt as to my participation in the temporary abduction of the Hokobus but stress that, as far as I knew, Doug McKeown was going to hold the couple for three days until the conference was over and then he was to deposit them at their embassy in London.
Obviously I regret my actions. I am deeply saddened by the death of a couple who I now know were more honest and well intentioned than the governments who ordered their demise. I would happily return to the UK to be tried for the lesser offence of assisting in an abduction but I am afraid that I would not live to defend myself as my defence would open MI5 to a scrutiny that they would not find acceptable.
Let me say that I trust the UK Government implicitly and that I trust the head of MI5 implicitly but I believe that rogue elements within MI5, namely Mr Barry Mitchinson and his Director, are operating outside of their remit and the law. I have now been told that the Director took his own life on hearing that I had escaped his jurisdiction.
Finally, attached to this affidavit are details of illicit bank accounts held in safe havens where blood money is concealed and used to pay assassins like the Chameleon, and to benefit the rogue agents named above.
I therefore formally request the protection of the United States of America, whose passport I hold, and in due course I will issue a prayer of pleading to request that any extradition procedures be rebuffed.
Signed: _________________________________Gillian Davis (Miles).
Date: _________________________
Witnesses Ordinary: 1: _______________________Senator Denton Miles III
Witnesses Ordinary 2: ________________________James Lorimer, USA, DoJ
Notary: ________________________________________
Chapter 62
Courtyard Marriott Hotel, Lynchburg, Virginia,
Thursday 9:50pm.
Everyone had finished reading the statement and had dismissed it as the fiction it clearly was, whilst all secretly harbouring the feeling that if they had been unaware of the reality, this fiction might just sway them. Steve Post was the first to summarise the situation.
“People, this is the work of a warped genius. She has given up a potential murderer, cast herself as a victim and has implicated the UK in the murder of foreign nationals around the globe. As I said earlier, even the FBI have benefitted from her skills. She has an entry on the CJIS database and, whilst it is scant on detail, it seems to involve Cuba, and that is something our Government won’t want anyone to know.
By writing what, on the surface, is an admission of guilt for kidnapping, she is threatening our two governments with embarrassment and humiliation. Given that she has such powerful allies I suspect that the FBI and CIA will pressure MI5 to let her go. First, because she knows too much, and second, because any future President who looked favourably on them would be an important ally for the secret services.”
Their main courses arrived and although no-one was hungry any longer they ate anyway. There was simply nothing more to say.
***
Just as the disenchanted group in Virginia were beginning their meal, Barry Mitchinson’s laptop beeped. An incoming email had been received. The MI5 man opened the attachment headed Affidavit and read the un-redacted version of the documents. His mouth gaped open as he discovered that he was named as a rogue agent who had authorised the killing of the Hokobus and who had also ordered the killing of Gillian Davis.
Of course, this was all true, but no-one should have known anything about any of it. Bloody hell, this was supposed to be a secret service, a secret service that couldn’t keep a bloody secret!
The phone rang. Maureen Lassiter was on the other line. She was crying. Her sobs were so frequent that he could hardly understand a word she was saying.
“Look at the attachment,” she sobbed, before becoming incoherent again.
Barry flicked over to the last page and read down the list. When he reached the last item he dropped the phone and threw his head in his hands. Maureen Lassiter heard him screaming, “No, no, no!” followed by an insane rant which concluded with the words, “I’m going to kill the bitch!”
***
Maureen hung up the phone and stared in disbelief as her future evaporated in front of her eyes, almost a million pounds disappearing from sight like a bad magic trick.
There, on the bottom line of the attachment, was the information that she and Barry had thought was totally
secret:
“Britannic Investment Group, Isle of Man: Manx Bank & Trust
a/c nr. 08136541, password: Alleviate, passcode: 19-24356-98734-34285-A-Q.
Balance: GBP 974,645.00”
It had gone. All of it. It was now safely secured in the coffers of Her Majesty’s Treasury.
Chapter 63
Notting Hill, London, two days earlier.
