Motorbike Men

by Duncan James

  Marsden unlocked his safe, and took out an envelope.

  “This is your written brief,” he said. “I’ve been through it, and it’s OK, if a little short on detail. But I can fill in the gaps. I suggest we meet people this morning, so they know what you look like at least, and I can brief you on current operations later. We have a small Ops. Room down the corridor. Guys running an op. will move in there, so that they’re all together and don’t start tripping over one another.”

  “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to meeting the team. I’m looking forward to seeing my office, too! I’ve hardly set foot in it, yet.”

  “It’s bigger and better than this, but not much of a view from anywhere in this building. Still, we are in Clerkenwell and not Mayfair!”

  There was a knock on the door, and a petite, fair-haired girl looked in.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said. “I thought you might both be in with Mr. Jarvis!”

  “Got kicked out,” said Marsden. “Bill, let me introduce you to Barbara, your P.A. and the most important person in your life here – apart from me, of course.”

  They shook hands, and the girl smiled warmly.

  “What a welcome!” she said. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you myself, but I got sent out on an errand. I have a little office between this one and yours. Let me know when you’re ready for a chat.”

  “Or a coffee,” said Marsden. “Barbara makes very good coffee.”

  “I suppose that’s a hint,” she said. “I’ve got the machine on already, so it won’t be long. I’ll bring it in.”

  “That girl,” said Commander Marsden seriously, “may only have ‘PA to S’ on her door, but as you will soon find, she is quite an important lady. She doesn’t just run your office, she actually does things on her own initiative if she thinks it will save you or me a bit of time. She fixes meetings, makes sure the notes are properly encrypted and makes it her business to keep up to speed with everything that’s going on. Probably including a few things we don’t know about, because we don’t need to know for the time being.”

  “Does she work for you, too?”

  “Only informally and as long as you don’t object. But you and I have to work closely together, so it makes sense. You come first, though.”

  “I know about her background,” said Bill.

  “Do you, now?” said Nick in astonishment. “Doesn’t take you long, does it?”

  “It was important for me to know about the people I might be working with before I decided to take this on,” said Bill. “So I did a bit of homework.”

  “Like everyone else in S.11, she was specially selected, and has a very high security clearance,” said Nick.

  Barbara reappeared with steaming mugs of coffee.

  “I hope you don’t mind a mug,” she said. “I’ve got posh cups for visitors.”

  Somehow, the girl reminded him of Catherine, when they had first met in the office in Northern Ireland.

  “Bring yours in, if you’re having one,” invited Bill. “The three of us can chat, then. You’re part of my handover, after all.”

  “I can if you like,” she replied. “Mr Jarvis has gone.”

  “Gone!” exclaimed Nick.

  “So far as I can see, he’s cleared his desk, and left the safe door open, so the office is yours when you want it, Colonel.”

  “I’d rather meet people first,” replied Bill. “And please only call me Colonel on the most formal of occasions; otherwise, Bill is fine, for you and everyone else here.”

  “I’ll pass the word. Mr Jarvis said he’d drop in tomorrow sometime, to see if you had any problems.”

  “Sounds to me as if you’re in charge then, Bill,” said Marsden. “That didn’t take long! Congratulations!”

  ***

  CHAPTER SIX - MOVING TIMES

  In spite of everything else that was going on, Professor Jack Barclay had suddenly become concerned about his twin brother, Roger. He had no idea why. In the past, he had rarely given the man a passing thought, they had become so distant, but now he felt unusually uneasy about the fellow. Professor Barclay didn’t often ring his brother. Come to that, his brother didn’t often ring him, either, but they had resolved to keep in closer touch than they used, so Jack decided to ring Roger. He had a feeling that he should, the way identical twins do, sometimes, appear to have a sixth sense. And in any case, he wanted to tell Roger about his own future, which had recently become even more hectic than usual, and showed little sign of becoming any easier. He felt he needed to talk to someone, perhaps to relieve the unbearable stress he was suffering.

