Martin was livid. He had assumed that Michael would be
outside with Staples once the hearing had completed. When the airforce guy and
Sam had re-entered the hall without Staples in tow he had started to try to
contrive a way to leave the inquest. He knew it would be an uphill struggle with
the arse of a Coroner in situ. Then the Howells woman had returned, also
without Staples. It was clear that Michael had managed to persuade her to leave
the man with him, probably had spun her a line and taken him away from any of
the others. It seemed that Michael was a far more resourceful person than
Martin had credited him with.
Then there was the bombshell at the end of the inquest: no
Michael, no Staples and no clues. Michael's mobile phone wasn't responding and
the reality of the situation was dawning on Martin very rapidly. He had decided
to invoke his emergency fall back plan.
Martin was as ambitious as anybody within the Secret
Service, and his zealousness was probably one of the reasons he had been
sidelined into the DTRU posting. Like many ambitious men he had failed to see
that his attempts to climb to the top was likely to be viewed as threatening by
many of the people he was striving to impress. He had realised pretty soon that
he would be unlikely to make any major marks in his current role but had
maintained a professional edge to his duties in preparation for when he could
re-enter the mainstream. Michael's research had seemed extremely unlikely to
bear any fruit, and initially he had merely gone through the motions, but as
the Staples guy had begun to look as though he was the real deal Martin had
decided to play a very close game. To declare the findings prematurely ran two
major risks; first the initial results could end up as nonsense, lucky guesses
that happened to fit the model; second, he could find the project handed over
to a senior officer before he had time to gain the glory he needed. Now Staples
had disappeared he needed the resources of the department and that meant he had
to declare the facts he had been suppressing.
Unbeknownst to Martin his subterfuge had been detected
already and had been causing extreme embarrassment to his superiors. The
Station Commander at RAF Fylingdales had discovered that morning at his meeting
with the Station Executives that not only had the spooks lodging on his turf
had 'borrowed' one of his technicians but they had also managed to persuade one
of the more gullible junior officers to arm the man. Seemingly the officer had
taken the view that these people had the blessing of the Station Commander just
because he had allowed them to take up residency on the base. What the officer
did not know was the amount of high level arguments that had taken place
between himself, Whitehall and the spooks. He understood that the agent on the
base had explained that he had good valid reasons for needing to use the base
facilities, but he hadn't believed any of the ones offered. Two tours of
Whitehall had given him sufficient exposure to these people to know one thing
about them; how to tell when they are lying. 'Their lips move,' he had answered
himself.
Once he had found out that the weapon and the airman
bearing it had left the base he contacted the highest authority he had access
to, who in turn had contacted the Secret Service opposite number. By the time
Martin contacted his boss his whole department had spent an hour attempting to
unravel the web he had woven.
'I need some department resources,' said Martin, expecting
the usual vague promises of meagre assistance.
'Certainly,' replied his line manager, 'just as long as you
can give me enough background information to allow me to keep my job. And by
the way, my keeping my job is probably the only chance you have of keeping
yours. Your liberty, though, is another subject altogether, so I suggest you
start talking fast.'
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Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
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