With help from Doc, Gil had tracked back the last payment made to the Chameleon, the one which had been made by the Maratis. According to the Chameleon’s online statement, the payment originated from the National Bank of Marat. The details of the account number and account holder were shown clearly on the statement, as required by international law. Armed with this information, and the time of the transaction, Doc made a polite enquiry of the bank’s lightly protected, daily suspense account database. As Doc later explained to Gil, the reason these bank records are only protected by a simple firewall is that they are ‘read only’ and they contain less data than is printed on cheques and bank debit cards. He joked that the information on the database wouldn’t be of any use to a Nigerian spammer, for instance. This is because access to this suspense account database does not allow the reader to alter or amend any records. Nor does it help a hacker gain access to the triple firewalled, independently wired and much more secure, transactional banking system.
Nonetheless, and as expected, the database contained a back up copy of all the day’s transactions, in and out. A quick look down the list produced the information Doc had been seeking. Minutes after the $1 million was transferred to the Chameleon, the same account was debited £100k in favour of Britannic Investments in the Isle of Man. It had been credited to account number 08136541. Doc was now on the prowl.
***
Barry Mitchinson proved to be a hard man to hack. Doc tried unsuccessfully for hours before accepting defeat. It wasn’t that Barry’s system was secure; it was simply the case that he was seldom online and one can’t hack an unconnected computer. The breakthrough came when Gil suggested that Doc might have more success with a different approach.
Doc owned one suit, and it had to serve for weddings, funerals and the occasional court appearance. It was looking a little worn, but with a new white shirt and tie and heavy rimmed glasses, Doc looked the part as he rang the doorbell.
A tearful Eloise Ter Haar answered the door and looked enquiringly at the rather odd young man in the suit.
“Eloise Ter Haar?” he asked.
“Or Eloise Mitchinson,” she hastily replied, “yes.”
“Graham North, Security Services IT Breaches Division.” He held up a warrant card that looked real enough at a quick glance but which in reality was photoshopped from an internet image. Doc felt that the leather card holder, £7 from Amazon, lent it an air of authority.
“I’m afraid my husband no longer lives here. I don’t know where he is. But let’s discuss this inside. To the neighbours you’ll look like a bailiff.”
Doc sat down with the very attractive middle aged woman. He had always preferred women of his own age but suddenly he could see the attraction of a more mature woman. Even in her tearstained condition she looked sophisticated and sexy. He wondered briefly whether, given her vulnerable emotional state, he might have a chance of getting to know her a little better. His wandering attention was halted by her sultry but quivering voice.
“What exactly can I do for you, Mr North?”
Doc explained that a computer at that IP address had attempted to access a restricted server in MI5, and that he was here to investigate. He also explained that it was an offence and that it carried jail time. He wasn’t actually sure that was the case but it sounded ominous and had the desired effect. Eloise swore that she had never tried to access the MI5 server, that she was innocent and that Doc must believe her, she had just lost a close personal friend who had committed suicide and her husband had left her for a hussy who lured him away with perverted sex.
Doc lost his train of thought for a moment as visual images raced across his still adolescent brain.
“Don’t worry, Eloise, the chances are that your husband’s computer is trying to link in to the server automatically when you log on. I take it you have a shared computer?”
She nodded.
Eloise led Doc upstairs, her tight pencil skirt swaying with her hips as she ascended the steep staircase. She turned to ensure he was following, and smiled when she saw where his gaze was centred.
Eloise showed Doc the large screen Apple Desktop PC and switched it on.
“Please do as you like with it. I don’t need any more trouble in my life.”
Doc could have sworn that she had one less button fastened on her blouse than she’d had downstairs, and as a result he was treated to a feast of cleavage as she handed him the mouse.
Quickly and efficiently Doc set to work, ignoring Eloise’s work and private files at her request. Barry’s section of the computer was untidy and disorderly, but it took just a few minutes to locate a number of hidden files. The first was a large folder called ‘empics’ which appeared to contain Jpegs and mpegs, while the second was a smaller file called ‘Personal Info’.
“Would you mind bringing me a glass of water, please? I’m parched.” Doc hoped that Eloise Ter Haar would give him a few moments alone. She obliged, smiling the whole time.
Doc quickly cloned Barry Mitchinson’s section of the hard drive, before deleting Barry’s account. He quickly scanned the personal info file, and there in the folder he found a neatly typed word file called passwords and access codes.