  They contacted one another so rarely that he even had to look up his brother’s phone number.

  Although Jack knew that Roger should be home from work by now, his brother took some time to answer the phone.

  “Roger? Hello, it’s Jack.”

  “Good heavens, fancy hearing from you after all this time.”

  “I know it’s been a long time, but I’ve been simply rushed off my feet lately. Sorry about that.”

  “I’ve tried to get you a couple of times in the past month or so, but never seem to get an answer. In fact, I began to wonder if you’d changed your phone number, or moved or something.”

  “No. Still in the same old digs, although I spend little time there now, I’m so busy. I seem to be working all hours and travelling a lot. In fact, I feel quite exhausted. But how are you?”

  “Well, since you ask, not really very good at the moment.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m OK really I suppose, physically. I’m not under the doctor or anything. It’s work, that’s all.”

  “Don’t tell me about work! I’ve got more than I can shake a stick at, at the moment. So what’s the problem with your job? I thought you were quite happy at the bank.”

  “That’s the problem. I am – or was. They want me to move.”

  “After all this time?”

  “After all this time. It seems they have to make some savings, so my job is being merged with someone else’s.”

  “That’s bad news. What happens to you after this merger?”

  “They said I would be ‘let go’, which is a nice way of saying I would be sacked. Or they offered me a job in another branch, doing much the same thing.”

  “What’s wrong with that then? Take it.”

  “What’s wrong, is that I don’t want to move, that’s what. You know me – a proper stick-in-the-mud. I’m quite happy with where I am, doing what I’m doing, and I don’t want to move. I simply hate change. It would mean meeting new people, which I don’t like, getting used to a new routine and all that.”

  “I know you may not like it, but you really should take the new job. It would save you all the trouble of looking for one, if there’s one on offer.”

  “I know you’re right, and I suppose it would be the sensible thing to do. But I would have to move home as well, as if taking on a new job isn’t bad enough. I couldn’t commute from here to the new place.”

  “Where is the new place?”

  “At their Sloane Square branch, in London. I don’t like London much, and I’d never be able to afford to live there. The more I think about it, the more I think I shall have to tell them to ‘let me go’, as they put it.”

  “Well, this is extraordinary,” Roger. “You’ll not believe this, but I had a feeling I should ring you for some reason, but really had no idea why. Now I know.”

  “Why’s that then?”

  “Because I can help, that’s why. If you’ll let me.”

  “You’re not going to offer me a job, are you, because you know I don’t understand the first thing about science or whatever it is you do all day?”

  “No, no. I can’t offer you a job. But I can offer you accommodation so that you can take the job the bank has offered you. I’ve been thinking of selling my flat in London because I never use it now, so you can have that.”

  “I could never afford to buy anythi
ng in London. I’m only a bank clerk, after all.”

  “But I’m not suggesting you buy it. If I don’t sell it after all, you can live there.”

  “I’d never afford the rent on my wages.”

  “Now listen to me,” scolded Jack. “My flat is in Battersea, almost walking distance from Sloane Square. And if you don’t fancy the walk, I’m sure there’s a bus of some sort – No.319 I think. You can have the flat rent free, too, if that helps.”

  “I really don’t want charity of any sort, even from you, although it’s very kind of you to offer. But I simply couldn’t afford to live there, however ideal it may sound,” replied Roger.

  “You manage to rent a place at the moment, don’t you?” enquired Jack. “Where you are now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then if you’ll feel better about it, just pay me what you pay now if you want to pay something. The bills will be about the same, and I’ll pay the maintenance charge, as the flat will still be mine. How about it?”

  “I hardly know what to say.”

  “Think about it, then. How long have you got, before you need to decide about the job?”

  “A month, all but a day or so. They only told me a couple of days ago.”

