Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 1

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.
 

Just Another Saturday?
 
David Jones was an unassuming and private person, self employed as an accountant with a small office in Islington, north London.

One of his customers was at first appearances just the owner of an ubiquitous kebab take-away on Green Lanes, a Turkish area of North London. The businessman, Hamiz Fourani was actually an Iranian by birth and had remained in London after finishing a masters in Business Administration. He'd purchased several properties and had a successful property portfolio. He wasn't too fussy who he leased houses, shops or apartments to so long as they paid their rent. This was his shortcoming, and often became David's problem.

***

David was planning to put in some overtime on a Saturday morning to finish off Hamiz's annual returns and anything else he could achieve in a few hours. His office hours never included Saturday morning so no-one would have expected to find him there.

Unfortunately, someone else was taking an interest in the Iranian's finances and had decided that 7am on a Saturday morning was a good time to get a close look at his files. David arrived there at 0730 with a plastic coffee and a bacon roll and, being short of hands, had kicked the ground floor door shut behind him before trying to head up the stairs.

He was knocked off his feet as two dark clothed males pushed past him, there being no other way down. His coffee didn't survive and the bacon roll was unappetizing when David recovered from the assault. He hurried upstairs to see what their intent had been.

His office door was splintered where it had been pried and two of his filing cabinets had similarly suffered the crowbar treatment, with warped and scratched metal where the drawers were forced open. His office computer was switched on but wasn't logged in and the contents of the waste-basket were strewn across the floor.

"What were they looking for?" He wondered then his eyes potted a post-it note on the desk with one word - Fourani.

David sat down and wondered what to do next, he really should get hold of Hamiz but knew he wasn't due to fly back into the country until the following evening, which originally prompted David today.

If the raiders had been looking for documents, or computer data, then they would have been disappointed. David had already handed back all of the original documents having scanned everything so any data was now purely digital. That data hadn't even been in the office, it was on a portable drive he always took home. He not only didn't store client data on the office computer, it didn't even have an internet connection.

David evaluated his position, apart from cosmetic damage he hadn't lost anything. If he reported this break-in to the police would they really be interested? Regardless, he'd have to wait there all day with little likelihood that they would investigate a simple break-in.

Was it worth informing his insurance company? They would insist on a police crime reference number so that was a pointless exercise. He phoned a locksmith and asked for some better locks to be fitted, plus one of the filing cabinet drawers wouldn't open, and that's where his kettle was stored. He would need to inform Hamiz on Monday, if only to reassure him that his secrets were safe.

If he had been a little more observant then he might have seen the two men who watched from a van as the locksmith arrived, then as David went out to get a replacement breakfast roll.

Thankfully, the locksmith had recovered his kettle from the stuck drawer as the first priority so that was pressed into use. Remembering the spilt coffee, David went downstairs and cleaned up the mess. Checking the rear door to the building he saw that a small pane of glass had been broken, plainly this was the point of entry.

Back upstairs, the asked the locksmith to secure the rear door with a better lock and then phoned a carpenter to fix the damaged doors. Finally, David sat at the office computer and loaded Hamiz's accounts from the portable drive. Most of the morning had gone, wasted, but he was now able to go back to something that had troubled him the previous evening - where was the money going?

David had calculated that around £170,000 of expenditure on the rental properties was spurious in this financial year alone. There were job sheets and invoices, but the paper trail was at best confusing and at worst completely false. He really needed to speak to Hamiz before he could sign off the accounts.

By 4pm he was too tired to work on anything more. David had surrendered on the Hamiz accounts around two and had done a little bit of work for smaller clients. The locksmith and carpenter had long gone. Just to be certain, he checked the building, concentrating on the ground floor.

David now owned the building, after having originally rented just the upstairs office space. There was an empty shop, just a counter and some shelves, below his office and a couple of store rooms in the back. At least that's how it was when the previous owner had died.

David had been offered the building by the deceased landlord's solicitor and bought it straight away. Since then he had refurbished the ground floor, not that anyone apart from the carpenter would have known!

The ground level shop and stores had now been converted into a bedsit with plenty of hanging space, a dressing table and the best bathroom he could fit in the space available. David normally spent weekday evenings at his flat in Hackney, not far from the Olympic Park, but his alter ego Gail stayed in the bedsit when she fancied partying.

He locked up then took the bus back to his flat but, as he got off the bus, could sense something was wrong. There was the smell of burning in the air and the sound of sirens filled the streets. He got closer and saw it was his flat that was ablaze. He edged closer but a policeman barred his way.

"Sorry sir, that's close enough."

"It's my home."

"Ah, just wait there please." The Constable quickly spoke to a senior officer who asked David to sit with him in a police car.

"Mr Jones?" David nodded. "We had accounted for everyone else from the building so I was anxious to find you. Where have you been today?"

"I was putting some extra hours in at my office, trying to get some work finished."

"What is your work?"

"Accountancy, nothing exciting."

"I see. Did anyone else have access to your flat?"

"No, why?"

"The fire service found an unidentified middle-eastern looking gentleman in your flat, you wouldn't know anything about that?"

"No. Can I collect any of my belongings?"

"Sorry Mr Jones, but it's now a murder inquiry as well as a suspicious fire. Do you have somewhere to stay and could I have a mobile number?"

David handed him a business card, "I'll be at my office."

Back in Islington, David went to the rear of the property and let himself in through the back door, then into his hidden bedsit. Something was very very wrong. He took a microwave meal out of the small freezer and zapped himself a very unsatisfying dinner.

 
Phone calls
 
Sunday morning, sometime before 7am. Gail peeled off her nightie and headed into the shower. She made a coffee and put a small TV onto breakfast news whilst blow-drying her hair. She shut off the hairdryer when pictures of David's flat came on the screen. The caption said "Body identified as Hamed Fourani, Iranian."

David had met Hamiz's brother once and hadn't liked him. What was he doing, dead, in David's flat?

David was clearly in danger but had grudgingly decided that it was safer to disappear as Gail, in disguise.

Gail finished getting dressed, and opted for a white blouse with a long navy skirt and a leather jacket. She packed a holdall with enough for a few days and just after 8am checked all the locks before letting herself out the back way. She hailed a cab when she was a couple of streets away. "Liverpool Street please"

Just over 15 minutes later she was on the concourse at London Liverpool Street surveying the departures board. The station serves the whole of East Anglia and several hundred miles of coastline. Her choice this morning was to disappear into the madness that is Clacton-on-Sea in mid-summer. She bought a newspaper and then a return ticket, paying cash. She figured that a single ticket to the coast might be remembered by the woman behind the glass screen, where as she was just trying to appear to be another day-tripper.

Gail checked she had her debit card in her purse. Many years earlier, before the banking laws had tightened up, she'd opened an account as Gail Jones and had put £10,000 in it; even accountants occasionally hid their own money. That account was unconnected to any of David's personal or business accounts.

Although David had to appear to be a responsible businessman, he was incredibly insecure. It was through the Gail persona, initially at college and subsequently in his professional life, that he found a counter-balance to his humdrum life. Gail was known to visit the best clubs and keep dancing until almost dawn, always refusing offers of a ride home. One advantage of the office/bedsit location was that London buses ran 24 hours past the front door, she could get back to the bedsit from just about any club in London in the wee hours.

***

As soon as the train reached its' final destination, literally the end of the line, she grabbed her holdall and made for the door. Once on the platform she looked quickly up & down to check no-one was on her tail, but saw only a few dozen complete strangers, each with their own issues.

She walked out of the gate, and was surprised at the lack of ticket gates or even staff. This was supposed to be a busy seaside resort and not the back-end of nowhere. She headed into the centre of Clacton-on-Sea looking for a B&B

To any casual observers, Gail was nothing spectacular, just an ordinary 30-something with a ditzy head. Nothing could be further, however, from the truth and Gail was just happy that most would get completely the wrong impression, as it might end up saving her life.

***

She walked purposefully from Clacton-on-Sea station and went looking for somewhere to stay in this coastal resort. She quickly found the tourist information centre and picked up the local hotel association's leaflet. Armed with a local map she continued her walk.

An hour later, Gail was booked into a small hotel a few minutes away from the town centre, and the town's pier. Having deposited her holdall in the hotel, she took a walk along the pier, past the amusements and the rides, eventually finding a small café. She'd just finished a second coffee when her, or rather David's, mobile rang. No number was displayed.

"Mr Jones?"

"Who's calling?"

"Detective Inspector Jack Regan. My colleague Detective Sgt Carter came around to your office and saw that someone had forced entry and there's rather a mess at the moment."

"Oh."

"You don't sound too surprised Mr Jones. I take it you know rather more than you said yesterday afternoon?"

"I'd rather not discuss this over the phone, if possible. I think I'm at risk."

"Come to your office and we'll discuss it."

"I'm not in London right now."

"So where are you?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Mr Jones, you're placing me in a difficult position. If you're withholding information about arson, murder and, most recently, a break-in, then that makes you a vital witness or even a potential suspect."

"I understand that. Is there a number I can call to get hold of you?"

"I'm afraid I don't give out my number, but I'll be waiting at your office.”

Gail nervously looked around to see if anyone overheard the conversation, even though she hoped that she'd given nothing away. She wasn’t convinced by this call and something about the name rang bells.