“Why do people never learn?” he muttered under his breath.
On the sheet were passwords and pin numbers galore. He found the Britannic Investments password and pass-code, but his heart missed a beat when he saw the next line. It contained access details and passwords for Mitchinson’s workstation at Thames House. This was the Holy Grail for hackers; an introduction to MI5’s servers. Doc would be shaking hands, figuratively, with the MI5 server within the hour. He was going to be famous among his peers.
The download was complete and the hard drive clean as he heard Eloise ascending the stairs. He wanted a quick look at his USB drive data to ensure all the data had transferred correctly, and so he opened the picture file empics/ling/lounge.
***
When Eloise entered the room she saw Doc staring at the screen, his mouth gaping open. On the 21 inch screen was a picture of Eloise Ter Haar reclining on the sofa in a black basque and fishnet stockings.
Doc tried to speak, to apologise, but only a squeak emanated from his lips. Eloise smiled, put a perfectly manicured finger under his chin and closed his mouth.
“I wouldn’t want anyone to hear about any of this. You know, I am an innocent victim in all of this.” Doc nodded weakly. He was scared and excited at the same time, and his excitement was showing through his thin, cheap suit trousers. Eloise noticed.
“Obviously I can make it worth your while for you to keep me out of your enquiry.”
***
Two hours later a sweaty and tired Doc sat on the tube train wearing a stupid grin on his face. He had come to a realisation. He had been wasting a lot of valuable time with drunken nightclub girls.
Despite the fact that he had the passwords to an account worth hundreds of thousands of pounds on the USB drive in his pocket, he was most looking forward to opening the other ‘empics’ jpegs. Eloise Mitchinson was all woman.
***
Once Doc had cloned Barry’s hard drive and sent the account details to Gil, he had offered to drain the account and share the spoils with her. Gil had refused, reminding him he was being paid well enough already.
No, Gillian Davis wanted her erstwhile boss to suffer, knowing that his ill gotten gains had been taken by the same employers who were about to terminate him.
Terminate him with extreme prejudice, she hoped.
Chapter 64
Miles Estate, Lynchburg, Virginia, Friday 7pm.
&n
bsp; Dee had said her goodbyes to Pete and the two detectives, who were now all flying back to the UK in time for the weekend, although how relaxing a weekend it would be for them was open to question. All three had been angry and frustrated when they left the hotel.
Steve Post had told them that he would make it his life’s work to ensure that if Gillian Miles strayed off the straight and narrow he would be there to catch her, but the promise seemed more rhetorical that practical. Steve was determined and well intentioned, but Gillian Miles had made a life out of evading responsibility for her actions and now in one rolled up, global confession she had swept all former criminality under the carpet. What was even more galling for all concerned was the fact that she had done it with the cooperation of the authorities.
Now, against every piece of advice she had been offered – mostly unrequested - Dee stood leaning against a tree on the Miles Estate waiting for the Chameleon to make an appearance.
The main house and grounds were deserted, although a black and white cruiser patrolled every hour or so. The Senator, his wife and his staff were at a political rally in Washington DC, to be followed by a sumptuous state dinner in honour of a visiting head of state, according to the Washington Post’s internet site.
Steve Post had been Dee’s most fervent opponent in this regard. He had been forceful in his language when he told her that, whilst no good could come from a meeting with Gillian Miles, something bad could certainly come from it, something very bad. He had even offered to go ‘off duty’ and offer her some back up, but she refused. His career would be in tatters if the Senator ever found out the FBI agent was harassing his daughter.
The weather was cold, but Dee could bear it. She thought about Josh and home and West Ham fighting for their Premiership survival tomorrow, but she knew that she could not leave without confronting Gillian Miles. So she waited.
***
An old Chevy Tahoe belonging to the estate pulled up in front of the lodge concealed behind the main house, and a woman stepped out. In the half light it was difficult to say whether it was Gillian Miles or not. The woman came around to the tailgate, opened it and picked up two bags of shopping. Dee stepped forward out of the shadows and walked towards the woman, standing in the glow of the courtesy light.
Chameleon - A City of London Thriller Page 29