The Keepers of the Persian Gate (14 page)

“What happened here?” asked Paddy.

“Oh, some fella seems to have been thrown out of the attic window last night,” replied the journalist.

“Jesus. How do we know he was thrown?” asked Paddy.

“Broken glass all over the show,” replied the journalist.

Sure enough, the pavement was completely littered with glass. It was then that Paddy spotted Mark, off to one side having a smoke.

“Mark, what the hell?” said Paddy.

“Oh, here, Paddy, I’m glad I spotted you, c’mon round the back. Most of us have been using a different entrance this morning,” explained Mark.

“Do you know much about what went on?” asked Paddy.

As they walked into the main foyer, Major Howard was storming back into reception with his team in tow.

“Worst bloody day of my life!” shouted the Major.

Paddy walked over to Major Howard, who was now sifting through papers on the countertop of the reception desk. “Major. Do you think this is connected to the break-in to my apartment?” asked Paddy.

“Break-in, what break-in?” replied the Major.

“I sent you an e-mail,” said Paddy.

“That’s funny. I never received a thing. I checked my e-mails first thing this morning,” said Major Howard.

“I was broken into last night, I live on the second floor. Only a few doors up from here,” replied Paddy.

Next thing, the police walked into reception. The Major blustered over to the door and stopped them in their tracks. “Get out! You know full well that only MI5 is allowed in here. The rest of you, get out! There are matters of national security at stake in this premises which you are not authorised to be in the presence of.”

“Is that right?” said Paddy.

“Yes, because we hold so many secrets, we have a special security designation by the Cabinet Office. Any police investigations must be carried out by MI5,” explained Mark.

“If any of you have a problem with that, I can put you through to the Home Secretary who might be able to explain it a bit better for you,” shouted Major Howard. He stomped back over to Paddy. “Right, we need to get as much information off you as possible before MI5 arrives.”

***

In the client meeting rooms on the second floor, Major Howard and Mark began to debrief Paddy.

“This is not the only strange incident to occur. Several other members of staff noticed a suspicious man lurking around High Holborn last night. A few complained that he was following them,” explained Major Howard.

“Exactly the same thing happened to me last night, around Lincoln’s Inn Fields, close to 1900 hours,” said Paddy.

“I bet it’s the fucking Russians, up to no good again…” said Mark.

“This all seems too contrived to be the Russians. They would never be this obvious. It’s almost like there has been deliberate intimidation tactics going on,” said Major Howard

“But what of the man lying in the forensic tent outside the building? Where does he fit into all of this?” asked Mark.

“We don’t know who he is. Haven’t been able to get a look at him yet, and no name has been released. Did you get a look at the man who you think was following you, Paddy?” enquired Major Howard.

“Yes. He looked like a Middle Eastern man, but he spoke with a perfect London accent. He was wearing a green overcoat,” said Paddy.

“Ok, I’m going to very quickly show you several people’s photographs and I want you to tell me if you recognise any of them,” said Major Howard. He lifted out an envelope and went through each photograph with Paddy.

“No… No… No… No… No…” said Paddy.

Major Howard quickly put the pictures back in the envelope and tucked them safely away in his pocket. Dunlop & McLaine devoted significant resources to monitoring known security threats. The five individuals in the photographs that Major Howard had shown to Paddy included former disgruntled security service staff, a known cyber hacker, and one man who, as far as they could ascertain, was just a garden variety weirdo who had an unhealthy obsession with Dunlop & McLaine.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more assistance. But I’m sure MI5 will be able to narrow down the investigation,” replied Paddy.

“The problem is knowing who to trust, Paddy. Did anyone in your building see or hear anything?” asked Major Howard.

“No, I’m afraid not,” said Paddy.

“I am wondering whether we should keep the information about your break-in from the police for the moment,” said Major Howard.

“What would that achieve?” asked Paddy.

“It would mean we could conduct our own private investigation in the background. I can run a few prints and have them checked by some people to see what comes up,” said Major Howard.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea, Major. We just don’t know what’s at stake,” replied Mark.

“The problem is, Paddy, if I didn’t get your e-mail, and you are sure you sent it, then that means I can only come to one conclusion,” said Major Howard.

