Over breakfast, there was very little conversation, Dave returned upstairs with a mug of coffee and a packet of biscuits. He fired up the laptop and got to work. He went down the list on his spreadsheet until he got to the first dead agent. Once he was logged in, he pulled up the file. Henry Cramp, died 24th February 2022, cause of death kidney failure, place of death, Brighton. Dave noted down the aliases, on another program, he searched the email addresses listed for each of the names, there was nothing for any of them, he found emails for Henry Cramp which stopped two weeks before his death. As he started on the second name, the front door bell was ringing, he stopped, out the window, he could see a DPD van parked on the street. The package was for him, it was a small jiffy bag, he wasn’t expecting anything, the label had no indication of where it had come from, there was only a PO. Box number. He bent it to try to work out the contents. It took only seconds to rip the bag open, inside was another smaller envelope, written in handwriting he recognised was, ‘You might need this’, he opened it to find an Army MOD-90 identity card. It had an up-to-date picture of him and an expiry date set at the end of next year. He opened his wallet and put it at the back of one of his other cards. Returning to his work upstairs he started on the second name on his list, Roger Peterson, died 2nd January 2019, cause of death gunshot wound, place of death, Guangzhou, China. Dave reread the entry, “what was he doing in China and why was he shot?” He said it out loud as he leaned back on his chair. Another cup of coffee was required before he investigated Roger Peterson. Dave pulled his complete file, he quickly skimmed through it, looking at his picture he vaguely recognised the face. His last job had been in Hong Kong, way out of the normal areas S417 worked in, he had spent two months there, unfortunately what he had been doing had been redacted. There was almost a page of thick black lines before Dave could read any more. Roger Peterson had spent six weeks away from the UK, on his return he spent his final two months in the office not doing much. Dave knew what that was like, he hadn’t done anything interesting for his last three months, it was like being on gardening leave. Access to some classified material was restricted. Roger Peterson had left on the 30th November 2018.
Dave now looked for his aliases, there were three listed in the file. He started with his proper name checking to see what emails had been sent, there were very few, it was the same with two of the other names. The last name was the alias he had used in Hong Kong, he knew this was going to be the one with the most information. Someone had been there before him, every single one was redacted, there was nothing he could gain by looking at censored emails. Dave checked the dates of the emails, they had continued during his last two months. They were being sent from London, there was a break of a week when he left, then they started again, this time the emails were being sent from Hong Kong. He checked each one for the IP address from where it had been sent from, two had been sent from Guangzhou, just before his death. The final one was sent from Hong Kong two days after his death. He went back to the file and checked the date of death again and then the date on the email, sure enough the final email was sent two days after the death was reported. Either the Chinese recorded the incorrect date or Roger Peterson had risen from the dead.
Dave stretched out to get another biscuit, the packet was empty, he could hear movement downstairs, it was after 16.00. In his bedroom, he took out the rucksack from the back of the wardrobe, he needed to make a call that couldn’t be traced back to him and wanted one of the second-hand phones he had bought. Putting in a ‘Pay As You Go’ sim, he left it on charge and went downstairs. “God, you look awful, your eyes are all red, have you been staring at that laptop all day?” Dave nodded, “You need to take a break, have you had anything to eat?” Sally was fussing round him, she was different to the person he had sat opposite this morning. “I have to go to a meeting tomorrow, I’m not sure what time yet, I may not be back for dinner.” “Do you want anything now or will you wait?” “I’ll wait, I have to make a call, I’m not sure how long it will last.” He drunk another coffee before retrieving the phone and going into the garden, he walked to the bottom, hopefully out of earshot of anyone else. “Major, David Stretton, I need to see you,” the Major wanted to know if there was a problem, “everything is fine, I have found something that I need to discuss with you, I don’t want to come to Whitehall, I need to see you on your own, somewhere secure.” “Are you in danger?” “No, I don’t think we are dealing with a madman it is more complex than that. Tell no one about tomorrow, not even the Home Secretary.” “I will send you a message later with where and when.” Sally was in the kitchen, the radio was on and she was singing along. “I need to ask you a question?” She turned towards Dave, “Can I trust you?” Sally dried her hands on a tea towel and sat down at the table. “When I