Everything to Lose Page 13

  "Like what? The wicked witch!"

  "My sister. My big sister looked after me for a while."

  Her jaw dropped and she felt insulted. She looked disappointed and thought I'm sitting here in my sexy PJ's looking gorgeous, hot even. Trying to pull you out of the abyss and your thinking about your sister.

  He stared at her fingers wrapped around her coffee mug and a very distinctive ring. It could be a wedding band. He couldn't remember which finger wears the wedding band.

  "That's a really exquisite ring."

  "You like it?" she held her hand up to rotate.

  "Very unusual. Is it a wedding band?"

  "I was married once. It didn't work out. I now have the perfect alternative."

  "It's not a wedding band then."

  "I had my wedding band melted down and converted into a charm for my bracelet."

  "Let me guess. Is it a dagger or a handgun? I know I'll bet it's a hand grenade."

  "Actually it's just a little fat pig."

  They laughed together then Zoe told Shawlens that her brother Michael was a bespoke jeweller who made high quality one-off pieces of expensive jewellery. Her rings were personal creations for her by her brother.

  "Your brother is very talented," he said and she saw him looking at the fine detail on the ring.

  Suddenly her features sharpened with a serious look.

  "Let me get one thing crystal clear Shawlens. My rings are intensely personal. Under no circumstances are you ever to touch my rings. Never, not once, never. Do you understand me clearly on this point?"

  He nodded agreement and wondered what he had done to annoy her.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," he said and looked offended.

  She hurt his feelings. He wouldn't ever touch her jewellery, valuable, bespoke or not and didn't see the need for an over-the-top warning. For a moment he thought about warning her not to touch any of his textbooks but decided against. Instead he picked up a newspaper and stared at it. She could see he wasn't reading it.

  "So what do you do for fun Shawlens?"

  "What?"

  "Fun you know. Outside of work," she teased.

  "I don't have time for fun."

  "Aww that's a crying shame."

  "How do you cope with the Service?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Relationships in the Security Service are a bind with vetting and all that stuff," he said as he dropped the newspaper.

  "That's true but I'm not a prude. I pay a top class escort agency in London for a man for the night. I get a chance to dress up and be treated like a princess."

  "A male escort. Are you serious?"

  "He takes me out for dinner, we have some wine. He pays then we go back to his five star hotel room and I jump the Jolly Roger until I'm exhausted. Next morning when I wake-up, if the Jolly Roger is flying again, I'll have another quality session. I usually tip the guy fifty quid. Then we have a lovely breakfast. Job done."

  "How often can you afford that?"

  "It's not cheap. Only twice a month. I wish it could be more like once a week. Maybe when I get promoted to Head of Section."

  "No commitment, no love, just intense satisfaction."

  "I think it was Shirley Bassey that sang 'I don't need love, for what good will love do me?' but I do need to keep my body and my mind in tip top condition."

  "And you don't have to tell the escorts anything about you or your job, quite neat."

  "Exactly. One-nighters don't need to be vetted. So then Shawlens what get's your sperm into the breach?"

  "So these escort guys. Are they just empty suits?"

  "God no, these guys read broadsheets and investment pages. Dinner and breakfast conversations are always first class. I've learned a few smart things over the years and good investment advice. I've had some pretty good debates with them."

  "I meant sex-wise. How do you get aroused if these guys don't really fancy you?"

  She sucked in air and let it out slowly through her nose. She was determined not to reply with something that would upset him. She reined her thoughts back.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Men get aroused quickly that's why men can use prostitutes but few women use male prostitutes because arousal is slower."

  "Straight to the nuts and bolts Shawlens. These guys are professional lovers skilled in arousal. I have no complaints."

  "You don't feel the need for the settled intimacy of monogamy?"

  "Been there, done that, moved on, next question."

  "Lots of women these days are choosing to avoid the marital cave."

  "Modern women don't need the support of a caveman to raise children."

  "Not sure that's the reason," he said and his expression showed he was thinking hard.

