Those Who Play With Fire, Chapter Eleven

Photo: Harland Quarrington/MOD, OGL v1.0OGL v1.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The pressure was mounting, he had his introduction to finish plus the report he would present to the meeting on Wednesday.

Dave decided to begin with the report, using the one from the last meeting as a starting point, he changed it round to take into account the new facts he now had.

Facts I know to be true

Roger Peterson has three identities unknown to S417. He is currently calling himself Stuart Ogilvy, he has passport, driving licence and bank accounts in that name. The other two identities, I know, and are not being used at present.
He sent an email two days after his reported death as Roger Peterson.
His last field of operation was in Hong Kong. He has returned there on almost a monthly basis using his false ID. Please see the attached bank statements and flight details in appendix A & B
Mark James, Home Secretary spent time in Hong Kong working for a merchant bank, although not at the same time as Roger Peterson.
Roger Peterson’s file was accessed by persons unknown, all information relating to his last job has been redacted.
Mark James, being a member of the House of Commons golf club made regular trips within Europe to play in inter parliament tournaments. Bank statements and flight details in appendix C & D.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy also took flights to the same European destinations as Mark James on or around the same dates. Bank Statements and flight details in appendix E & F.
An overlay of flight details for both people is in appendix G
These trips stopped when Mark James was appointed Home Secretary.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy has also made several trips to Africa.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy and Mark James are known to each other, both are or were active homosexuals.
There are a tranche of images showing both of them at a party in situations that would compromise the Home Secretary and possibly the government. These images will be issued and collected again during the meeting. They are not to be removed from the room.
The person who took the photographs is missing.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy has copies of the photographs.
Currently Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy is living in Wandsworth. Exact address unknown.

Facts I assume to be true

Someone in S417 is leaking information. The Home Secretary was aware how far the ‘fake’ bomb plot investigation had progressed and put a stop to it.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy is blackmailing the Home Secretary.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy is working for or on behalf of the Chinese state.
The two additional ID’s Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy has, are to be used if he has to escape in a hurry. At the present time I do not suspect that he is aware his cover is blown.
He has attempted to obtain a fake Chinese passport, I assume, he does not entirely trust his paymaster.

Conjecture

The bomb plot is a hoax, used to find out how much information we know.

Someone will be shot and killed soon, it will be the supposed bomb plotter. The Home Secretary will accept the kudos for the operation and a low-level insignificant terrorist will be dead.

If we discovered the redaction on Roger Peterson’s file, either we would assume it had been done for security reasons, or, we would spend a lot of time trying to work out which other service had done it.
The Chinese have access to S417 and possibly other parts of the department.
The following are only my thoughts based on experience, I have not, at present, any factual information to back this up.
A foreign power has a hold over the Home Secretary, probably blackmail using the photographs and or a video recording. Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy is the go between.
I suspect they want placemen installed at high levels in the Home Office. Government ministers are just passing through, however as we all know high ranking staff are very difficult to dislodge, they have the ability to direct policy in a favourable way towards the country of their allegiance.

Conclusion/Possible Scenarios

The Home Secretary is in a compromised position.
The person leaking information from S417 is probably doing so for financial reasons rather than political.
Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy needs to be found. I suspect that his escape route will eventually take him to Hong Kong where he probably hopes the Chinese will offer him protection. He will be of no use to them, his body, I expect, will be found in the harbour.

Moving Forward

The mole within our organisation needs to be found and investigated to ascertain how much he has compromised S417.
A decision has to be made regarding the Home Secretary, I cannot offer any advice on when this should be done or by whom.
If Roger Peterson/Stuart Ogilvy is not found before action is taken on the Home Secretary, then there will be no hope of finding him.

Sally had come in without Dave hearing, she came upstairs with two coffees, “are you winning?” “Yes, almost done, tomorrow, I need you to read it over, suggesting any corrections, finally type it all up, print it out ready for Wednesday. Do you have any photographic quality printing paper?” “No, we have it in the office, if you had rung me, I would have brought some home.” “I will pop to PC World after this.” He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t checked for the email from the Brigadier. It was there, a list of five other names. All the people were much higher up the chain of command than the Brigadier, three were serving officers, the other two were civilians. He pulled up the photograph from the group shot at the party. He found images of each person on the list and compared them to the photograph. Fortunately, there were no matches. He emailed the Brigadier back to say all the names were clear. As a footnote Dave asked if he could have six copies of his service record available for Wednesday.