She weighed up her options. Her home had been destroyed, her office was apparently wrecked, again, and a client's brother had been murdered at her home. What was happening? She really needed, as David, to talk to Hamiz, but his plane wasn't due in for a few more hours. Virtually no-one knew about the bedsit but how long before she was spotted there, whether as Gail or David? No, she couldn't go back to London straight away.

Gail considered walking to the local Police station and asking them to make the call, but proof of ID would be an issue plus the potential for them to take her into 'protective' custody, otherwise known as 'helping with enquiries' followed by a free ride back into an uncertain London.

Instead she walked into one of the small mobile phone shops and bought a simple model, then put £20 credit on it. She walked back to the pier, down to the end and sat on a bench. This was very exposed, and a bit breezy, but she could see everything around her. There was no hiding place.

She decided to test a theory and dialled the number for New Scotland Yard, 0207 230 1212.

"Metropolitan Police Service, how can I help you?"

"Err, DI Jack Regan please, he works in Islington I think?"

There was a laugh. "That's a name from the 70s."

"I was just called and asked to call to see the Detective Inspector, I suspect it was a fake and I think I’m at risk."

“What’s your name, dear?”

“I’m David Jones and I'm calling about a fire and murder in Hackney.”

There was some tapping on a keyboard. "I'm putting you through to someone who can help you."

"Thanks."

"SO15. Who's calling please?"

"My name is David Jones and a DI Jack Regan asked me to call."

There was a moment of silence, there was a new voice. "Why are you calling?"

"My office has been raided, my home burnt to the ground and one of my client's brothers is dead."

"The client's name?"

"Hamiz Fourani."

There was a pause and the sound of more keys being tapped.

"Right, it looks like you're in a boat in the North Sea, going somewhere?"

"No, I'm on a pier and I don't think I'm safe. Who are you anyway?"

"We're SO15, counter terrorism unit, and we're very keen to speak to you."

"Why?"

"Not over a mobile phone. We'll send a car. If you get a call from anyone else it won't be us. This DI Regan is a fake, a ruddy obvious one at that. Where are you staying?"

"I'm booked into a B&B, on the sea front, but I'd rather not say which one."

"Right. We have CCTV available now, are you dressed as the lady on the far bench?"

"Yes"

“What name are you using?”

“Gail.”

"Okay Gail, walk to the the pier entrance and we'll collect you there in a few minutes. Don't stop for anything."

She walked carefully back along the pier, scanning constantly. She was coming past the Helter Skelter when her original phone rang.

"Hello David, you do look nice in that frock."

Gail cut the call and switched that phone off, it was one thing for the genuine police to be able to locate her, even on a brand new phone, another thing entirely for a gang of who-evers. She was very wary now but still couldn't see anyone.

To get off the pier she had to walk past the noisy and busy arcade. If someone was here to grab her, any screams from Gail would get lost in the mêlée, not good news. She continued looking but had no idea what her assailant looked like. Then one of her heels became stuck in the boarding and she stumbled. Crouching, and rather distracted, she took off the offending sandal and pulled the heel clear. She rubbed her ankle before putting the sandal back on.

She was jostled as she stood and grabbed firmly from behind. "Don't turn around David, or whatever your pretty name is, just keep walking, we need a talk about mutual interests."

Gail, almost without thinking, rammed her right foot down, and through the man's shoe. He cursed loudly and dropped to the decking, releasing her. She ran, as fast as possible on her heels, to the pier entrance and straight into two uniformed police officers. She was clearly distressed.

"Leather jacket and navy skirt I was told, looks like you're the one I'm expecting. I suggest we need to get away from here and you look like a cup of tea is required, our car is just here.."

Five minutes later she was being driven into the compound at Clacton Police Station and taken straight to an interview room.

"Sorry Miss, I wasn't told your name?" "Gail" "Thanks. There are some suits from London who are coming here to talk to you but you're free to go if you want to. That's all I've been told."

The tea took a few minutes so arrange and although the door of the interview room was left open, Gail felt very isolated at this time. She'd finished the tea and was reading a magazine from her bag when two plain clothed officers, one male and female, came into the room and closed the door.

"Mr David Jones I presume? Or do you prefer Gail?" The female officer was clearly taking the lead.

"Right now, Gail, although you know that's not my legal name."

"Okay, I'm Detective Sergeant Emily Keane and this is Detective Constable Adam Smith. We'd like to get some information from you quickly then get you back up to London."

"I'm not sure how much I can tell you?"

"Let us be the judge of that. Now, start with the break-in at your office."

Gail went through the previous day's events and her decision to leave London, dressed as her female alter-ego, followed by the day's calls. DC Smith, who was making notes, tried to contain a laugh when DI Reagan was mentioned. DS Keane gave him a look that caused him to apologise, and an explanation.

"We'll need to check your phone and we'd like a look at those accounts."

"You're welcome to my phone, but the call from The Sweeney was withheld. As for the accounts, I'm afraid you'll need a court order or authorisation from Hamiz Fourani when he gets in tonight."

"That would be difficult, he was found dead in Düsseldorf yesterday morning."

"Oh. So I won't get paid? Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"As I was saying, we'd really like to see those accounts. where is the hard drive?"

"In my case at Hotel Ocean, I'm checked in there as Gail Jones."

DC Smith left the room and was back a minute later, an officer had been despatched to recover her holdall.

Gail suddenly realised she needed a wee so went to go out of the room but didn't know which way to go. The two officers, from London were strangers in this Essex seaside nick so couldn't help either. Fortunately a local officer was able to guide Gail to the ladies loo before there was an accident. It seemed that the local staff hadn't been told that Gail was really David.

Back in the room, noting that DC Smith was again absent, she asked an outstanding question, "do I have to go back to London with you?"

"We can't force you but it's clear that you're in danger and could still have vital information you haven't said yet."

"So I'm helping you with enquiries?"

"Yes"

"And why is SO15 interested in this?"

"Mr Fourani and his brother seem to have been involved with a German group, sort of grand-child of the original Baader-Meinhof gang."

That was a name from the 70s, what relevance was it now in 2014? It did however explain the SO15 involvement.

"Okay, how are we getting back to London?" "Helicopter." "And how did you get here so quickly? It wasn't that long ago I was speaking to someone at New Scotland Yard?"

"We'd traced your phone's location this morning when it was clear you weren't at your office, and followed it here to Clacton. We just didn't know who to look for until you rang us."

"Why not ring me?" "We did once but it was engaged and we didn't get a chance to call again."

DC Adam Smith returned and said to the DS that he'd faxed his notes and had organised a car to get us to the chopper. In his hand was my holdall.

Ten minutes later we were strapped in and set off for London. Talk was near impossible on the flight so she just looked out of the window at the Essex countryside as they flew the 60 miles back to the 'smoke'.

They landed at City Airport and transferred to a car but weren't heading into central London.

“Where….?”

"To a safe location until we can neutralize the threat."

"How long .....?" The answer was a shrug.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 2

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.
 

Interrogation

The drive from City Airport on Sunday lunchtime took 30 minutes, about the same time as the helicopter flight from Clacton. Not long after Gail and the two police officers arrived at the, anonymous, safe house, Gail realised it was just after 1pm and she was hungry, breakfast hadn't happened. There was also a list of things she wanted to know from the officers about her flat, the office, bedsit and her possessions.

The police had David's phone and she was told not to expect it back soon. They also cautioned her against calling any friends using her newly acquired mobile."What friends?" was her response. She'd also handed over her portable hard drive, that held the accounts for her, now dead, client Hamiz Fourani.

Gail was introduced to Jenny, the housekeeper, who would babysit Gail, any suggestion of going outside was immediately discouraged. She wasn't entirely certain where they were, but felt it was near Romford on the far eastern side of London. No doubt the M25, London's orbital motorway/carpark wasn't very far away either.

Jenny produced a plate of questionable sandwiches and a cup of tea, with promises of a proper meal later, "I only found out an hour ago you were coming here, Miss Jones, and this was made up quickly at the other house."

"It's Gail."

"Sorry, the rule is that you're Miss Jones here." What other house, she pondered, as she went in search of a loo.

Twenty minutes later Gail was invited into an interview room. This was most unlike the police station room she'd sat in earlier that day; there were soft chairs, a coffee table, low lighting and a water dispenser. A large screen hung on one wall but was off. The door was very firmly closed and the room fell very silent.

DS Emily Keane was in the room together with a new face, referred to as Mr Brown. His role was not explained at this time.

"Please get comfortable, we have much to do here Miss Jones." A cup of water was placed in front of Gail. "We need to start when you first had dealings with Hamiz Fourani."

"That was in 2005, just after the 7/7 bombings. I'd not long qualified as an accountant. I didn't have an office at the time and used a coffee shop for meetings. Hamiz owned the coffee shop and that led to me looking over some accounts for him. He thought one of his employees was siphoning money out of the business, but couldn't see where from. I found it and he said he was going to fire the employee. I recall that when he came back, he smelt of petrol but said there was a problem at the garage when he'd overfilled the tank. I had my suspicions but he'd killed the guy, but it seemed far fetched."

Mr Brown made a few notes but said nothing.