  "Well oh great and clever scientist. Tell me then. Why are more women choosing not to stay in the marital cave?"

  "I have no idea. Men yearn to spread their seed far and wide. Women yearn for a great orgasm and many times the caveman can't deliver."

  "Ha! Ha! Ha! Shawlens, you're very funny."

  "Is it not true that many married women often find more satisfaction in the shower room than in the bedroom?"

  "Look Shawlens. It's true, female arousal is more complicated. Let's leave it at that."

  "I think it's a simple process."

  "It's a simple process for shallow males that's why porn is big business."

  "Tell me why women dress up in sexy clothes and fabulous hair styles."

  "Women make themselves attractive to please themselves Shawlens. Not to snare a man."

  "Yes but isn't that pleasure part of their arousal?"

  "You're not making sense Shawlens. But it's a scientist thing so don't worry."

  "Men and women become aroused when they inflame arousal in another person. Men show you've aroused them by calling, whistling and ogling. Does that not give you a good feeling, an arousal?"

  "Rubbish. I hate wolf whistles. I slap men who ogle. I dress to make me feel good not to make men feel good."

  "If I asked you out on a date. You'd get dressed up, perfumed up, hair done and feel aroused. If your appearance and perfume aroused me. I'd pay attention, talk sexy, touch warmly, to reinforce your arousal until …"

  "Forget it Shawlens I'd rather read a book," she said in a tone that meant end of.

  "Isn't that how it works for you with your male escorts?"

  "Shut it."

  Zoe shook her head from side to side as she got up and walked to her room. Emma she thought what on Earth did you see in him.

  24

  Langley, Virginia, USA

  Director Bill Maverack stepped smartly out of the elevator onto his floor at the George Bush Centre for Intelligence and headed toward his office. With a black laptop briefcase pannier slung over his shoulder, thick newspaper in one hand and cinnamon latte to go in the other hand, he marched forward.

  The silence struck him and he almost stopped when he noticed the floor of the NCS was not the usual hive of busy bees and excited chatter. He thought that some incident must be unfolding and everyone was getting the story in the large briefing room probably from CNN.

  He stopped to look-in on his secretary and pick up messages. She wasn't there to shield him from the steady stream of people needing a quick word with the Director. He noted her desk wasn't cluttered with documents, mail and all the usual paperwork.

  Anxiety surged when he saw the door to his office slightly ajar. Panic grabbed his mind when he saw someone in his room, sitting at his desk. He pushed the door and saw Katherine M Kaplentsky, Director CIA, sitting in his chair.

  It was a bright sunny morning. She was looking out though the large glass window behind his desk, past the parking areas, past the Turkey Run Park and Potomac River, to the rolling emerald evergreen forests beyond.

  "Katherine."

  "Bill, come in. Close the door," Katherine said as she swung round in his chair to face him.

  "God you gave
me quite a start. Where are all my people?" he said and opened his arm toward the door behind him.

  "Bill, Bill, Bill. What were you damn well thinking?" she said slowly, her expression disappointed as she gestured him to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

  "Katherine, I'm not giving up on this. POINT-K is a longstanding military operation running in Britain and I'm not in the loop. I must know what it's about. I need to make sure it does not cross-over critical ops I have in play there," he said as he placed his latte on his desk and dropped his briefcase and newspaper at his feet.

  "I've told you. You don't need to know."

  "It's not negotiable Katherine, sorry and all that. I'm taking a solid stand here and I know the other Directors will back me. If you don't get on board with this Katherine ... I think your position is going to crumble. Who knows what will happen," he said and she heard a threat in his voice.

  "Really, Bill. I thought you understood what makes a smart director in this business. Don't you remember the bit about not forcing your head into the lion's mouth?"

  Bill got up from his chair and stood at the end of his desk to look down at her. He slapped his hand on his desk with frustration.

  "For goodness sake Katherine. General Schumantle is using CIA assets for personal clandestine operations and sidestepping my office. It's probably illegal. It's unacceptable Katherine. It's downright dangerous. When this blows open, it could end your career but I refuse to allow it to end my career."