Instead of driving, Dave walked to buy the paper he required. On his return, he could smell food, he had missed lunch and was starving. As they were eating, Sally suggested they go for a walk when they were finished, “I want to talk to you, but not in the house. Don’t ask me what it’s about and why.” The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. “Where do you want to go?” “I’m not sure, maybe the park in town.” “Take a jumper with you, it might be cooler later.” In the park, they watched an evening game of bowls before finding a bench to sit on. He looked at Sally, she was staring straight ahead. “I’m not sure where to start or what I want to say, my head is really mixed up, this weekend has upset me, I don’t know why.” “Say whatever it is you are thinking about and we’ll see if it can be sorted.” Feminine logic was not one of Dave’s strong points, and he had no idea what was on Sally’s mind. “Here goes, If Olivia asked you to go to bed with her, and there was no way I would find out, would you do it?” “No, for many reasons, one, I’m with you and I love you, two, she is married and that wouldn’t be right, and three, she is your friend.” “Would you ever hit me, I can’t get Sam’s face out of my mind,” “I’d put you across my knee and smack your bum for asking a question like that. You don’t hit someone you love, no matter how much they have wound you up, you walk away and calm down. I did that on Saturday night, I walked away, rather than face a confrontation.” “Lastly, will you tell me about your past, I only know what you have told me so far, and that’s not very much.” “As soon as this is over, you can ask me anything and I will tell you.” “I tried to see your record today, but I don’t have clearance.” “That’s very naughty, I should report you, but I will think of some other punishment later.” At last Sally laughed. “Any more questions?” “No, let’s go home.” They walked along the road, arm in arm. Later Dave sat on the sofa, Sally lay with her head in his lap, he stroked her face and hair, he felt relaxed and calm, he was ready for Wednesday. Sally had fallen asleep, as he moved, she woke, “sorry I just nodded off, upstairs Dave was first into bed, Sally was cleaning her teeth, “Did you really think I would have it away with Olivia?” “She’s a man eater, Michael has no idea, she is very discrete. You would be another notch on her bedpost.” Lying beside Dave, she said in a low voice, “she doesn’t know what she is missing.”

In the morning, it was all go, Dave picked out the images he wanted printing, his first job was to blank out the faces of those who weren’t relevant, this done, he made seven copies of each one. He saw, as they came out the printer, that the clarity was very good, Sally picked up the group shot picture. “What are you looking at,” “I’m making sure you aren’t in any of them.” They laughed together, she carried on, “I thought they were all the same, but each one is different, that one’s bloody huge.” Dave took the picture from her. “I didn’t print them out for you to debate dick sizes.” “Oh, I thought you did,” She had one more look and then went back to checking the report and presentation. “It all seems fine to me, do you want it printing out?” “Yes, seven copies of each.” By mid-afternoon, the work was complete. Dave kissed Sally and thanked her for what she had done. “Shall we eat out tonight?” “There’s a pub in Quorn that does good food, they have a beer garden if it is still warm, do you want me to book it?” “About 19.00 or 19.30 would be good.” They sat outside in the sunshine before getting ready to go out. Dave wanted to know if Sam had gone to see a solicitor, “yes she did, there is something about an official separation, she was going back today when he was at work to collect all her belongings. It’s sad, but she is too good for him, Peter is a good salesman and earns a lot, but he’s not very mature. Thank you for what you did for Sam on Sunday.”

They chatted happily over the meal, Dave only drank water, although the meeting was in the afternoon, he wanted to have a clear head.