  “Well, there you are then,” said Jack. “I’ll put a key in the post to you, and you can go and look at the place before you decide. Just let me know. But if you want my advice, I’d take the job the bank has offered you, as it’s much the same as you’re doing now, and live in my flat. I’ll clear all my stuff out, such as it is, although there’s not much there, as I’ve hardly used the place since I bought it. It’s only small, but should be just right for you. And Sloane Square is a very posh part of London – you could almost regard the job as promotion.”

  “I hardly know what to say,” said Roger again. “Except ‘thank you’. I’ll have a look at the flat when I get the key, and let you know. Thank you.”

  “No problem at all,” replied the Professor. “I had a funny feeling I should get in touch with you.”

  “So did I,” replied Roger. “Funny, that.”

  ***

  Bill Clayton had been in his new job as ‘S’ for almost three weeks, when he was summoned to a meeting with the Cabinet Secretary, his boss.

  Barbara had taken the call, and fixed the time and day with Robin Algar’s P.A., Isabelle Paton. She established that Bill would not need any special briefing for the meeting.

  “I’ve no idea what it’s about,” she told Bill, “and I got the impression from my opposite number in the Cabinet Office that Isabelle didn’t have much idea either.”

  “I know Sir Robin quite well, so perhaps it’s just a social chat.”

  “Probably just wants to know how you’re getting on.”

  As it happened, Bill was getting on quite well. Everyone he had met had been very friendly and helpful – with the exception of his predecessor - and for their part, all the people in Section 11 seemed very pleased to have Bill as their new commander. It was only a very small organisation, at least so far as the Headquarters was concerned, so it hadn’t taken Bill long to get to know them all, and to get up to speed with everything that was going on. Working with Nick Marsden again was a real joy, and they had already been able to make a few changes to the way things had been done previously, thanks largely to Bill’s extensive network of what he called, ‘useful contacts’.

  Bill’s P.A., Barbara, was proving to be the gem that Nick said she was. On their first morning together, he had told her that, so far as he was concerned, how she ran her part of the organisation was entirely up to her.

  “Just make sure my diary is kept up to date, that I have the right papers for the right meeting, and that you get me to the right place at the right time, and we’ll get on like a house on fire,” he had said. “And don’t hesitate to tell me if you think things are going wrong, or could be done better.”

  “Leave that to me, then,” she had replied. “I keep my ear close to the ground here and around the place generally, so I usually know what’s going on. I’ll tell you if there’s anything you need to know.”

  “And do help Commander Marsden as best you can,” he asked. “I know I have first call on your time, but Nick and I work so closely together that it makes sense to have you helping us both.”

  “I’ll certainly do that,” she replied. “I know that one of you is always on duty or on call, and I really don’t mind staying late or coming in early if it helps.”

  “Good of you, but you have your own life to lead.”

  Bill paused.

  “How is Donald, by the way?”

  Barbara sat silent for a moment.

  “You know about Donald?” she almost whispered.

  “Yes, I do. It’s not that I’ve been prying, but I’m paid to know what’s going on, that’s all.”

  Barbara was silent again, collecting her thoughts.

  “Nobody else here knows about Donald,” she said quietly.

  “I shan’t say a word, I promise.”

  “I love my little boy dearly,” she said, almost tearfully. “My Mother, bless her, looks after him wonderfully well, and he adores her, but whatever time of the day or night I get home, Donald and I always have a little cuddle and a chat. He insists on it, even if it’s the early hours of the morning. He gets very cross if he discovers I haven’t woken him for a hug.”

  “He’s four now, isn’t he?”

  “You know everything.”

  “It’s my job,” replied Bill. “Just make sure my job doesn’t get in the way of your relationship with your son, that’s all.”

  Barbara nodded. “Thank you for that.”

  “It’s probably already occurred to you,” said Bill, “that Donald puts you into a very vulnerable position. You’re in a top secret post, working for a top secret organisation. If anyone really wanted to know anything about us or what we are doing, it might be only too easy to blackmail you, through Donald.”