  "You've stepped over the line Bill. Worse than that. You put four good staff members at risk," Katherine said and her tone deepened markedly.

  "Katherine. Please. Just give Hopper a bit more time. The target Shawlens is apparently on some kind of operation ..."

  "ENOUGH. I don't want to hear any more. Hopkine is in the infirmary recovering from an overdose of propofol."

  "What? Who-the-hell took him out?"

  For the first time in his quest to expose POINT-K Bill Maverack felt threatened. His actions may have rebounded wrongly. His left hand rushed to grasp his forehead as if to make sure it wouldn't explode.

  "If Hopkine had overturned Dovecoat then they both would have come home in bodybags. Thank God Dovecoat was smart enough to stick to POINT-K protocols."

  "Why are we doing this to ourselves Katherine? I just can't …"

  "God above. You still don't get it, do you? POINT-K, supersedes, overrules, cut's over, pulls rank over all domestic and international operations BAR NONE."

  "I have the same clearance as you have. Why can't you tell me what POINT-K is and who is involved."

  "Look at it this way. There are secrets we know about and there are secrets we don't know about. It is our business to find out about those. There are a few secrets that we don't know about and it's better for us that we don't even know that we don't know about them."

  "You mean this is above my security clearance?"

  "Bill we operate in a society that is incapable of keeping secrets. Politicians think leaking secrets is a game to play. Service personnel and agents can be turned, blackmailed or develop a conscience. We knew this situation more than sixty years ago and despite our best security efforts and intensive vetting we have WikiLeaks, Snowden and God knows what next."

  "Do you, at least, know what POINT-K is?" he asked as he crept back and sat on the edge of his seat.

  "Truthfully Bill and this is the REAL truth. I don't know. What I do know is there are some secrets beyond a security clearance. A handful of secrets that absolutely must remain concealed and the only way to guarantee that one hundred per cent is to keep them contained in one office, confined to one secure person," she said while leaning forward on his desk.

  "General Schumantle."

  "Yes. If the need ever arises for action then the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs will let the secret out of its box and we will all do whatever is required of us. Until then it doesn't exist outside of his office."

  "Dovecoat exists."

  "Dovecoat exists for POINT-K but not for us."

  "I was never going to find out what it is."

  "I warned you to leave well alone. Now you and four NCS staff know more about POINT-K than anyone should."

  Bill Maverack sighed, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his heads in his hands. His cherished career was crumbling like a tall building during an earthquake.

  "What do I have to do to get my people back to first base?" he pleaded.

  "Your staff will be redacted. It has only been a week or two for them, so they'll have a splitting headache for a few days. They'll be back at work within two weeks, none the wiser."

  "I appreciate that Katherine. Thanks."

  "POINT-K has been bugging you for some time so you need deeper redaction and an office move. Your staff are being told right now that you've had a nervous breakdown. Not unusual in this job. You will be off work for at least eight weeks. When you return it will be into the Office of Public Affairs. You'll get the employee communications desk. That's the best I can do. I hope that turns out alright for you."

  "Let's get on with it. For God's sake get this stuff out of my head," he said and threw his hands up in the air.

  Katherine buzzed through to the outside office. Two men came in and took Bill Maverack to the CIA's private hospital for memory redaction. A process of memory wiping developed in the early 1960's using a combination of neurotransmitter chemicals and electrical treatment to disrupt recent synaptic memories.

  The procedure wipes recent memories of up to four months and leaves the patient with no more than a temporary blinding headache. Maverack would be redacted more deeply to wipe his memory on POINT-K.

  Like everyone else the neurons in Maverack's brain create memories by joining together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle to form a memory pattern that is stored. When Maverack retrieves a memory his neurons re-create the pattern and his memory is perceived.