"So, Miss Jones, how did the relationship develop?"

"He then asked me to look at some bank statements and reconcile them with chequebook stubs and a ledger. I found mistakes and enough questions to warrant digging deeper. So, I asked him if that's what he wanted me to do and I told him what my fee was, plus all the coffee I could drink."

"How much of his business is on the hard drive?"

"Everything from 2006 onwards plus a few bits in 2005"

"Everything?"

"As far as I'm aware, although there were some questions about the current set as £170,000 is missing but it could be even worse."

"Why do you say that?"

"He added two new very small plots of land to the portfolio in the last 12 months but I'm not convinced they physically exist. The addresses are in the files."

Mr Brown made another couple of notes but said nothing.

The questioning continued but Gail was having difficulty remembering dates for events strung over the previous nine years,and it was obvious to DS Keane.

"OK Miss Jones, let's go over yesterday's events again, nice and slow."

Gail repeated everything she'd already said that morning, but added little details where she could. Even with some probing questions, it was clear there wasn't a lot more to be said.

Gail then felt a need for a wee so asked to be excused. Coming back into the room, Gail could see that the screen was on, showing the contents of the portable drive. A mouse was on the coffee table.

"Right Miss Jones, could you show us where your concerns are for the 2013-2014 accounts?" This was Mr Brown and he was referring to the latest completed financial year.

Gail went through the spreadsheets and then the scanned supporting documents, trying to keep the language simple. At various points she was asked to hit the print button even though she had no idea where the printer was.

Eventually DS Keane called a halt, saying they'd done enough for the day. Mr Brown left with barely a nod of acknowledgement.

"Who is he?"

"His speciality is large scale fraud but I don't exactly know who he works for, certainly not The Met Police."

"A spook then?"

"I couldn't possibly say."

"Right, can you at least bring me up-to-date on what's happening at my flat?"

"I can't but another officer will speak to you later. I'd also like you to speak to a counsellor."

"A shrink? Why?"

"Because you seem to be handling all this rather too easily and that worries me."

Gail shrugged, but inside she was torn up. As far as she was aware, the only personal items, including clothes, were those she was wearing plus a few changes in her holdall. Everything else had been destroyed?

A tear rolled down her face and a tissue was produced from somewhere. "I'm sorry."

"Gail, it's not your fault you're caught up in this, but we'll help you sort it out. Okay? Just speak to the shrink, errr, counsellor, and take it from there. We'll get you that update on your flat after you've had some dinner."

"Thanks, Emily."

The housekeeper, Jenny, showed Gail to a bedroom on the next floor with en-suite. Her holdall was open and her minimal clothing had been hung or placed in drawers. Her nightie was folded on the pillows.

"So this is home for the next few days? Are there cameras and microphones in here?"

"I'm sorry Miss Jones, but I know nothing about that, this isn't my usual workplace. Dinner is in an hour."

Gail had a wash and re-did her make-up. A shower could wait, and she really did have to go shopping and get new clothes, but as Gail or David?

Dinner was an odd affair, Gail ate in the kitchen with Jenny but there was very little in the way of conversation. She got the feeling there were others in the house, but only the two of them ate. As Gail was finished, she started to head back to her room but Jenny had other news.

"You have a visitor, she's in the lounge."

Gail went back to the earlier interrogation room and this time noticed the sign 'Lounge' on the door. A woman rose to great Gail as she entered the room.

"Hi Gail, I'm Helen Bell."

"Hi Helen. Are you a police officer?"

"Not exactly, I'm a family liaison officer working out of Stoke Newington police station. I have some information regarding your properties."

"Right, what can you tell me?"

"Firstly, your flat is sealed off as a murder scene but there's not a lot left there after the fire brigade put the blaze out. To be honest, apart from a few bits & pieces, it is a total write off. How was your insurance?"

"Adequate, I suppose I can cancel the rent payments though."

Helen laughed. "And the council tax too!"

Gail was getting to like Helen, in spite of the bad news. "So, there's nothing recoverable from the flat?"

"We have a few bits, and we'll get them to you tomorrow."

"Was my laptop amongst them?"

"No."

So far, this was not fully unexpected, but everything relating to David was at the flat, so she'd have to start again where David was concerned.

"What about my office?"

"Two officers went around there this morning to find you and disturbed two men who were turning the place upside down. Your office looks like you need a complete makeover, like those reality shows."

"What about, downstairs? I have some rooms there."

"That hadn't been touched, nice job of making it all look like storage. We had a local locksmith and a carpenter go there, to secure it. Strange thing was they both said there'd been there the day before, because of a break-in. The carpenter told us what was hidden downstairs."

She decided she should remove that carpenter from her Christmas Card list. "Oh, I need to go there and collect a few things, enough for a few more days at least."

“I guess that's where your female wardrobe is?"

"Yes, although there's not much in the way of day-wear. Is the building secure?"

"Yes, I haven't been told much, but I don't think that would be a good idea. Give me your keys and I'll collect some clothes for you, although it sounds like we'll have to consider shopping too."

"Okay, but I don't like the idea of being cooped up in here."

"That's understandable. But if the counter terrorist unit are looking after you, then it's deadly serious."

"You're right, I guess."

"Let them do their job. Now, I have a suggestion."

"Carry on."

"I guess you're staying as Gail for the time being, not a bad disguise, but you need to do some work on it. If you like, I'll organise a hair stylist and beautician to see you?"

"Here?"

"Yes, they'll be vetted and know not to ask questions."

"I thought you were a family liaison officer with The Met?"

"I might have another job, as and when needed." She smiled.

Gail was shattered by the time she made it up to her room, and by 8.30 was fast asleep.

 
Doctors

Monday morning came streaming through the windows but it was the presence of the housekeeper, bearing a cup of tea, that woke Gail.

"Good morning Jenny."

"Good morning Miss Jones. It's 7am and breakfast is in 45 minutes. I believe your first appointment is at 8.30."

"Thank you." What was the first appointment? Never mind, a wee, a shave, shower and then the dilemma of what to wear. She chose a denim skirt and simple top, although it was very 'plain Jane' compared to the previous day.

The used clothes had gone by the time she returned from the en-suite shower and Gail dressed quickly. She hadn't used anything in her moulded bra the previous day but had a pair of chicken fillet inserts that gave the semblance of a bust in a light bra. She wasn't entirely happy with the look so threw a cardigan over her shoulders. A light touch of make-up and she was ready.

Down in the kitchen a simple breakfast was offered, although she ate alone. When Gail had finished her second cup of tea, Jenny directed her to a room at the back of the house. Opening the door it was very bright and plainly a medical facility.

"Come in Gail, thank you Jenny."

"Err, hello?"

"Good morning, I'm Doctor Hughes and I just need to make sure you're fit and well."

"Okay."

"I was able to get your medical records this morning and it looks like you haven't seen a GP for a few years."

"I wasn't unwell and wouldn't bother a doctor for a cold or anything like that anyway."

"An annual check-up is still a good idea, although women tend to be more willing than men. Can you slip off your shoes and stand on the scales? Right, 60Kg. Now over there, that's right, your height is ...... 1.75m."

Gail stood there not knowing what was next, whilst the doctor wrote down the numbers and performed a little calculation.

"Your BMI is 19.5, so at the lower end of healthy. Come and sit here so I can take your blood pressure."

He wrote the numbers down but didn't tell Gail what they were, just "Okay, now can you take off the cardigan so I can extract some blood."

This was Gail's least favourite part of the examination so far, she hated having blood taken and really couldn't understand why Dr Hughes needed to fill five vials so she asked.

"I've been requested to complete a full screening, so full means full. So, finally, I need you to strip."

Gail was less than happy at this prospect but guessed that if the Doc had her medical records, he knew she was also David so would have a little extra. She nearly ran out of the room, naked, when the one finger glove was put on.

"Really?"

"'Fraid so, prostate cancer is a killer amongst men so you get a free check-up."

Two minutes later Gail was dressing herself and the Doctor was finishing his notes. He beckoned her to join him next to his table again. A small container sat on the desk.

"Could you pop into the toilet next door and give me a specimen please."

Reluctantly Gail did as asked, and returned to the medical room a few minutes later.

"Thanks, I'll have to wait for the bloods to come back but right now you're relatively healthy, perhaps a little anaemic so I'll prescribe some iron tablets. Your weight is a little low but you aren't, at first sight, likely to drop dead tomorrow!"

"Cheers."

"No problem, if anything else crops up I'll ask to see you again."

Gail guessed that he'd ignored her rather obvious lack of enthusiasm as she walked out of the room. Jenny was waiting outside.

“Did he examine you?”

“Yes.”

“You should have called me! You should not be in a room alone with a male doctor, understood?”

“Yes.” Gail didn't remember having this problem before.

"You've got time for a cuppa if you want one before your next appointment."

"What one's that?"

"I don't know, the Met don't tell me anything here."

So far as Gail was concerned, this was an obvious case of left-hand and right hand not communicating. She followed Jenny to the kitchen where a large teapot was sat ready. What was also odd was that apart from Jenny and the few visitors, she had seen no-one else. If this was a safe house, where was the security?

"Oh, Miss Jones, a bag was dropped off while you were with the Doctor, I've put it in your room."