Sally dropped him off at the station on her way to work, she leant over and kissed him, “good luck, I hope it goes well.” There was a train that arrived just after 11.00, with a coffee in the station he would arrive in Whitehall at 11.45, it was long before the meeting started, but he had a plan. As he passed through the barrier, he used one of the ID’s Freddie had made for him. There was no problem, he went straight through the barrier. In the lift, he got out on the Brigadiers floor, he knocked on the outer door and heard the click as the door unlocked, he pushed it open and entered. He approached the secretary behind the desk, “Would you tell the Brigadier Sergeant David Stretton is here.” “Please wait,” he was about to pick up a phone but changed his mind, he walked over to the office Dave had been in last week and knocked. “Would you come this way,” he ushered Dave into the office, “How the Hell did you get in the building, without me knowing, security are meant to call me when you come through the barriers.” “Don’t blame them, I used a different ID.” “Sit down, you are very early for the meeting, why?” I have files which need to be put in ’Top Secret’ folders for this afternoon, I rather hoped one of your secretaries would oblige.” The Brigadier nodded. He opened his briefcase and passed the files over. A buzzer was pressed, within seconds a different secretary had come in. “Put these into ‘Top Secret’ folders and bring them back here.” Turning back to Dave, what’s all this about photographs?” “All in good time, I want to see all the reactions at the same time.” The Brigadier announced he was just about to go for lunch, “that sounds good, I would be delighted to join you.” “You have a bloody cheek, ranks are not allowed in the dining room.” “Today I am wearing a suit, no one will guess.” “Oh, all right on one condition, you tell me about these photographs.” Dave waited until the folders were returned, “come on then, they will put me before a firing squad if you are discovered.” The food was excellent, the Brigadier was good company, as they sat drinking coffee, it was time for him to be told. Dave had leant across the table to tell him, he didn’t want anyone else to hear. There was an amazed expression on the Brigadiers face. “Is this true?” “You will see for yourself at 14.30. Which meeting room are we in?” “I’m not sure, the security guards will tell you.” With the meal over, they split up, Dave was going to the lift. On the ground floor, he asked which meeting room Brigadier Storey had booked, A screen was checked. “Twenty-three on the second floor down, my colleague will escort you.” Outside the room were two more guards, once checked he was permitted access into the room. Looking round there was a table large enough to seat twelve. There was an overhead projector, white board, telephone and a shredder. Along one wall was a table which already had cups and saucers set up. Dave pulled away six of the chairs and put them away from the table, he arranged the remaining ones to give more room for each person. Opening his briefcase, he placed a folder on the table in front of each chair. In his folder he put the packs with the images. The door opened a trolley with two large coffee pots and plates of biscuits was wheeled in. The girl pushing it apologised when she saw Dave, “Sorry sir, I thought the room was empty.” “That’s alright, I’m setting up just now.” After she had gone, he poured himself a coffee and ate a couple of the biscuits.

The first to arrive was the Brigadier, he had the copies of Dave’s service record which were quickly put with the folders on the desk. By 14.25 everyone was present, they were talking amongst themselves, Dave was ignored. At 14.30, he tapped a teaspoon on the side of his cup, “Gentlemen would you all like to sit down.” Once they were all seated, Dave who had remained standing spoke. “I’m not sure how much the Brigadier has told you, I shall start at the beginning, if anyone has questions, feel free to interrupt.” “I have a question, why are we paying you £5000 per week?” “In the last week I have found out more than a department would do in a month. You are paying for my expertise, my knowledge and my ability to think in a different way. If any of you are in doubt, you have a copy of my service record, take a few minutes to go through it.” There was another question. “Why isn’t this being presented by an officer?” This time it was the Brigadier who answered. “I think you will find that Sergeant Stretton is the best person for the job.” Several round the table were skimming through Dave’s record. “Gentlemen, there is a lot to cover this afternoon.” He spoke of how he was recalled to S417 and the meeting with the Home Secretary, “something wasn’t right, I suspected we were being set up for a fall. Yes, someone from S417 might have sold some secrets, it’s happened before, and it will happen again, but trying to hold the government to ransom, they must have known we don’t pay blackmailers. When the Major informed the Home Secretary that we were investigating former employees including those deceased, the job was cancelled before he was back in the office. In my opinion, the whole thing was done to see what we knew, as soon as they found out how close we were, there was an instruction to cease all work.

Of course I carried on, I checked through the dead former staff. Roger Peterson left the service towards the end of 2018, on the 2^nd January 2019, it was reported he had been shot dead in Guangzhou. Two days later he sent an email from Hong Kong. A lot of his record is redacted, something that I have never seen. The Brigadier has given me a free hand to find Roger Peterson, who is now using the alias Stuart Ogilvy. As you will see from the folder in front of you, I have taken him at his word. You may now open the folder, would you please wait until everyone has read it before asking questions.

Dave poured himself another coffee and helped himself to more biscuits. He sat at the top of the table, as if he was in charge of the briefing.

There was the occasional gasp as each person read and digested the contents. Some were flicking backwards and forwards looking at the appendices, others had pulled them out from the folder to make it easier. It was almost thirty minutes before someone asked where the photographs were. Dave asked if everyone had read through the folder, several had left the table to help themselves to more coffee, He noticed, no one else was eating the biscuits.