  The redaction processor would use sound and vision to make him recall all memory relating to POINT-K then chemicals and electrical treatment would disrupt his retrieval process. After treatment his neuron associations would still be there but unable to recreate the correct patterns. The POINT-K memories would be redacted.

  In fact redaction has been used many times over the decades on civilians and military personnel who worked for short periods on development, construction or operation of POINT-K projects. It ensured that these projects remained secret after the personnel had completed their work.

  25

  Research lab K416

  It was late in the afternoon as Gavin Shawlens put the finishing touches to the PowerPoint presentation he had prepared for his seminar. He looked outside and saw it was dull blustery but dry. He guessed most people would prefer to be on their way home rather than attending his seminar.

  Zoe Tampin shuffled her reagent bottles around the white laminate laboratory bench when she saw Tyler Wattsin walk into the room. He headed straight for Gavin's desk. Zoe stepped over and blocked his path for a second and as he rounded her she scanned his body language and decided he wasn't a threat so she let him go. He didn't see her left hand glide up toward the back of his neck, ready to grab his hair.

  He didn't see her right hand because it was behind her back. It had an automatic pipette with a sharp yellow tip on the end that she could have stabbed into his carotid artery if he was a threat. She went back to her bench and re-positioned rows of test tubes in and out of two test-tube racks. She didn't know what kind of assassin Barscadden might send to try and kill Gavin Shawlens but she was sure it wasn't Tyler Wattsin.

  Tyler sat down at Gavin's desk and said he wanted to discuss a project. Gavin had told Tyler before that without laboratory experience he couldn't do any practical work. Tyler suggested Christine would do the laboratory work for him. Gavin laughed in his face and told him he would win the Lottery jackpot before that would happen.

  Tyler told Gavin that he had spoken to Oliver Mansole. He said Oliver was staying with his aunt and that i
f Gavin offered a project then he would take Gavin to Oliver's aunt. Gavin agreed but offered Tyler a theoretical 'dry' project about steroid production and abuse. They talked about Tyler's new project until Gavin gathered his notes for his seminar. Gavin and Tyler stood up from his desk together and walked toward Christine. Gavin walked behind Tyler and waved his hand rapidly under his nose to waft Tyler's body odour away from his nose.

  "Christine this is Tyler Wattsin. Tyler will be doing a project on steroid production."

  "Steroids," Zoe cut in to mean I can't do that.

  "Not a wet project. I meant a library based project," Gavin said to reassure her.

  "I understand. Okay Tyler good to have you on board," she said with relief.

  Gavin ushered Tyler forward as they walked towards the door. Tyler had agreed to show Gavin the way to the Sir James Chadwick lecture theatre.

  "Christine I'm off to do the research seminar. I'll see you later," Gavin called from the opposite end of the lab.

  "Dr Shawlens how long will you be exactly? I think these proteins are almost cooked."

  "Good, just keep them incubating in the water bath until I get back. I would like you to make up some more of the phosphate buffer solutions we talked about earlier," he said for Tyler's benefit.

  Gavin and Zoe had discussed what she could do to look the part of a lab technician. He had set-up a bench to look busy with lots of stock bottles of chemicals, lots of large glass beakers, various glass storage bottles he had labelled as phosphate buffers and glass measuring cylinders.

  A couple of beakers half-full with water were stirring away on magnetic stirrers. Zoe liked to turn the magnetic stirrers up full to make a deep vortex form in the liquid and he kept turning them down to normal speed.

  To look convincing when other researchers or technicians were nosing around the lab; Zoe measured out volumes of liquid in glass cylinders, stirred the liquids in beakers and then poured the liquids into glass storage bottles.

  Zoe asked Gavin for coloured chemicals so she could make green, blue, yellow, and orange solutions for her beakers and reagent bottles. She was disappointed when he told her ninety-six percent of lab reagents were colourless. He did give her some copper sulphate to make one blue coloured reagent bottle. She thought he was being petty. After initial hesitance she looked very confident and rather good at it. No one knew that all the bottles contained tap water with unmeasured amounts of table salt and sugar for effect.