  “By kidnapping him, you mean?”

  “Something like that,” replied Bill.

  The girl nodded. “That’s why nobody here knows about him. I keep him very much to myself.”

  “Good,” said Bill. “If ever we get involved in anything which I judge could put you at risk, I shall make sure the Section keeps an eye on Donald, the way it would on anyone else we are asked to protect.”

  Barbara got up, crossed behind the desk, kissed Bill lightly on the forehead, and left.

  Bill had always liked children, although he had never had any of his own. He even used to mend toys, for an orphanage, when he was in Northern Ireland. When he got home that evening, he told Catherine.

  ***

  Although there was no agenda for his meeting in the Cabinet Office, Barbara nevertheless presented him with a folder containing a brief up-date on all their present operations, a note about the Section’s financial situation, and summaries of the two most recent papers from SIS about the current terrorist threat.

  “Just in case,” she said.

  At the last minute, Isabelle rang to ask if Commander Marsden was possibly free to accompany ‘S’.

  He was, so did.

  “Sounds to me,” said Nick, “as if we are to be briefed about a new piece of action coming our way. Could be important, too, with both of us going.”

  “Makes sense anyway, since you’re in charge of Ops.,” said Bill.

  “The man probably doesn’t trust you to get it right when you pass it on, as you’re new!” joked Nick.

  Since they had no staff car, they decided to share one of the BMW motorbikes from the garage under their offices. They arrived in Whitehall, looking like a couple of couriers, and chained the bike to railings, in spite of two duty policemen, who ran towards them. They backed off, and promised to keep a close eye on it, when they saw their I.D. cards. Once inside, Isabelle ushered them into the Cabinet Secretary’s office, and immediately brought in a tray of tea.

  “Good to see you both again,” Ro
bin Algar greeted them, shaking hands. “There’s no agenda, but I see Barbara has nevertheless provided you with a brief. I knew she would – she once worked here you know. Excellent girl!”

  Bill agreed. “She looks after both of us very well.”

  “I really wanted to know how you were getting on, Bill, since I moved you in such a rush, but I have a new task to tell you about later, which is why I asked Nick to come along as well. So how are things?”

  “Going well, thanks,” replied Bill. “I’m sure I shall like my time there once I’ve settled in properly.”

  “He’s being modest,” chipped in Nick. “He settled in remarkably quickly, and is getting on well with everyone already.”

  “I’m keen to know about your handover,” said Algar. “How was that?”

  “I must admit I’ve had better,” replied Clayton, “although the written brief was adequate enough I suppose.”

  “But…..?”

  “I’ll tell you ‘but’, Sir Robin,” said Nick, chipping in. “Friend Jarvis more or less kicked Bill out of his office in five minutes, and left me to do all the briefing. Jarvis himself disappeared about an hour after Bill arrived in the place.”

  “Good grief.”

  “I would have been a bit lost without Nick, I must admit, in spite of my useful chat with P.J. before I left Cyprus,” said Clayton. “It was good job Nick and I knew one another, although even that seemed to rankle with Jarvis.”

  “I was rather afraid something like that would happen,” said the Cabinet Secretary. “My interview with your predecessor, when I told him he was being moved, was most unpleasant.”

  “He has a chip on his shoulder the size of Everest,” said Marsden.

  “It’s a pity he took it so badly,” said Algar. “He did a good job at first, but seemed to be loosing his touch towards the end, which is why we looked for him to be replaced.”

  “Couldn’t have picked a better chap, in my view,” volunteered Marsden. “Bill has been warmly welcomed by everyone in the Section, and is like a breath of fresh air about the place.”

  “If I may say so,” said Clayton, “Alan Jarvis’s attitude worries me a bit. It could be dangerous for the ex-Head of a top secret organisation to be wandering about with a grudge, even within SIS.”