married, I left the MOD as my husband didn’t like all the secretness, he wanted to be able to talk about things we had done during the day, you know we can’t do that. I always had to be evasive when friends asked what I did at work. We lived in London for a time before he moved here to work for one of the large engineering companies. We bought this house when we sold our London flat, there was only a small mortgage on it. Eighteen months later, he was late for a flight from Heathrow to fly to the US on business. He was going too fast and on his phone, he couldn’t pull up in time when he realised the traffic in front of him had stopped. He hit the back of a lorry at 80mph.” tears were rolling down her face, she wiped them with the tea towel. “I left the MOD because of him. Living here is quiet, I missed London and the service, the marriage was beginning to falter, there were arguments, we both realised that it wasn’t going to last. I had made some tentative contacts with the MOD with a view to returning. The crash put paid to that. After the funeral, I was in a trance for around six months, I was on autopilot. The friends I had made here rallied round and pulled me out of the bad place I was in. I thought that if I returned to London I would have to start all over again. Loughborough is now my home, I like it here and I have settled into a more relaxed way of life. Financially, I don’t have to worry. My friends have tried to fix me up with a partner, but none of the men have been all that interesting. My last lodger was a student who left last summer. I wasn’t going to have another, but the house felt empty, I advertised and you came knocking. I knew instantly there was something different about you, I didn’t know what but it made me decide to offer you the room. The phone call in February from Major Cullen shook me, he wanted me to spy on you and report anything I thought might interest him. I decided I wouldn’t tell him anything. As I told you the other night, he asked if we were in a relationship. The few nights we have spent together have made me feel like a woman again. I could go on, but yes you can trust me, I have no loyalty to Major Cullen or the MOD, I wouldn’t tell anyone about anything you do. If anyone asks about you, I tell them you are an Uber driver. Dave thanked her for being open and honest, he had never asked about her husband, there were no photographs of the two of them together anywhere in the house. In the space of a few minutes, she had laid her past in front of him.
His phone pinged with a message, it was a time and location for the meeting tomorrow. It wasn’t until 15.00 in a dining club just off Pall Mall. The time suited him, he had another job he wanted to do afterwards.
That evening Sally having cooked their meal served it up in the kitchen. She had opened a bottle of wine and had drunk two glasses by the time they sat down. Dave poured out a glass for himself and topped up Sally’s. After the meal and coffee, she had another drink, this time it was gin and tonic. He wondered if she was trying to get drunk. “I meant what I said earlier about you and me being in bed,” he understood why she had been drinking, something was going to be said and she needed some Dutch courage. “I want you to stop being a lodger and move into my room.” She looked across at him, “Say something, don’t just sit there.” Sally got up from the sofa and sat on his lap, she kissed him passionately before taking him by the hand and going upstairs.
In the morning, they lay in bed together, neither of them wanting to get up. It was 10.00, Dave knew he would have to be up and start getting ready soon. “I have to be in London for 15.00, I should get up now,” Sally pulled him back as he moved to get out of bed, “five more minutes then.” He showered in the en suite before going into the other bathroom to shave, the next time Sally saw him, he was wearing a suit, shirt and tie. “It must be an important meeting, I’ve never seen you dressed so smartly.” He was careful as he ate breakfast, he only had one white shirt and he didn’t want to spill anything on it. Upstairs in his room, he took out the rucksack, he was in two minds, should he go armed or leave the gun here. He tried on the shoulder holster and adjusted it to fit. Sally knocked and came into the room, she saw Dave and froze, “holy fuck, do you have a gun?” He nodded, “It came at the same time as the computer.” “Are you taking it with you today?” “No, I don’t think I need it, I just wanted to try it for size. I need to make sure it is concealed with my suit jacket on.” He took the Glock out and pushed it into the holster, his jacket covered it well. The suit was made slightly larger to accommodate the holster. “Put it away, I don’t want to see it.” He placed everything back in the wardrobe, he put the phone he had used last night into his pocket, his normal phone he put in his briefcase. Sally wanted to know how dangerous the job he was working on was. “It’s mostly administrative, I don’t think there will be any action, the gun is standard issue.” He lied easily and convincingly, he knew that there was a good chance that he would have to use his talents before the job was over.
© 10210ken 2024