"Thank you," but was it David's or Gail's stuff?

Gail felt more relaxed after the cup of tea, and had almost forgotten the medical examination. Was there a relaxant in the tea? They wouldn't do such a thing, would they - whoever 'they' were. Now she was confusing herself.

"Your next appointment is in the snug, I'll show you the way."

Once again, Jenny seemed to know more than she was telling or was she getting information from somewhere? This was another room that Gail hadn't noticed. Jenny left her at the door and headed back towards the kitchen.

Gail pushed the door open and walked into the small room, just two armchairs and a coffee table. Water and a box of tissues sat ready. The room's occupant rose and held out her hand.

"Good morning Gail, I'm Dr Fox, consultant psychiatrist, here as a counsellor on behalf of the Met Police."

"Hello," Gail replied - very warily.

"Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. My job here is to make sure you're okay and to see if there's anything we can do for you? I have no agenda and I'm experienced in all matters related to gender and transgenderism, as well as post traumatic stress disorder and common stress-related issues."

"But I'm not ......"

"So you don't consider yourself to be transgendered?"

"No, this is all a bit of fun." Gail did not sound convincing.

"Have you ever discussed your cross-dressing with anyone?"

"No."

"Have you been identified as David when dressed as Gail?"

"Only yesterday morning, on Clacton Pier."

"What happened?

Gail explained briefly, although it was clear that Dr Fox had been briefed.

"Do you have any family?"

"No, I lost both my parents to cancer 8 years ago and I'm an only child."

"So how did it start?"

Gail explained that David was not a pub person and wasn't comfortable in a bar with strangers. He was extremely insecure, a lousy talker and had no fashion sense. He effectively had no social life.

Years earlier, when he was a student, David had been the guinea pig for a few girls who wanted him to experiment and had found he could enjoy himself in this way. Gail was born there but he had owned very few items of female clothing and no make-up.

When the idea of going to clubs came up, he'd tried it as David but wasn't enjoying the experience. That prompted building a female wardrobe and experimenting in private before hitting the clubs as Gail.

David was well known to his nosey neighbours at his Hackney flat and had no plans to introduce them to Gail. That prompted the refurbishment at his office in Islington. It became Gail's place to crash on a Friday or Saturday night but not somewhere David could live permanently.

She told Dr Fox how she saw herself as a part-time party girl. She was never short of dance partners, or men buying her drinks. At first Gail thought she'd get thrown out of the clubs for using the ladies loo, until she realised how no-one pays any attention. The bouncers and door staff recognised her and would let her jump the queue from time to time. It was a world away from a 5ft 8" skinny and unattractive male accountant.

"Why did you decide to dress as Gail yesterday morning?"

"It seemed that it was the best way to avoid whoever was after me."

"So, you're more confident as Gail?"

"I suppose so."

“Who is happier, Gail or David?”

“I am, Gail.”

"Would you become Gail permanently?"

"I don't know, I really don’t." She grabbed a tissue as her eyes welled-up,then took sips of water to settle herself before Dr Fox started again.

"Okay, but how do you see things right now?"

"Virtually all my male belongings were either burned or soaked in foam and water. All I have left is my female wardrobe, albeit limited. So do I carry on as Gail until this situation is resolved or try to recreate David straight away?"

"That's an interesting phrase, 'recreate David'. You're referring to yourself in the third person."

"I kept the two lives separate."

"But I bet you sometimes got to go out as Gail mid-week?"

"Yes."

"And did you do client work whilst dressed as Gail, when you weren't expecting visitors?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"So the two lives are not separate, there's a real blurring going on, but is Gail the stronger personality?"

"I suppose it is."

"In that case, under that exterior shell, which are you? Gail or David?"

"Gail."

"Not David?"

"No."

"If I had a magic wand and you could restart your life as Gail, all day, every day, would you want that?"

"I think so?"

"Still some doubt, that's healthy."

"So am I ready for the loony bin?"

"You mean the white coat brigade? No, not at all. Based on what you've told me, you're probably transgendered. Now, although I'll write that in my report, unless you make an continue to see me or another gender specialist then nothing further that can happen. It's your call. I have a surgery at Queen's Hospital in Romford on a Tuesday, here's my card. If you want to see me under the NHS then I'll need a referral from your GP, do you have private health insurance?"

"Yes."

"Good, that lets you queue jump. The NHS wait can be 6 months to a year."

Gail wasn't keen on queue jumping, but figured it might be useful this time, if she needed to remain as Gail.

"Dr Fox, who do you see here? A man or a woman?"

"Gail, it's not as simple as that, it's more a case of how do you see yourself?"

Gail pondered that for a minute, then decided she'd had enough of the probing. "Are we done?"

"Yes, unless there's anything else you want to ask?"

"Not for now."

"Okay, Gail. We may meet again."

"Bye."

Once out of the room she fully expected Jenny to be stood there but the corridor was empty. She was going to head for the kitchen but decided to go upstairs for a wash and to re-do her make-up.

 
Bye, bye David?

As Gail entered her bedroom in the safe-house, it was clear that many of the possessions from her bedsit were now here. David's wallet was lying on a bedside cabinet, she'd not taken it to Clacton, but the male clothes she'd worn on Saturday were absent. Her full make-up kit, hair dryer and curling tongs were on the dressing table. All of her shoes were there, including the soft slippers that she willingly slid into. Hung in the wardrobe, or in various drawers, were the rest of Gail's clothes, including some bits that she knew she'd never wear., but hadn't been brave enough to take back. Right now, however, she needed to do some shopping!

It was now just gone 11am as she made her way to the kitchen, unsure of how the rest of the day would go.

"Hello Miss Jones, I take it that you've been up to your room now?"

"Yes. Any chance of a coffee?"

"I guessed you might need one so the cafetière is ready. Black or with milk?"

"White, no sugar thanks."

"Have I any more appointments today?"

"DS Keane wants to see you but she's stuck elsewhere at the moment, and you have a hairstylist here at 2pm."

"Is there a copy of today's Guardian?"

"No, we have this morning's Metro though. We'll have a copy of the Evening Standard around 4pm if you prefer?"

"Okay, any internet?"

"Sorry, no."

Gail drank her coffee then went back to her room. She really wanted to know what was going on in the outside world.

Her newly bought mobile phone was sat beside the bed. It wasn't as well-featured as her normal phone, and she wondered if she shouldn't ditch that phone now? Perhaps shut up the David Jones Accountancy business and start elsewhere as Gail Jones, specialising in female clients? It certainly sounded like a workable plan, except her Accountancy certificates were in her male name, how to resolve that?

Picking the phone the first thing she saw was "No Service". She turned it off, then back on and waited for it to connect to a network. Nope. So much for even a bit of surfing.

A phone started chirping away on a writing desk near the window, she didn't remember seeing it before. "Hello?" "Ah, Miss Jones. DS Keane is here and is in the snug waiting for you."

"Thank you, Jenny."

Gail and Emily Keane went back over Gail's interviews of the previous day, which had now been transcribed, and looked for any further information that Gail could recall, mostly without success.

"Why are we being so exact over this?"

"In case your statement is needed in court."

"Oh, but then anyone would know that David and Gail are the same person?"

"No, we'll write these up into several individual statements and leave the personal bits out of the main statements. We'll then use Dr Fox's report to back up your need for privacy, so long as it doesn't create a issue for the court the judge should allow that."

"But it might not end up in court?"

"No, but there will be at least one inquest; you could be called as a witness as one of the Fourani brothers died in your flat and the other was due to meet with you today."

"Point taken, how do we handle it?"

"Wait to see what happens. Other government departments are involved so the procedure isn't always standard."

"Other ........."

Emily looked Gail in the eye and just nodded. This was a euphemism for MI5, or the Security Service.

"Now," said Emily, "can you take a look at these photos and tell me if you recognise anyone."

There was a grainy CCTV shot of two men in dark clothing sat in a van on Green Lanes, north London on Saturday morning and a better one taken outside the newsagent on Sunday morning.

"They look like the guys who were in my office on Saturday morning."

"That's what we think. They were stopped in Essex yesterday afternoon coming back from Clacton in a stolen car but ran away from the patrol and haven't been seen since."

"No names?"

"They had stolen driving licences, but it's only a matter of time before we identify them.”

"So what's next?"

"Mr Brown would like to go through the accounts again, you're to highlight any discrepancies that you may have forgotten from previous years. We're also preparing warrants to hit all of Fourani's premises in one go plus seize all of the bank accounts. Because you would be one of the very few who would know the full business information, that places you at the highest risk. If there was even a sniff that they knew where you were, we'd have a major operation in order to relocate you."

"So I can't even search for news about me or the Fouranis?"

"No, and sorry about that, because you might just be tempted to write on facebook, twitter or a forum."

"Who's running the show here?"

"I'm the case officer but I report to my DI and he's signing off everything. I can't say he was too understanding about you as Gail when we showed him a photo of you. That prompted him to call in the shrink, sorry about her."

"She wasn't too bad but the doctor first thing this morning, was that strictly required?"

"Depends on how you look at it, we need to make sure you're healthy. Having a star witness collapse on us is not an option!"

Gail pouted, "star witness indeed! I bet you've never had the finger up the bum treatment?!"

