Legacy. Jeff Edwards
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Green’s personal future is entirely up to herself.’
‘How much priority do we give this matter?’ asked Thorpe.
‘It’s of the utmost importance. However, security is essential. I would suggest a very small task force be applied to the matter. No more than four people to begin with. We don’t want to draw any attention to what we’re up to. Other overseas agencies may try to beat us to the prize.’
‘Funding?’
‘The Prime Minister has set aside a special fund under one of the government’s overseas aid programs, so that will be our cover. Where do you want to start?’
‘Initially we’ll need to confirm that the tapes actually exist. Green always said they didn’t. They may never have existed. It’s also possible she may have destroyed them, but I’ve always believed that they did exist and she’s been hiding them all this time.
‘The first thing I need to do is find the right operatives for the job.’
‘I’ll leave it all up you.’
Settling down to study the roster of agents available to him, Thorpe noted that Sam Tait and Bree Lake had recently returned from an assignment in Iraq. They had been working undercover posing as reporters, but in actual fact following the movement of arms heading across the border from Turkey to the Kurds in the north.
Not that the movement of arms was upsetting the present government. The Kurds were assisting the Western Alliance after all. It was just good policy to know what your ‘friends’ were up to.
Both operatives were on leave, but due to return soon.
Thorpe sent messages for them to come back immediately. He believed too much time off tended to dull their instincts. Besides, this would be a nice change for them. No foreign languages to work their way around.
In the meantime, he had an assistant accumulate whatever information the government had on Jade Green and the people in her immediate circle of friends.
Thorpe wondered if Green had mellowed over the years. His recollections of their previous meetings still rankled with him.
Sam Tait received the call to report to headquarters as he was finishing the ‘slaughter’ of a defenceless target on a private pistol range not far from his home. He preferred to practice here as a member of the pistol club rather than on the official range at headquarters because the club members owned a well maintained variety of weapons. Here he could use his charm to borrow them from time to time, unlike the officially designated guns assigned to agents that were barely maintained to an operational level by the gunsmiths.
On the club’s firing range he could try his hand at everything from an elegant lady’s purse sized .22 to the Dirty Harry .358 Magnum. He had fired larger guns but couldn’t see the point in becoming proficient with them. Sam didn’t consider it necessary to use a pistol to bring down something as big as an elephant. Elephants were what a rifle was designed to kill and he was extremely proficient with a wide variety of those as well.
Tait checked the target which had a decidedly unhappy look about it. Most of its abdomen was now a ragged hole. He was pleased with his efforts and smiled as he removed the empty magazine and made his weapon safe.
Just as he was doing so his mobile phone chimed and he read the text message, swearing softly to himself. He was getting used to not checking over his shoulder every five seconds, and now they wanted him back at work.
Having served as a captain in the regular army, his ‘retirement’ from the forces seemed to allow him much time to himself. In reality he had been seconded from the army to Inland Security, mainly for his ability in languages and his presence of mind in difficult situations. Sam soon discovered Inland Security did a lot of work that was definitely not located ‘inland’.
After cleaning and oiling his pistol, he secured it inside a steel locker located within the armory of the clubhouse before walking to the parking area where he squeezed his large frame behind the wheel of a 1960s MG roadster and headed toward the headquarters of Inland Security.
Bree Lake, on the other hand, was enjoying far more exotic pleasures when the call reached her. She was luxuriating up to her neck in rancid mud and enjoying its slimy feel upon her naked body.
An attendant picked up her phone when it sounded and held the screen in front of her face to allow her to read the message.
‘Bugger!’
She sat up, placed her hands on either side of the ooze-filled bath and pulled herself to her feet.
Stepping out, she moved to a raised, slatted, wooden stand where she showered the mess off, the mud sliding between the slats and down a drain.
‘Probably going back to the pigsty where it’s come from,’ she thought with a wry smile. ‘And I had been so looking forward to being massaged with pebbles.’
She retired to the bathroom where a very hot shower and lots of soap removed the last of the mud, which she found hidden in some very unexpected places.
A thirty minute drive brought her to headquarters, where reception directed her to Thorpe’s office.
Using her security pass, she took the lift to the top floor and found Sam Tait had arrived just ahead of her.
Even in high heels, Bree reached only to Sam’s shoulder, but years of martial arts had toned her body to peak performance and her hands were as hard as any labourer’s.
They exchanged a casual greeting and sat together, awaiting the call to enter.
‘You smell of gun oil and cordite,’ she said.
He sniffed the air.
‘Don’t even try to go there,’ she warned.
Just then, they were ushered into the office by an aide, who directed them to seats and departed.
Thorpe smiled at the agents as he entered from his private bathroom.
‘Sorry to bring you back from leave early, but we have a matter of vital importance.’ Both agents were sure he couldn’t have cared less about interrupting their leave.
Over the next half-hour he briefed them on Jade Green and the missing videos, what their job was to be, and what to do when the videos were finally located.
‘This will be a need to know operation. You will not tell anyone else at Inland Security what you are searching for. In fact, you will not be operating from this building.
‘You’ll report directly to me, but will be acting entirely on your own. A business has been set up as your cover and you’ll live and work from those business premises.’
‘We won’t be able to live at home?’ asked Bree.
‘The PM wants this matter to be given your full and undivided attention, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’
‘So, what is our cover story?’ asked Sam.
Thorpe passed them each a business card for the Save the Country Fund, bearing their names as directors of the fund. The address was close to London University in an area where many worthwhile causes such as Greenpeace and Save the Whales, could also be found.
‘Congratulations, you two have now become the proud co-founders of the latest ecological foundation. It’s been set up in your names, with funding supplied by the government.’