by Ray Carole
A visible plastic dome on the back right ceiling was housing a camera unit that recorded all meetings. It was currently relaying these real-time images to Sully. Like all government agencies these days it was all about accountability; evidence of all discussions that provided decision-making capability and final sign-off had to be recorded. The flashing red LED light within the dome’s plastic outer was picked up by the guys, they knew it was filming, and they knew that someone was watching. Standard.
Two floors above Sully was picking up the minor idiosyncrasies, he noted Bob’s eyes were as deadpan as ever. Knowing this was the last time this camera would ever film live again, he couldn’t help but detect an atmosphere of anticipation was present looking at his iPad downlink.
He knew from experience that whilst they would each know that their body shapes couldn’t be further apart, they were all in the same game and intrigued how they would all come together; different parts of the chain, but all intricate to whatever this whole thing was. He grinned, knowing that their minds would be on the classic question as to whether this upcoming job was connected to something they had been working on before. For men that didn’t really vocalise too many questions, their minds would be teeming with them, not knowing when the man who had organised this would rock up. Sully smiled as he watched them all remain silent. They were professionals, they knew it was senseless making small talk – it was London, the weather had been shit all week, each one had endured running the gauntlet of the Underground and grazing though the freebie newspaper, whilst absorbing conversation around them. Just the odd clearing of a throat, or a few minor readjustments to their body postures slightly broke the silence. He noted it was only Alex, the less experienced member of the trio, that seemed to twitch in an uncomfortable and slightly nervous manner.
The other two, a pair of seasoned professionals not shy on intellect or personality, didn’t speak a word to each other. Both older gentlemen wise enough in their game not to give the watchers any material to analyse, or was it simply a matter of pride and not being the one to break their personal Mexican stand-off?
‘A few more minutes,’ Sully whispered, as they took another glance at their watches.
Looking at Bob’s steadfast mountainous frame, even in his seat he towered over the boy sitting opposite him, whose breathing had now quickened in pace under Bob’s continuous stare.
Unlike Gerry who had a honed frame who was sat on Bob’s right shoulder, with his right foot perched on his left knee clearly not giving a damn. No surprise there, Sully smirked. Knowing that Gerry would be wrapped up in his own thinking process, picking up the clues if any, pegging the acne clad boffin across the table was an intelligence officer or a subject matter expert in something.
Switching back to Bob he had a moment of reflection. Both guys had worked with him before in differing capacities. Bob was the ‘brawn’, he smiled. Having led numerous strike squadrons right up to the front door of the most wanted terrorists in the world, Bob’s teams never used the doorbell, rarely walked out with prisoners, and as he’d noted previously, his eyes still looked as though he didn’t take any.
Gerry was the polar opposite to balance his team out. His quiet unassuming manner brought the brains to any given operation. He was the guy behind the scenes working painstakingly to bring strike options into fruition. Gerry always got the intelligence needed to confirm what needed confirming. Whatever it took and whoever he had to meet, his only two personal demands had ever been to never, ever question his intelligence or ask him where he got it from. Sully nodded his head as he remembered Gerry telling him this the first time they met.
Gerry would know that it was obvious that at least one other person would fill the empty seat opposite him next to the young boffin guy, but he wouldn’t be sure who it would be to brief them. Gerry watched the dictaphone intently, Sully knew his thought process would be flitting between the urge to hit the play button and find out if it was a grid reference, a voice he might recognise before instantly dismissing all notions of doing so as being pure crap and just waiting.
Bob’s slight eye move to the camera earlier indicated to Sully that he’d clocked the red flashing light, it wasn’t covert, it was just flashing innocently and he could tell hewasn’t bothered in the slightest; he just relaxed his body into his chair even more, just like all the times he’d done it before under harsh questioning in a foreign land with a false identity and a false agenda. Calmly and easily does it.
Sully’s eyes flicked back to his youngest attendee – on the far side of the table, obviously still a little twitchy about Bob being sat opposite him, the younger guy rolled back his chair a few metres and reached out with an extended arm, his right hand grabbing the air-con remote controller and quickly adjusted the unit without looking away once from the table. A few beeps later the air-con fans started spinning faster, the loudest the room had been for five minutes. He replaced the controller. ‘I hope that’s fine gentlemen, it was a little humid I thought.’
‘No that’s fine,’ Gerry replied looking at Bob, raising his eyebrows a fraction. Between them they both now knew for sure that he was not a field operative. He had been in this room before. He had felt hot in that chair before. He was in the know, even though the dictaphone had drawn a few vacant looks from him too.
As Sully glimpsed once more at the live footage from his chair he too saw that Alex had compromised his knowledge of the room.
‘Right, enough is enough,’ Sully said to himself decisively, knowing from the increased deadpan faces on both of the other men’s faces and the fact that their breathing had slowed down as if to counteract the excitement of having found out a tidbit of knowledge. ‘This game could go on forever.’ It was time for him to take control. His fingers moved quickly over a few icons on his iPad to deactivate the live feed and quickly deleted the footage forever.
‘Okay let’s do this,’ he whispered to himself.