"Maybe not, but wait until you see the stirrups the first time girl!"

That caused a giggling fit and the two hugged before getting back to business.

"Emily, can you at least make sure I can read the Evening Standard each day? The Metro isn't even decent for the outside loo."

"Outside loo? Oh." Laughs. "I can't see it being a problem, I'll arrange a personal copy for you as the house copy soon disappears on these ops."

"Thanks, two other things ..... was my laptop recovered? It was left at the flat on Saturday morning."

"Not there but Essex Police have the stolen car and say there's a laptop in it. We'll have to look at it first, before you can get it back. Even then ....,"

".... no internet access?"

"Got it."

"Okay and the other thing, I need to go shopping. If I had internet I could use my online accounts, but without it, it means going to real shops."

"I guessed you'd want to, but it's not my decision. Let's see what the stylist can achieve this afternoon. The bad guys have seen you in just one outfit and without a professional makeover, let's see if we can surprise Jenny by giving you a completely new look."

"So you know I'm staying as Gail?"

"Yes. I might be a little premature and forward here but, apart from your clients, who knew David?"

"Virtually no-one."

"And how many knew Gail?"

"Very few, I was just a face on a dance floor."

"So if both David & Gail Jones disappeared, would that be a problem?"

"I suppose not, but I do like Gail as a name."

"Yes, Gail and a new surname, I'm sure we can arrange to have the papers drawn up, it would be a risk to use an outside solicitor. You'd just have to think of a new name that broke the connection to your previous life, for your own safety as well as a new start once this is over?"

"I'll think about that one."

"Oh, we've completely emptied the bedsit at your office and what wasn't delivered here is in storage. We feel it's only a matter of time before it's raided again. I'd suggest you put it up for sale?"

"How am I to do that from here?"

"We'll ask Helen to sort it. Don't be surprised if she comes to see you again, she likes you."

 
Judge, jury & Executioner

"Jenny, is the stylist here yet?" Gail had been left to lunch alone and had finished just as Jenny returned from where-ever.

"I've just taken her, Diane, to your room; she's setting up in there. I tidied your personal bits away but she is completely trusted here."

"What about the usual small-talk?" Gail had treated herself to a new hair style twice, both times miles away from home and work.

"She won't, and neither should you. Off you go."

Upstairs Gail found Diane in the en-suite. "Ah, you must be Gail. I guess you haven't had a decent cut for a while?"

Gail had left her hair to grow, only having it trimmed when absolutely necessary. David was his own boss so he decided the dress code, no-one else. "It's been a while, what do you suggest?"

"Let me wash and condition it first, come over to the bath and I'll wash it there, slip off your cardigan and top, don't want them to get wet, your bra and tights too, don't worry, I've been told what to expect and told enough to know what I needed to bring." She pointed at several cases and a bag on the floor, her voice was calming but without compromise. Gail did as asked.

Gail normally rushed her shower and used a 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner that didn't really do a good job. "Yourhair's really dry, you need some strong advice on hair-care Gail!" After 15 minutes, or it could have been longer, Diane was satisfied and had Gail sit in a chair she'd taken into the bathroom.

"Right now you're a passable brunette, but we need to continue and enhance a disguise, don't we, so let's talk colour; I brought several with me." She rattled off a list of colours that Gail had barely heard of. "Now, your skin tone is a little pale, and I don't think you could carry blonde well, so let's look at the earth colours. How does auburn sound?"

"How dark is that going to be?"

"That depends on how long we leave the dye in, but it needs to be enough to sufficient change your appearance, I think you'd look good with a hint of red."

"Okay Diane, I'll let you be the judge." "And the jury and the executioner?" Giggles.

While Gail sat there, waiting for the dye to do its' work, Diane got a nail kit out and started work on Gail's hands. "I think you'll need acrylics, for a while, until your nails have grown. Right now I'll tidy them up, put a light colour on them then I'll do the acrylics tomorrow when we've more time. I can also give you a pedicure today."

It was another half hour before the dye was washed away, gently so as not to splash everywhere. Back in the chair, Dianewas now holding scissors and started making almost random cuts. In practice she was layering Gail's hair and forming a simple bob. Cut correctly it wouldn't need anything more than a wash and a brush to fix it each day.

The floor was a mass of reddish-brown hair, "Diane, how much have you cut?"

"Only the split ends and enough to create a basic style."

Jenny had delivered tea to the bedroom while the girls were busy in the bathroom, so they took five. Gail was wary of small talk but had to ask something, "where do you work normally?"

"For film and TV production companies, I get called in for the difficult or sensitive jobs."

"So, am I difficult or sensitive?"

"Unfair! I was talking about the actors who don't trust the usual make-up or stylists because of past experiences, or unusual transformations. Now, I have something else for you."

She reached into a bag and brought out a box containing a pair of breast forms. "These are theatrical forms, used for TV so have to stand up to close scrutiny. Let's wax you before I attach them. I'll put some clean towels on the bed and warm the wax pot up. Take your skirt off, then go and lie down, this is a heavy duty operation!"

Gail had shaved her legs previously but this was a completely new experience. Diane waxed everything, meaning everything, from Gail's eyebrows to her ankles. It was not a quick process and took Gail some time to get used to the ripping sensation.Afterwards, however, she was amazed how it felt as Diane applied the soothing lotion.

"Can you wait a minute before putting anything on, let the lotion be absorbed. Right, this is the plan: I'll be back tomorrow to do your acrylics then I'll attach the breast forms, that'll give your chest a chance to recover from the waxing. Don't put the chicken fillets back in today, they'll rub on your chest. For that matter, don't wear a bra either, just a cami. No tights either, please."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. Thanks Diane."

The stylist tidied up her tools and carried the bags out of the room, leaving Gail very bare and not bothered about it, until she realised that Jenny could appear at any moment. She hurriedly took a clean pair of knickers out of a drawer and started to get dressed. Looking at her useless phone, she saw it was now 4.30 in the afternoon.

After a little make-up and a spray of perfume, Gail made sure she was decent and headed down. The denim skirt remained but a nicer blouse over a vest finished the look, albeit flat-chested. She was now bare-legged, although there appeared to be a little sheen from the toning lotion Diane had used. Walking into the kitchen to check on the dinner arrangements. Sat on the big table was a copy of the evening paper with GJ scribbled in a corner. She was going to read it straight away when Helen walked in.

"Well, well, well, not bad!"

"Thanks, all my own work.""Lousy liar you are too. Come down to the snug for a chat. You've got a while before dinner."

Sat once again in the tiny lounge, Helen first checked if the possessions had arrived,

"Yes, and I understand you have my other bits in storage."

"Including your furniture. Now, we need to get some legal stuff out of the way. I have two authorisations drawn up, allowing Bell LLP to handle your business and personal affairs."

"Who's Bell LLP?"

"Me, silly. Sometimes things have to be done outside the usual police or government structure. My little firm, and I'm a qualified solicitor, handles only a few select cases a year, but we do it properly. If we asked the in-house legal team to draw up any documents, half would have the wrong year on."

"I'd heard stories about them! What am I signing for?"

"Sign here and here as David," Gail did as requested after reading the legalese.

"Now, Emily asked if you'd choose a new surname so we could also kick off the process for new documentation. You don't drive do you?"

"No, never needed to learn in London."

"Too scared to learn probably! Could you have a think about names. Also I'll start the claim on your flat insurance but need a list of the items. Make sure you claim for that laptop."

"But The Met Police have it?"

"And the chances of you getting it in a working state? It was in the flat when you left that morning, right?"

"Okay."

"So include it, here's some paper and a pen. In the morning I'll start the sale of your office and get the utilities and so on off your back. That'll cut your bank account throughput down to a trickle. We'll also wind up your business and close the business account. I'll have the funds come to me temporarily but as soon as we have a new account set-up, I'll transfer the funds there. Finally, we'll close the Gail Jones account, but you might need that money over the next week, or two, so we'll handle that one last. I'll set-up to have your post forwarded to my office. Nothing is to come directly here. Plenty to do."

"What's your fee for this?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's right. I get paid a retainer by certain parts of the Home Office to provide non-standard services that stand up to any investigation. You're covered by that retainer. By the time we're done, you'll have a nice little sum in your new account."

"What about my certificates, passport and so on?"

"Choose the name first, I'll handle the rest."

Not entirely certain that she wanted a new surname, but being swept along by Helen's optimism, Gail made her way back to the kitchen. There were some interesting smells that she hadn't noticed earlier. Jenny must have been nearby as the odd use of Anglo-Saxon drifted into the kitchen from somewhere. Gail remembered the folded Evening Standard she'd picked up, the front page had one story, "Huge arms cache found in North London."

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 3

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Murder In Mind
 
DS Emily Keane walked into the kitchen behind Gail. "Well done, you made it possible."

"Me?"

"It was one of the addresses that was supposed to be flats but was really a warehouse with alcohol as the cover product, Behind that we found enough firearms, grenades and ammunition to supply something very nasty. Searches are ongoing at other sites too, all from intelligence that you supplied."

"Wow."

"We do need to talk, right now, in the lounge. Nice hair, by the way."

They found Helen and Mr Brown in the larger lounge, the screen was on with photos from the raids.