“And what’s that?” asked Paddy.

“Somebody accessed my e-mails and deleted your e-mail to me,” replied Major Howard.

“But why would somebody do that?” asked Paddy.

“I don’t know. But it causes me great concern,” replied the Major.

There was a knock at the door and Samantha, Mark’s secretary, walked in. She gestured to Major Howard to leave the room with her. However, Major Howard was having none of it.

“What is it, Samantha, can’t you see we have a bit of a situation on our hands?” asked Major Howard.

“Major Howard, Will’s on the line.” said Samantha.

“Can you put it through to this office, please?” replied Major Howard. He put the phone on loudspeaker. “Will, where are you now?”

“Major Howard, I have been advised by MI5 that it’s simply too dangerous for me to come to the office. Therefore, I won’t be in today. We need to get to the bottom of what’s going on. I need a full brief as soon as you can. I will speak to you in the morning,” said Will.

Just then, Samantha returned with a handwritten note for Major Howard. The note read: ‘Tell Paddy to meet me at Reading train station in two hours, tell him to bring his papers and memory stick, regards Will.’

“Will realised that line might not be secure. He sent the following note from his home in Farnham by undercover courier several hours ago. Paddy, you are to go to Reading ASAP,” said Major Howard, passing him the note.

“What’s going on? What papers is he talking about, Paddy?” asked Mark.

“We were invited to bid to the ISC to carry out their legal services, including all the specialist tranches that go with it. Will gave me the documents yesterday; I was quite surprised to receive them,” explained Paddy.

“I didn’t know about this. Will’s obviously kept that one very close to his chest,” said Mark.

“Ok, Paddy. There’s a good chance this building’s being watched. Major Howard, isn’t it correct that we have access from this building to the Royal Mail’s underground railway?” asked Mark.

“Yes, one of the service tunnels runs from the basement in this building,” replied Major Howard.

“If we can get you into that tunnel, you can take it to Liverpool Street, and avoid being followed.”

“I could get a taxi from there to Reading,” suggested Paddy.

“Exactly, no one would expect it,” replied Mark.

“There’s only one problem. The door to the service tunnel was bricked up many years ago,” explained Major Howard.

The trio went downstairs to have a look in the basement. Surrounded by several boilers was a bricked up doorway. Paddy looked around the room as Major Howard and Mark debated the best way to remove the bricks. Being a storage room, there were plenty of bits and bobs lying about the place. Paddy laid eyes on a sledgehammer that was hiding over in the corner.

“Stand aside, gents,” stated Paddy. Major Howard and Mark moved out of the way as Paddy slammed the sledgehammer against the brick wall. One brick immediately fell off revealing a dark passageway. Paddy hit the wall several more times before making a hole big enough to climb through. By this stage, Major Howard had produced a set of plans of the foundations of the building and began explaining where Paddy should go.

There was a three-hundred-foot spiral staircase which led down to the underground from the basement. Once Paddy reached that, he could expect to find an open archway to the tunnel, which was allegedly lit. It was suggested that Paddy should go to the Liverpool Street sorting office. In order to do that, he would need to follow the tunnel east for approximately one mile.

“It says here that the mail trains come through here every five minutes in each direction. They slow to a speed of seven miles per hour when entering service tunnels. Your best bet is to jump on top of an easterly train and hold on tight. Oh here, I almost forgot, here’s your watch; Mark asked me to repair it. Bad luck for a man not to have a watch,” said Major Howard.

Mark passed Paddy a torch and, grabbing the map from Major Howard, Paddy began to journey into the darkness. The old service tunnel had an exceptionally eerie feel to it. The environment became noticeably damp and the air smelt very stale. It wasn’t long before he could hear the echoes of trains moving on the lines. The carriages on the trains of the London Post Office Railway were about three foot wide and four foot tall. The main problem for Paddy would be that once they left the service tunnels, they then accelerated to their standard speed of forty miles per hour in the main tunnels.