Taking a last swig of his double whiskey he polished it off in one gulp, savouring the sharp bite on his throat, he stood up straight and tall and gave a succession of coughs to purposely clear his throat. He knew that his next play had to be immaculate. From the moment he’d walk through the door to break the silence, he needed to shake any doubt of his future actions from his mind and focus on his objective. He slammed the empty tumbler down on the solid-oak desk and rose to initiate the proceedings.
He entered the long hallway with its plainly painted grey walls and wooden floorboards. The style was a recurring theme throughout the entire converted warehouse, that was yet in its infancy, still brandishing the freshly painted smell and sawdust in the air. Silent, it had a vacant feel about it, almost sterile.
Whilst not being at the peak of his physical fitness, he still boasted a frame that was still light and agile, showing evidence of former strength and endurance. This was matched by what the common man would assume to be heavily engrained laughter lines. Not laughter lines really. These grooves were etched in place as a result of his irreversible habit of scrunching his eyes; he did it every time his mind processed strategies and outcomes within fractions of a second. Never a person to classify anything as a problem, as a potential problem meant a potential crisis, which made politicians panic, instead everything was viewed as a challenge, an opportunity to win and profile his greatness. His eighties bouffant was proud evidence of this fact with no receding hairline in sight. He’d consciously made a point of never nervously scratching his head whilst noting that when others around him did so, it conveyed an aura of uncertainty about them. Appearing flustered was not on Sully’s radar.
Avoiding the lift, he skipped down the stairs, taking them two at a time as he had done his whole life, always eager to get from point A to point B in the shortest time possible.
Bursting through the doors he entered the holding room. All three heads turned immediately to the left whilst all three men simultaneously rose to the
ir feet courteously the instant the door started to move.
‘Evening gents, far too gracious for me,’ Sully said noting their standing positions as he quickly scanned the room. Bob was working hard to conceal his instant look of amazement on his face; Sully quickly worked his way around the table, after shaking hands like he was on a presidential campaign and acknowledging their whispers of ‘evening boss,’ they all sat back down again. He was happy that his two more experienced operatives didn’t sport a Masonic handshake indicating a crossover to the dark side. He hated those lot; they infected the military and government in his view and he had declined the offer on many occasions, even the ‘Knights Templar’ old boy networks were out, unless they needed something of course.
Standing tall and rubbing his hands together with schoolboy glee he began. ‘Well the intrigue is over, well not quite,’ correcting himself whilst pointing to the dictaphone.‘So I’ve no doubt that thing has caused a few assumptions to arise. I’m surprised you didn’t hit the play button Gerry?’
‘Twenty years ago I would have. In fact it’s been 20 years since I used a dictaphone and a good 10 since I’ve seen one,’ Gerry retorted being completely truthful.
‘Indeed. Well we do have a challenge. In fact it’s a severe challenge and that thing will show us to what extent later.’ His comment was met with complete silence and concentration, all men sensing correctly that the build-up was beginning.
‘That’s why I have you two here,’ acknowledging Gerry and Bob with a nod. ‘Thanks for answering the call, especially you Bob. I hope seeing me again doesn’t evoke feelings of anxiety and terror.’ Bob laughed at the comment, recalling images of past encounters and hoping the dictaphone wasn’t a recording of one of them.
‘Don’t worry there is nothing that incriminates anyone on that recording. But believe me when we’ve finished listening you’ll know where this is all going. Yes. We’re on and I mean we’re on, big time. Something we all thought could never happen but all craved, is here. It’s happening gents.’
Sully fixed his eyes on Alex, the younger gent was still battling with acne, probably due to a severe vitamin D deficiency from being locked inside this building all day. He’d clocked him rolling his eyes back, obviously already privy to the script that was being orated.Not well trained, yet.
‘Excuse me for not dealing with the small chat and asking how you all are, family, kids and what cars you’re driving.’
Bob interjected, ‘It’s all mundane Boss compared to what I think you’re about to unleash on us.’
‘Not really Bob, I was pretty shocked to find out you’re a Fiat 500 driver, living on a barge boat in Upper Avon, with a Jack Russell cross called Harry…’
‘Ha, the Fiat is a mid-life crisis, the barge I’m still trying to work out for myself and you keep my dog out of it.’ Bob’s eyes crinkled at the sides, loving the adrenaline-fuelled banter at the start of any brief.
He caught Gerry surveying them both, he would have already guessed that the groundwork would have been done on them. It was the type of intelligence Gerry could drum up in a matter of minutes out of instinct not curiosity.
‘Tonight I am going to let you know why you are here for starters, then, who the hell we are and what exactly what we’re going to be delivering. That’s “delivering with devastating effect” in the future I might add.’
Another moment to keep tuned in. No one muttered a single word.
‘It is optional, but I didn’t bring in two key people that would turn their noses up at being part of a game changer. Walk if you wish now but don’t expect refunds on your rail tickets.’
Always a trait of Sully’s. Not exactly a caveat, just a small witty comment to terminate a serious proposition. Met with stillness he continued.