Emily explained quickly, with the aid of the photos, how the raids had unfolded and why they'd caught the guards unaware. "No shots were fired, very clean, and I'm told the dogs had fun."

"Miss Jones, I'd like to express the thanks of the Security Service for the information and background information you provided." This was the most I'd heard from the now confirmed spook.

Emily took over. "Gail, I've been asked by my DI to say the same, your help so far has netted much more than the armaments, we have cash, documents and personnel. We're certain that several attacks have been thwarted."

"Do those captured include the two who were after me?"

"Regrettably, no. That leads me onto a difficult issue. We've heard that there's now a contract on your life. We therefore have to review your security arrangements tonight with a view to relocation. There's no evidence they know where you are as yet, but we feel it wouldn't take long now."

"How much is the contract?"

"Half a million pounds."

"So what do we do?"

"One solution is to kill you ourselves." Mr Brown again, he wasn't smiling.

"WHAT?"

"Calm down, we would fake your death and you'd get a new identity, completely new. That means not even Gail could survive."

"You said that was one solution."

"Yes, another is that you live in safe houses for the rest of your life and we relocate you every time someone sneezes."

"Don't like that option either."

"The last sensible option is that we convince everyone that you had a breakdown and that we found the hard drive without your help. Together with a new name and relocation that might work."

"Gail, whatever else happens, you're now the target of a terrorist organisation. That shopping trip is off-limits." Emily was very serious.

"I'll think of something." Helen was positive, what exactly was her role, she certainly didn't seemed fazed by the spook's presence.

Emily: "I'll speak to the DI and we'll call a news conference to put them off the scent, but for now, you're moving soon."

The meeting broke up, and so did Gail. Whilst Emily and the spook left straight away, Helen remained and provided a shoulder for Gail to cry on.

"Come on, lets go up to your room and repair your make-up. I'm staying here tonight too so we'll make ourselves decent then go down for dinner, it would seem to be a roast."

Ten minutes later they met up again and walked to the kitchen. DC Adam Smith was already there and it was clear he was now armed.

Dinner was subdued and Gail didn't have a good appetite, despite the quality of the food. There was a bottle of wine on the table and Gail was encouraged to have a glass, she figured it was that or the doctor shoving a needle in her arm to help her sleep.

Gail sat with Helen after dinner and slowly drew up the insurance list for the flat but when asked if she had chosen a new name, insisted that she wanted to keep Jones out of deference to her parents. "It's also not an uncommon name." Helen relented, but made it clear this was not an ideal situation and pulled a document from a folder.

"We'll use a Statutory Declaration, as it can be issued simply and right here, plus we only need to inform a limited number of people that it's been done. I want to make this absolutely clear, however, you must eventually create a credible gap between David Jones and your new name. We'll have to go through this again, in due course but I'll start creating your new legal identity tomorrow."

Gail, suitably advised, felt that she'd still got her own way and signed where Helen indication. Her official name was now Gail Jones, although she was still legally a male. One step at a time.

The rest of the evening was difficult. Outside there was a storm rattling gates, doors and windows. Helen and Adam were very twitchy. At 8pm Gail felt she'd had enough and went up to bed.

There was a tub of iron tablets by her bed and a bottle of spring water. She poured a glass of water and read the instructions before swallowing two of the red tablets.

This had been the third day of the rest of her life, question was how much longer was that life going to be?

Sleep did not come easily, despite the wine.
Hide & Seek

Gail was not well rested when she was woken at 7am on Tuesday morning. She'd gone to bed following news about the contract but had woken twice sweating and needing a wee. Both times she used a cold flannel to cool down and went back to her restless sleep.

Jenny, delivering an unwelcome cup of tea, only said that Diane would be there at 8.30 and breakfast was, again, at 7.45, before she quickly left.

Gail dragged herself through the bathroom, choosing linen trousers and a blouse. The new breast forms were still sat on the dressing table in their box and Gail contemplated wearing them but really wasn't too bothered. Even her hairbrush didn't want to behave, giving her a couldn't-care-less look. This was not the same Gail as the previous two mornings.

She played with her cereal at the breakfast table and left half a cup of tea. Her spirit simply wasn't there. Jenny knew not to interfere but that didn't stop her observing and making two calls from the small office behind the kitchen. The sign on that door said Pantry, but Gail hadn't paid much attention to the areas she didn't use.

Diane found Gail in the kitchen staring at her wasted cuppa. "Come on girl, let's finish off what we started."

"Forget it."

"Don't play that game with me, this is something to cheer you up, I hear they'll send for the shrink if you don't have a smile by lunchtime."

"Look, just leave me alone."

Diane walked out, but only as far as Jenny a little down the hallway. Gail could overhear the conversation, probably deliberately.

"What's up with her?"

"She had a bit of a shock yesterday. You may be wasting your time today, leave it for now, I'll let the DS know."

Diane shrugged and left the house.

***

Helen Bell found Gail, still sat in the kitchen, an hour later. If Gail had put any make-up on that morning then it would have surely streaked by now.

"Gail, we need a chat."

"Go away."

"Listen to me, girl, this is not the end of the world."

"Not the end of yours, but pretty well the end of mine."

Helen started to answer but was cut off. An alarm started ringing everywhere, followed by an announcement, "Code Red."

Helen's tack changed suddenly and she grabbed Gail by the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Come with me NOW!"

"Code Red" went the announcement.

There was running in the hallway and several officers appeared in the kitchen doorway, weapons drawn.

Two of them took over from Helen and lifted Gail, kicking the chair away. They carried her through the kitchen, past the pantry and down a short flight of steps. Gail started objecting but the "Code Red" announcement and the pandemonium was still creating confusion in her mind.

Helen kept pace with the officers and Gail. "Gail, can you walk, we have to get away from here RIGHT NOW and I need you to co-operate."

Gail agreed and was allowed to put her feet on the ground, permitting the two officers to head back towards the kitchen. Helen took Gail's hand and dragged her along a corridor that seemed to continue for 100m, followed by another short flight of steps. Several doors were opened as they passed, finally ending up in the back of an open garage. A van sat here, engine running, and Helen helped Gail into the back. The door was shut and they were on their way immediately.

"What, what happened?"

"We were compromised."

"Compromised? You mean ....."

"Someone found out where you were; you were told that was a risk. Once we know what happened I'll try to give you some more information, but that will have to wait."

The van's windows were tinted and it was difficult to see where they were going, so Gail slumped in her seat, restrained by the belt Helen had attached. Also in the back of the van were two men she'd never seen; they were clearly armed. Helen checked her bag and pulled out a 9mm handgun, ejected the magazine, checked it and re-inserted it.

"Whoa, is that what I think it is?" Gail wasn't certain what question she wanted to ask right now, the obvious one was 'am I safe?' but she wasn't sure she'd get a positive reply.

Helen nodded and dropped the gun back in her bag, keeping her bag on her lap.

Gail had neither a watch nor her phone, or even a handbag for that matter, so had no idea how long they were travelling and eventually drifted off.

***

"Gail, we've arrived, wake-up."

She slowly tried to orientate herself, as Helen helped her out of her seat and out of the van. They were clearly inside a garage, possibly underground or something similar; Gail was not taking it all in.

Helen helped her through a doorway and along two corridors, finally entering a drawing room. She pointed at a sofa and suggested Gail laid on it. The two armed officers followed, checked the room and stood outside as Helen sat across from Gail, who fell promptly back asleep.

***

Gail woke to find DS Emily Keane and Mr Brown had joined Helen in the room. Gail was offered a glass of iced water and took a sip but her first need was a wee and a wash. Helen showed her to the nearest bathroom but didn't leave her alone. Gail used a cold flannel to wake herself fully, daring to look in the mirror at her bloodshot eyes.

Back in the drawing room, she sat and tried to gather her thoughts. She'd been forcibly moved and still didn't really know why. She turned to Emily first.

"What happened?"

"Diane never made it into her work after she left us. A patrol found her car abandoned half a mile from the safe-house and there was no sign of Diane. We received notification from our control first that she was missing, then we spotted two vehicles making sweeps of the area, trying to identify the house. That was enough for the Code Red alarm."

"Diane?"

"We're still looking."

"Oh, my." Gail started to sob. Someone handed her a tissue. Emily waited for Gail.

"One piece of good news, one of the vehicles contained the two males we've been looking for. We have them although they did get injured."

"Injured?"

"The car crashed when we shot the driver, the other car left the area but we think it'll be back, patrols last saw it on the A127 heading into Essex. Regardless of that, the house has been compromised and we can't use it again."

Gail wasn't certain that firing weapons in the leafy suburbs of London was a good thing, although if the two who'd been bothering her were now out of the game ....

"Do you know who they are?"

"Yes, we've ID'd them."

Gail felt she'd not get much further with this line. "Where am I now?"

"You're out of London and very secure. This will give us time to work out how to proceed. We're also arranging for your clothes and things to be brought here later. Please also be assured we're doing everything to find Diane."

"Thanks, Emily."

There was a knock on the door and girl brought a tray in, laden with tea and biscuits. A clock chimed midday, the first confirmation of time since breakfast, as well as the first welcomed cuppa of the day.

