“And Barry Mitchinson, Ma’am, what should I do there?” the new Director of Special Operations asked.
“Oh, you can leave him to me,” his boss said with menace in her voice.
***
Barry Mitchinson was sitting in the apartment watching Countdown on Channel 4, thinking to himself, ‘So it’s all come down to this; watching daytime TV,” when the phone rang. It was Maureen Lassiter.
“Barry, Five have just cleared a compromise agreement with Gillian Davis. The Home Secretary has signed off on a deal where Doug gets stiffed for the murder and she is ticked off for being an unwitting accomplice. Barry, the chatter on the third floor and in the restaurant is that you’re the one who’s getting the blame. You’re going to be the scapegoat. Everyone is saying that the authorities have had to back off because she has evidence that MI5 tried to kill her. They are also saying that it was you who gave that order.”
Barry’s response would not have been capable of being broadcast until well after the watershed.
“Get me a copy of the agreement,” he added, still seething. “I want to see what that bitch says and I want to be prepared if I’m to be called in front of the old hag again, which seems inevitable now.” Barry paused midstream. “Maureen, we may need to do a runner, and quick.” He looked at his watch. It was too late now to start calling banks.
“Maureen my love, tomorrow we’ll transfer the funds to the Caymans and make sure our passports are up to date. I don’t trust the old Dame to honour her part of the deal. If she’ll dump on the Met, she’ll dump on me double quick.”
They said their goodbyes, and Maureen set about finding a copy of the agreement, one without the redacted elements, if possible. There was nothing on the server, at least nothing that she could access with level three clearance, and so she tried to think laterally. After a few aborted attempts to access the cache files stored on the server, waiting to be scrubbed - deleted by overwriting with ones and zeros twenty one times - she gave up on that. Suddenly she had an idea. It was risky, but it was the only way.
Maureen Lassiter had covered for Vanessa in the Legal Section many times; the woman was a sick leave aficionado. Vanessa worked only part time and so her workstation was empty by this time of day. Maureen booted up Vanessa’s desktop computer and hoped that the part timer hadn’t changed the password since last month. She needn’t have worried. After a few key strokes the computer welcomed Vanessa Adamson to the server.
Maureen guessed that at sometime during the day the Legal Section head would have been copied in on the agreement, and so she used his PA’s access to his Outlook account. The bosses in this place were supposed to be security conscious, but they allowed their PAs to arrange their appointments and deal with their meeting invitations. This gave the PAs access to their bosses email.
Maureen found what she wanted and forwarded the email to her own desktop before deleting her email from the ‘sent’ box. She was just clearing up when a voice called her name.
“Maureen, what are you doing here?” The head of Legal Services was smiling down at her. He had just returned from one of his interminable meetings and was carrying a file under his arm.
“I was wondering, Maureen. Now that your Director is no longer with us, well, maybe you could transfer into here. Vanessa is a waste of space. Things are always done more efficiently when you stand in for her. In fact, I wouldn’t mind betting that you are remedying another of her faux pas as we speak.”
“Vanessa managed to lock herself out of the timesheet system, but I’ve put her back on. Please don’t tell her I told you,” Maureen pleaded.
“I won’t, but give my suggestion some thought, won’t you? There could be a hike in pay grade if you transfer over.”
“Jeremy, I’d love to work for you, if you think you could swing it,” Maureen simpered.
“I think I can arrange it,” Jeremy replied, with a knowing wink that suggested he knew more about her carnal predilections than he ought to have known.
Chapter 61
Courtyard Marriott Hotel, Lynchburg, Virginia, Thursday 9:30pm.
Steve Post, Dee, Pete and DS Scott sat in the restaurant waiting for their food, although no-one had any real appetite. DCI Coombs had been on the phone to Scotland Yard for almost an hour and they were now emailing him the agreement, or affidavit. Coombes would have had no idea how to access the attachment or how to print it, and so the young lady in the business centre was seconded into helping him. Her name was Melody and she was as pretty as the name sounded.
“What I don’t understand,” DS Scott puzzled over, “is why we had to go through that charade today. Why deny everything and wreck our case if she was just going to admit her involvement anyway?”
Dee answered after a quick glance in the direction of the FBI man.
“Paul, she has played us all. The woman is always several steps ahead of the game. She wanted to cooperate so that she could show you, and the Americans, that we had no chance of making a case for extradition, let alone conviction. My guess is that if she had made the admission without first destroying the case, the Metropolitan Police would have decided to take their chances and drag her back to the UK anyway. By rubbishing the case against her she was saying, look, I could walk away from this free and clear, but I want to do the decent thing.”
“Magnanimous in victory?” Paul Scott asked.
“Yes.” Dee was about to continue when a red faced DCI Coombes came over to the table and flung down three copies of the affidavit.
The affidavit was couched in legalese and had been redacted, but it was clear enough. Dee and Pete shared a copy and read through it quickly.
Affidavit
Sworn this 28th day of January in the year 2011.
Before:
Martin K Sherman, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the USA.
I, Gillian Davis, do swear and affirm, under oath, and in the presence of a notary and of witnesses simple, that my statement is a full and honest account, including no fabrications or misdirection and excluding no pertinent facts. I attest that the following words represent my full and complete testimony on the below stated matter:
Statement of:
Gillian Davis, formerly of 311 Covingham Buildings, Partington Road, London. United Kingdom.
I acknowledge and understand that any statement I give may be used as evidence before any court, tribunal or other hearing, howsoever constituted, relating to the deaths in the United Kingdom of Mr Samuel Etundi and Mrs Victoria Hokobu.
The said Gillian Davis will say as follows:
Following the termination of my employment by the UK Government on 23rd July 2007, in the Special Operations Section of Military Intelligence often referred to as MI5, I was approached by Mr Douglas McKeown, also a former operative with the aforesaid agency. Mr McKeown was operating as a sole trader offering outsourced security assistance to various wealthy individuals, companies and to his former employers. His identity was kept secret and his clients knew him only as the Chameleon.
Mr Mc Keown had always been a good friend to me and had acted as my mentor when I first entered the service. I trusted him implicitly and, on reflection, I now see that I looked to him as the Father I had never known. Our relationship was affectionate but not sexual.
Until the arrival of the Hokobus all of the Chameleon’s assignments had been overseas, clear cut and morally defensible, otherwise I would have dissolved the partnership immediately. Typical assignments included the removal of terrorist suspects, Somali Pirates and the protection of major political figures. I recall that on each occasion where he took an assignment that had geo political implications, he required that the agency requesting the Chameleon’s services first clear the assignment with the Chameleon’s main customer, one Mr Barry Mitchinson at the aforementioned agency. As far as I am aware if Mr Barry Mitchinson recommended that we should not proceed we refused the assignment. The Chameleon was a hired gun but his alter ego, Doug, was patriotic. He was not interested in acting against his country or his country’s interests.