‘For the past six months, I have been building up a capability to fight terrorism on our own doorstep, here in the UK. When I was headhunted into this position I was dubious about the intended Modus Operandi (MO). One, because it’s technology driven, and I’ve always said technology is a great servant but a terrible master. I was then briefed about the capability of this potential new asset which is shocking stuff as you will soon hear. Remember, you are my chosen few, my right-hand men, but you will have autonomy as always. It’s only us that will know about the real agenda behind this new “start-up” for want of a better term along with Beast our intelligence guru, who will join us shortly.’
He leaned back on his heels a tad, enjoying commanding his stage after reinforcing that they were the lucky ones. They bloody were.
‘I met Alex a few years back, and that’s Alex over there, if he was too shy to introduce himself before I got here,’ Sully pointed at the man sitting to his left. ‘Yes Alex may look like that square bookworm kid at school everyone bullied but he is the mastermind behind this project’s new capability. Together we have given it a new agenda. One he still struggles with,’ Sully added looking at Alex with a menacing grin, ‘but that’s why we,’ gesturing to Bob and Gerry, ‘are here to deliver it.’
Alex had a small frame, greasy black hair that was entangled around the stems of his thick brown glasses, which looked like the ones he’d had at school, broken from bullying as suggested. His pale pallor which had screamed of a man who’d been confined, at will, behind a desk in a basement for two thirds of his life had backed up Gerry and Bob’s assumptions.As the guys had guessed, he had never been an operator.
Obviously used to Sully’s banterhe barely batted an eyelid, instead he formally nodded to his new colleagues who courteously nodded briefly back before Sully continued.
‘When Alex fully briefed me about this new capability it was lacking direction. My question to him was: how exactly could we implement it within a world full of terror? Alex isn’t a ruthless killer, he and his boffins have never had to think like terrorists to outmanoeuvre them. Whilst we’re on the subject of terrorists Alex, do you remember me telling you about that guy who I deemed to be the only sane functioning psychopath I knew?’
Alex sat up, linked his hands and started darting his eyes in a quick attempt to retrieve the conversation. ‘Is this the guy you said was born to be a terrorist, but chose to bat for the right side?’
‘That’s the guy,’ Sully nodded over at Bob, ‘this is him in the flesh.’
Alex pushed back hard into his chair causing his glasses to wobble slightly. Gingerly realigning them and hoping he hadn’t drawn attention to his nervous jitter, he attempted to stare at Bob with saucepan eyes. It was obvious to all that Alex had never sat opposite a serial killer before. Sully grinned inwardly as he watched Bob mess with the kid’s head and stare unblinking back as if studying his next mark.
‘Silicon Cyber Security Group, that’s who we’re not, but that’s the name above the door outside. This beautifully restored warehouse is it everyone, and I will give you a tour later. When I pitched my demands I knew some would be met, others wouldn’t. I was wrong. I have had no negative kickbacks thus far.’
Gerry and Bob nodded seemingly mildly impressed.
‘Working in a modern world with vast intelligence networks and communities split across the pond, backed up with enough anti-terrorist squads or deniable assets to fill a football stadium, it’s a crowded market. Operational autonomy is critical, yet operational security is always breached and that’s within an organisation that’s supposed to be secret. Agree Gerry?’
‘Yeah, in part for sure. We live in a high-tech world that lends itself to external intrusion from third parties but most disappointingly the compromise is often from within,’ Gerry answered, ‘Christ when you designate a new area of spy HQs for only certain people to have access, everyone knows it’s another feeble attempt to create yet another super cell. People talk, people drink, people listen. I agree there are major flaws especially with some of the 6 fuckers I used to run with,’ said Gerry, smirking, referring to MI6.
‘Spot on,’ Sully agreed. ‘I’m not worried about foreign informants, it’s our own who compromise things and that is why we are in this building, that is why you two have been off the grid for long enough that no one knows or cares about you. No offence of course,’ he winked.‘No questions about “why has Bob has suddenly left our department” or “where has Gerry gone?” You two were perfect, one living on a barge, the other doing the school run whilst the wife is in Canary Wharf funding your early retirement.’
A few grins and smiles confirmed that they had both got the point, no offence taken.
Sully’s train of speech was cut into by Alex.‘Boss,’ sticking his hand up like a schoolkid.
‘You’re not in school now,’ Sully reprimanded, pissed off to be interrupted.‘What?’
‘Can I grab a quick pee?’
Gerry and Bob smirked. Knowing full well now that this geek hadn’t been conditioned to high level briefs. Even though Bob was bursting to go from a gallon of coffee he’d drunk at Costa before he came in, there was no way he was interrupting a briefing session. That was a schoolboy error.
Sully hissed and nodded to which Alex got up and walked out of the room.
*****
Gerry gazed on not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes at Sully’s unexpected break in his speech. Alex must be crucial to whatever was at play today for him to tolerate such a misgiving. Gerry held in a sigh and used the time to study Sully in more detail, the arrogant bugger hadn’t changed a bit, aside from gaining the odd pound of flesh causing him to break into using a new hole on his belt.