Helen suggested she and Gail went to the conservatory at the rear of the house, although she had no idea of the layout of the house as yet. They walked from a dimly lit hallway into a bright, glass covered room looking out onto a large lawn and flower beds.

"Is this safe?" Asked Gail?

"Yes, we only use this house for very special guests."

"We?"

"This is owned by the Security Service*."

"So you're ...."

"A spy? No, no, I have many roles but spying isn't one of them. In fact MI5, as you know it, doesn't have any spies, just surveillance specialists, intelligence analysts, and even more intelligence analysts."

"Why am I being told this?"

"Because I've been told that I can now tell you. You need to realise that the information you've given us so far has implications across many investigations. Later this afternoon, when the rest of the team arrives, you and Dave Brown can go through the data again. We have a new laptop for you and there's a copy of your data loaded onto it."

Gail started to realise that the game had changed.

"Let's go for a walk." Helen stood and walked over to a pair of doors, throwing them open.

"I'm in slippers."

"Never mind, the grass is dry."

Gail stepped out and breathed her first fresh air since Sunday lunchtime. It felt good.
 

Clearance
 
Gail's stroll around the gardens with Helen certainly helped relax her, as well as re-enforcing the message that this location was indeed safe. They walked back into the house close to 1pm and a buffet lunch was set-up in the conservatory.

Gail helped herself to a small plate of sandwiches and pastries, plus a glass of OJ. With the familiar faces around her she was now much more comfortable, although she realised out loud that she hadn't put any make-up on so must have looked a mess.

"Don't worry Gail, your clothes, make-up and personal bits have arrived, Jenny has also arrived here and is now putting everything away in your new room. After lunch go and have a freshen up."

Helen always sounded re-assuring, putting Gail at ease, at least when she wasn't dragging Gail through a house.

After lunch, Jenny arrived to show Gail her new room on the next floor, although there was first a short guided tour of the ground floor, including the library, games room and swimming pool.

"A pool? I don't have a swimming costume."

"Don't worry Miss Jones, we'll obtain one for you, we know your size."

They were soon at Gail's room, Jenny left her on her own. First job was a shower and a fresh start to the day. This time she used the new breast forms in her bra, although it might take a while for her to get used to the change in her centre of gravity. She also put some light make-up on, especially to hide the lines under her eyes.

She walked downstairs and went towards the conservatory but was intercepted by Dave Brown.

"I've set-up in the library, can we take a look at the data please?"

Although Gail had looked in the library earlier, she hadn't realised that apart from the usual bookshelves there was also a projection system and a screen that came down from the ceiling. A laptop was sat on a desk and the desktop was replicated on the projector's screen.

"This is your new laptop. I'd like you, when you have time, to go through the data starting in 2005, and look for any anomalies, I'll supply you with an internal email address to keep me and my team aware of what you find."

"So I'll have internet access?"

"Limited, no social media sites and don't be surprised if certain other sites don't work. There's no wifi so I'm afraid you'll have to use the data points in the library and a few other rooms."

"Okay, what do you want to do now?"

"Let's go through the last full year again, try to find any other buildings we haven't already identified plus any rogue payments. I'd also like you to track down the £170,000 that originally caused your concern."

They spent 4 hours going through the spreadsheets, bank statements, invoices, and myriad of other documents, to & fro. They located two more buildings and started making headway into the missing funds. One invoice was for machine parts, from a supplier near Düsseldorf. That got Mr Brown's interest and he made copious notes on a laptop of his own.

They saw a pattern with some of the invoices, very similar amounts but different suppliers. Looking at the banking records, funds were being transferred to the same account each time. That account number, a German account he said, was noted on the second laptop.

"This is excellent Gail, you have a great advantage over my own team in that you've been handling this data for so long so know the documents and data."

"Glad I can help. Do you have any idea what this could be?"

"It looks like arms shipments, but I'm unsure right now about those payments, they're fortnightly and to the same destination account but raised against multiple sources. Definitely an attempt to hide the payments, albeit crudely."

"I'll leave that for your team to work out."

"They'll enjoy themselves with this, I'm certain. I've already sent the data over. Can you promise me you'll find the time to go through all of this."

"Certainly, doesn't look like I'll be going off on holiday soon!"

"Great."

There was a knock on the door and Helen put her head into the library. "Dinner is in 30 minutes in the dining room."

Gail went up to her room and freshened herself, it had been a little warm in the library. The view from her bedroom window looked out onto the long driveway leading away from the front door, although she hadn't come into the building that way. It was certainly the size of a stately home, but where? She had no idea. More questions.

She walked downstairs and easily located the dining room, due to the voices coming from it.

***

Gail was sat with Helen again, this time in a lounge, having finished dinner. She was sipping from a glass of Chablis, her second, whilst Helen and her made small-talk. Gail was intrigued by Helen, she seemed to be many things, but none of her cover stories seemed to fit exactly.

"Gail, it's pretty clear that we can't go shopping, but I think we have a compromise available?"

"What's that?"

"I have to do some work in my office tomorrow but I'll be over later in the day. If we do some online shopping, I'll have it delivered to my office and I'll pay from my account, just in case. It can come off any money I get for you."

"Sounds like the best we can do?"

"Exactly. Oh, I have some interesting news for you."

"Go on."

"There are several cash rewards for information on drugs and arms shipments that lead to prosecution, plus previously unsolved murders, so far you would have earned £5000 based on the information you supplied."

"Wow, in just a few days?"

"Yes, the raids yesterday morning uncovered much more than we first thought. There's a problem, however, the rewards are handled through Crimestoppers, a charity, not through the police."

"And you're worried about my security?"

"Yes, so we've come up with an alternative idea. You'll be paid an allowance direct from Security Service funds of £2500 per month for every month you're with us, and the balance of any money owed from the various rewards when you're on your own feet again."

"That makes it sound like I'm on the payroll?"

"That can't be done until your security clearance has been completed."

"Eh?"

"We're doing a full background check to clear you to DV level, that's sufficient for Top Secret. You're cleared to SC right now which is why we can have this conversation."

"I had wondered. What's SC?"

"That's clearance to Secret. Consider yourself a contractor rather than an employee! Anyway, final clearance should only take a few more days at the most."

Gail was stunned and not entirely certain what she was hearing.

"However, it's important that we complete one outstanding item tonight. I'll accept that you want to keep your legal name as Gail Jones for now, but we need to arrange for a credible alias for you."

"So, you're not insisting on me changing my name?"

"No, only that you will have an alternative name for professional purposes."

"I've been thinking and I like 'Abigail', so that could be 'Abi' or 'Gail'. Perhaps 'Johnson' as a surname?"

"That could be Gail Johnson, which is too close to Gail Jones."

"How about Abigail Adams then? 'Miss A. Adams' has a nice ring about it?"

"That sounds good. Write it on this sheet and can you do some trial signatures for me?"

That seemed to conclude the evening's business, she wished Helen a good night, finished her wine and went upstairs. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 
Briefing
 
Although Gail had only spent two nights in the first safe-house, waking up in a different room on this Wednesday morning certainly disorientated her. There was a soft knock on the door and a maid brought in a cup of tea.

"Good morning Miss, breakfast is at 8 o'clock in the dining room."

"Thank you ...?"

"Lisa, Miss."

"Thank you Lisa."

There was a clock in the bedroom, which now read 7.15 so auto-pilot took over. Gail walked into the dining room a few minutes early to be met by Jenny.

"Good morning, Miss Jones. I believe you asked for The Guardian newspaper a few days ago, we'll now have a copy for you each morning."

"Thank you Jenny, what's my schedule for today?"

Jenny nodded, "Helen will be here sometime this afternoon, otherwise you have a free day. I've obtained a swimsuit and will put it in your room in case you want to use the pool later."

"Thank you."

Breakfast was quiet, with only DC Adam Smith in attendance, although he was pre-occupied with a wad of documents. Gail retired to the conservatory with a coffee and her newspaper for an in depth read of which parts of the world were keen on killing each-other. Two UK stories caught her eye, the first was about further raids but in south London this time; more firearms, drugs had been recovered and two Germans detained.

The other one was report of an armed police operation in Hornchurch, near Romford, and a separate but apparently connected incident near Southend. One person was dead, two injured in hospital and a fourth at an undisclosed London police station. The story reported that this was a suspected kidnapping as a distraught, unnamed, woman had been found in the back of one of the cars and was reported as receiving medical treatment.

There was a noise behind Gail and she spun around.

"Oh, Diane!" Gail rushed towards her stylist and threw her arms around the bruised woman. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

They moved onto a two-seater settee.

"Gail, it's not your fault. I've got some ideas as to who gave them my name and I suspect I was followed. I didn't check if I had a tail and then parked too close to the house because of all of the stuff I had to carry. It was enough for them to identify the house. When I left they blocked me in and wanted to know everything, but I wouldn't tell. They hit me a bit but reckoned they knew enough anyway. I was in the car that the police chased from the area and we were eventually stopped by Essex Police. It's not nice having weapons pointing at you, but I was bound up so couldn't raise my hands! I also couldn't say anything about why I was there, which was awkward, until Special Branch intervened."

"Special Branch?"

"They're the part of the police who run counter terrorism and security service special operations outside of London, they use me sometimes."

"Okay, it looks like I've much more to learn! When did you get here?"