As Paddy drew closer to the service tunnel he saw what looked like an archway. Then there was some dim light ahead. Hearing a train, he ran towards the light. However, he tripped and as his face smashed against the ground, he dropped his torch and had to scramble for it. When he finally entered the tunnel, he waited patiently for about five minutes and, sure enough, another train appeared in an eastward direction. It slowed to a snail’s pace as it came through the tunnel. With a sharp intake of breath, Paddy mounted the train and gripped on to one of the small carriages with a leg on either side.

The train moved back into the pitch darkness. As it did, Paddy reached for his torch and switched it back on to see in front of him. The tunnel seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as the train began to speed up. Paddy shone the torch further ahead to make sure he wasn’t about to get his head taken off by something. After a few minutes of pitch black it was a relief to see some light at the end of the tunnel. It looked like it could be Liverpool Street station. As the train moved into the station it slowed to a halt.

“‘Old on a minute, what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” yelled one of the postal staff, spotting Paddy.

“Terribly sorry, old chap. On official business,” said Paddy as he pushed him out of the way and ran up the stairs.

The Liverpool Street sorting office led straight into the main guts of the Liverpool Street Station. It was a busy place and it was easy to get lost in the sea of people that moved around the area. Paddy walked out the front door fully conscious of his surroundings, and hailed a black taxi which appeared almost immediately.

“Where to, gov’nar?” said the taxi driver.

“Reading Railway Station, please.”

“Reading Railway Station, you know you could just take the train from here.”

“Yes, I know. But I want to go in a taxi, is that a problem?” said Paddy sternly.

“No, not at all, you’re the boss, mate,” replied the driver. The taxi sped off through Central London. It followed the Thames to the Houses of Parliament and Westminster. It then turned onto the Mall towards Buckingham Palace, past Hyde Park on the right, eventually exiting London onto the M4 all the way to Reading. It was a long enough journey, about seventy-five minutes in total. All the while, Paddy stared out the window in silence, contemplating the events of the last two days.

Chapter 9

Actus Reus

WHEN THE TAXI ENTERED READING, it encountered heavy traffic, so Paddy tapped the driver on the shoulder. “That’ll do me here, mate. What’s the damage?” asked Paddy.

“Oh, about £170 will do, I reckon,” replied the cabbie.

“I’ll give you £250, one condition,” said Paddy.

“What’s that?” asked the cabbie.

“You were never in Reading today,” replied Paddy.

“Done mate, no trouble.”

“Cheers, all the best.”

Paddy rushed across the town, past the old courts to the train station. When he got down to the departures hall, he looked all around for Will, but there was no sign of the man. After waiting several minutes, he was starting to wonder how well Will had thought this through. Then a homeless man approached Paddy. “Here mate, have you got any change?”

“No, sorry,” replied Paddy.

“That’s alright. Your boss does.”

“Who?” asked Paddy.

“The man sitting over there in the coffee shop. On the balcony.”

There was Will, smiling, sitting at a table. Paddy approached him.

“Well, Paddy, sit down. Sorry for the theatrics, but things have suddenly got quite serious,” said Will.

“So I see,” replied Paddy.

“Do you have the memory stick I gave you?” asked Will.

“Yes, I’ve brought it, what’s this about?” asked Paddy.

“We can’t talk here. Follow me,” replied Will.

Will led Paddy down to a quiet section of the station where there was a row of old unused shop units. Will pulled out a key and went inside the first unit. It was an MOD safe house which the firm had been authorised to use in recent months. The firm would routinely be advised to use a safe house to receive intelligence briefings from MI5 in situations where it was suspected that security may have been compromised. Once Paddy was inside, he began to quiz Will.

“Who do you think threw that man out the window at Dunlop & McLaine?” asked Paddy.

“He wasn’t thrown, he was shot,” said Will.

“How do you know that?” asked Paddy.

“Because I shot him,” replied Will.

Paddy looked at Will in astonishment. By imparting this information, Will had just upped the stakes substantially. Paddy had a choice to make at that moment: turn Will in to the authorities or help him. He was now potentially aiding and abetting a murderer. After all, in English law there was no defence of duress or necessity in murder as was the case with most other crimes. On the contrary, the courts considered crimes such as rape and murder so heinous that they were not permitted such a defence.