There was a muted chorus of yesses, he opened his briefcase and removed seven A4 brown envelopes, “there are three copies of photographs in here, the people who are not relevant have had their faces blurred. Please study them carefully.” He walked round the table putting an envelope in front of each person. The images were examined in silence. A bald-headed portly man on his right was the first to speak, “fucking Hell, where did you get these, and more to the point where are they now and who else knows about this?” Point one, how the photographs came into my possession, is not important. Point two, they are located on encrypted drives in various different locations around the world, they are not on any physical computer within the UK. Dave lied, he didn’t want anyone there to think they were on his laptop. Point three, as far as I am aware at least three others, Roger Peterson, the Home Secretary, and one other person who I cannot name, but was present at the party. Other people must be aware of their existence.

There followed a discussion during which Dave took no part, he went round the table collecting the images, he counted them to make sure none were missing then put them through the shredder. The noise caused everyone to look round at him. “Can you come back to the table,” it was the Brigadier, “we want to know how you obtained this information.” “It’s my job,” Dave offered no other explanation. “That’s not good enough, how did you access the bank account of the Home Secretary, Cabinet ministers bank accounts are supposed to be secure?” “Obviously not as secure as they should be. I have software, that gives me access to most banks, I just need to find out their back-end web address.” Someone else wanted to know if it was government issue. “No,” Dave said nothing else, “soldier, you are on very dangerous ground, I order you to tell me where you obtained this software.” “Sir, with all due respect, shouldn’t we be discussing where the leak is in S417 and where we go next to find the mole, plus, what are you going to do about Roger Peterson and Mark James sucking each other’s dicks.” There was silence round the table, the Brigadier was smiling, “Gentlemen, I think we should hear from Sargeant Stretton what he proposes to do.”

“At some time in the future, the Home Secretary will have to be confronted with the evidence I have uncovered, before that happens, I need to track down Roger Peterson, the minute he suspects we are on to him, he will be gone, a different ID and he will be out of the country, probably to China. He will be of no use to them, he will have outlived his usefulness and will be disposed of. That may be the best solution, let the Chinese do our dirty work. On the other hand, it would be of benefit to us to arrest him and find out how much he knows. That would lead to a trial, although it would be held behind closed doors, there would be enough publicity to embarrass the MOD and Government. The third option is elimination, another person killed in London, it might make the local paper, killings in London now hardly raise an eyebrow.” “David, would you leave us, to allow further discussions, we will call you back in soon.” He poured his third coffee and this time, he took a plate of the biscuits, outside the two guards were still there. He offered them biscuits, which they declined. He sat on a sofa opposite the meeting room, there was a low table where he put his coffee and biscuits. He asked where the toilets were, Dave sat there for almost forty-five minutes before he was called back in. He sat where he had been before, The Brigadier had been nominated as the spokesman. “You have one week to locate and apprehend Roger Peterson, if there are any issues, you are authorised to use your discretion.” “Thank you gentlemen.” Dave picked up his briefcase and walked out the room. He felt exhausted, the briefing had worn him out. It was 18.00, he caught a train an hour later, he found the least crowded carriage, he spread himself over the table to make sure no one sat near him. The briefcase was on the seat next to him, on the table was an A4 pad and a couple of pens. There were several calls he had to make, the first was to Trever, “the job is on, can you meet me at The Harvester Restaurant off Junction 23 tomorrow at 12.30, I will brief you then.” The next call was to a number in Birmingham, “Marius?” there was a pause, “David Stretton, you have done some work for me in the past, I need to check if you have something in stock that I can pick up tomorrow.” “Silencer?” “Yes.” “What for?” “I’m in a public place so figure it out, ‘G’, “seventeen or nineteen?” “The first.” There was a long pause before Marius spoke, “I have something that will do the job, it will muffle the sound, £500.” “OK, do you have anywhere I can test it?” Dave was given the address of a derelict warehouse, “16.00 tomorrow, say you are here to see Marius, the man on the gate will let you in.” His last call was to Sally, he said the time the train would arrive, she wanted to know how it had gone. “I’ll tell you later,” was all he said.

When she picked him up, she saw how worn out he was. “You need to go straight to bed,” “I need some food first, stop at a chip shop.”

In the kitchen he ate his pie, chips and curry sauce. Sally ate the occasional chip as she sat waiting for him to finish. The plate was clear, “that was lovely, it filled a gap.” He drunk the coffee in front of him, half way down the cup, he went over the day giving Sally as much information as he thought she needed to know. “There’s more, but you’re not telling me.” “I will when the time is right. Tomorrow, I have to meet someone at lunchtime then go to Birmingham, I will be back in time for dinner. Thank you for everything you have done. I would have struggled without you.”