"I was brought late last night, but I'm not certain where we are."

"I don't know either. When your car was found, everything went into panic mode and I was driven away very quickly. What about your real work?"

"I've taken sick leave, but as I'm self-employed it's immaterial really. I'll get paid for anything I do here, so I don't mind a few days break."

"I'm sure my nails can wait, and I'm sorry about my lousy attitude yesterday morning."

"Don't worry. Anyway, fancy a walk in the grounds?"

The pair set off and went further than Gail had gone the previous evening, finding a small lake. There were also several grounds-persons who all checked out the two women as they walked.

"Diane, I get the feeling we're being watched."

"We are, get used to it."

"How can you be so calm?"

"Because I've been doing this kind of work for several years and I've seen most things, none of which I can repeat, of course."

"Naturally." Gail had not as yet had a security briefing so just agreed with Diane out of deference rather than ignorance.

Their route brought them back to the house after an hour. "Fancy a swim, Gail?"

"I thought you didn't know this house?"

"I said I didn't know where it is, but I've been here before and know there's a great pool. I keep an emergency overnight bag in my car that includes a swimsuit, just in case, and it was delivered here with me. Have you got one?"

"I don't but Jenny said they'd be one in my room. I'm not certain how it will look though?"

"Let's go up and see. I'll get some bits from my room."

A short while later, Diane had glued the fake breasts into place and helped Gail into her first swimsuit, although this was really a tankini and shorts, chosen for modesty no doubt. Diane then nipped into her own room to change, appearing a few minutes later in her own bikini.

The pool was located at basement level, under the conservatory. Gail found it warm but not too humid, then spotted the jacuzzi and was desperate to try it, but Diane told her to wait.

"Let's do some lengths first Gail, then we can sit in the tub. There's a steam room too, if you fancy that."

"I can see myself down here before breakfast every day?"

"Right, seven tomorrow?"

"You're on."

They swam for half an hour before getting into the jacuzzi.

"How long are you going to be here Diane?"

"Probably just a few days. As a precaution my flat has been emptied and I'm planning on renting a new one elsewhere in London. My car is being changed too. Diane is just a name for my work in these circles, I have a different professional name so I can get back into the swing of it easily."

Tannoy: "Diane, please report to the housekeeper."

"Oh well Gail, that's my free time finished! I've got to be debriefed."

Gail and Diane grabbed the towels and went to their bedrooms to shower. It was gone 10.00 when she made her way back down, heading for the library.

***

By lunchtime Gail had gone through most of the 2005/06 data, quicker than she thought as the businesses were much smaller at the time. Hamiz Fourani had owned a dozen buildings, listed either purpose built as flats or converted from warehouses, Victorian factories and large houses.

One storage facility intrigued Gail, armed with a new suspicion of her deceased client’s activities. The premises had been sold to Bader Logistik Dusseldorf GmbH in March 2006, right at the end of the financial year for £250,000. Given the size of the premises, and the location, this was cheap - very cheap. She logged this information using the email address provided. At 1245 she logged out of the laptop and headed upstairs to wash.

***

After lunch Gail headed back to the library and started work on the 2006/07 data set, she'd been at it for half an hour when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

A stranger walked into the room, clutching a document wallet. "Good afternoon Miss Jones, I'm John Smith and I'd like to speak to you about security."

"If you must, I hope the library's comfortable enough?". John brought a chair up to the table where Gail was working.

"Certainly. Let me explain, I'm a personnel security manager for the Security Service. As you should have been told, we've been obtaining high level security clearance for you."

"Yes, but I don't understand why?"

"There's no way you could continue dealing with my colleagues or remain here if we had any doubts about your identity or background."

"I understand."

"Good. Firstly, I can confirm you have been cleared to DV level. That gives you several privileges but also carries responsibilities."

John then put a form in front of Gail, it was already addressed to her.

"Please sign this, it is an acknowledgement that anything you see or here here is subject to the Official Secrets Act and that you could be prosecuted if you breach that act."

Gail signed, concerned that she might accidentally release the dinner menu and end up in prison!

John Smith laughed, "I hear that one all the time!"

He continued by explaining the rules, regulations and limitations of her new official tag.

"It's really just common sense, all in all. One thing I must make clear, no-one here or indeed anywhere in Government is cleared to read every secret or top secret document, and you must not assume that someone else here is cleared to know what you and Dave Brown talk about."

"Understood."

"Right, give me a few days and we'll arrange a tour of Thames House for you."

"Thames House?"

"The HQ of the Security Service."

"Wow."

He stood, "welcome to the Security Service Miss Jones."

They shook and he left.

Gail sat back down, still trying to come to terms with what was going on around her. On Saturday morning she was an accountant struggling with a few clients, now she was a contractor, or even an employee, of the Security Service with an invite to their HQ. There was also the small matter of a contract on her, or rather David's, head.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 4

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Money, Money, Money
 
After the revelation that she was now cleared to work at one of highest government security levels, Gail struggled to achieve much more work on the financial data. She only cross-checked one address but discovered a repeat of dealings with Bader Logistik Dusseldorf GmbH.
This was all very surreal, she thought, she was virtually an employee of the infamous MI5.

Gail was very relieved when Lisa, the maid, popped her head into the library after knocking gently.

"Dinner is in 45 minutes, Miss." "Thank you Lisa."

Gail shut down the laptop and left the library, the first stop was her room.

***

Diane was missing at dinner time, but Helen clearly wanted to talk to Gail that evening, so there was no surprise when Helen picked up the half empty bottle of Cabernet Shiraz.

"Grab, your glass and come with me." They walked to the drawing room.

"How are you today, Gail?"

"Fine, but I wasn't expecting the security talk, almost like the Spanish Inquisition at times."

"Ah, no-one expects the Spanish Inquisition*!"

They laughed, Gail having inadvertently caused a Monty Python moment. Maybe a dead parrot next time?

"Never mind, you won't see him again unless you do something naughty, in which case the thumb-screws will be deployed."

"Hopefully that won't be necessary!"

"Right, first task is for me to take your photo. Can you stand behind the door, that should be a clean enough canvas."

Helen took several head and shoulder shots, from a variety of angles, plus some full length ones. Next she pulled a small pad from a bag.

"I'll use those photos for your new ID. I also need to take your fingerprints."

"Why?"

"Two reasons, the police need to have your prints to eliminate you formally from the murder enquiries, plus we need them on file. It's a policy. Firstly with ink and then the modern method."

Helen took Gail's hands, one finger at a time and rolled them on the ink pad and then on a form. This took several minutes and left Gail with ten black digits, Helen handed her a few wet wipes.

“Clean yourself off then was thoroughly in the bathroom. We'll finish this when you get back.”

The ink pad had been cleared away when she returned and it looked like the area had been polished. Gail was worried that she'd taken ages, but Helen wasn't concerned.

“That ink is a pig to remove off skin, thankfully the electronic version is a lot quicker and cleaner.”

Finally Helen was finished, she picked up a pack of papers.

"I'd like to bring you up to date with the investigation and have a request." Gail nodded. "Firstly, the German company you identified is proving to be most interesting. The two Germans arrested yesterday both worked for that company but were also wanted in Germany on European Arrest Warrants. Those may have to wait, however, as we've identified them both near your flat on Saturday morning, at the time Hamed Fourani was murdered."

"Oh!"

"They weren't too clever with technology it seems and had done a Google Maps search for your address on their phones, plus plotted a route there. They deny it too, but there were traces of petrol on their boots that they can't explain."

"So no quick flight back to Germany?"

"It's more interesting than that, it seems they are also involved with the murder of Hamiz Fourani and flew into Stansted on Saturday morning. So the Bundespolizei are looking at a joint investigation."

"Bundespolizei?"

"The German Federal Police. They've raided the Düsseldorf company you identified and have detained a grand-daughter of one of the original Baader-Meinhof gang. They are really pleased with the info from you, although your work is under a codename now."

"Codename?"

"Yes, but I couldn't tell you what it is, even if I knew."

"Security, eh?"

"Yes. Onto other matters - I've informed Companies House that your business has been wound up. Your business bank accounts, plus David's personal account have been closed and all the automated payments have been stopped. My office will handle any remaining charges on your office and bedsit, although I suspect there's some advance charges due to come back from the utility companies."

"Thanks."

"That's okay, all part of the service. Now, let's go shopping."

That meant a move into the library where Gail powered up her laptop and accessed several websites for the major stores, just making a note of the item code, plus size and colour, passing this information to Helen. It wasn't going to be a swift process but at least she could improve her wardrobe.

Gail figured, by the time she'd finished, that she'd spent over £800.

"Don't worry about that, it would be covered from what was in those accounts. As it is, I have an outline agreement to settle your insurance claim for the flat. I explained you didn't want them to replace any of your belongings as it might be sometime before you're in a position to move back in anywhere, so far as they're all concerned you're taking an extended holiday out of the country to get over the stress. They weren't happy but we've agreed a cash figure of £12,500, it should be paid into my account by Friday.

"I also had your landlord pay back the rent deposit of £2000, he wanted to argue that you'd forfeited it but I pointed out it wasn't your fault the flat was virtually destroyed. His own insurance will have to pay for that to be fixed, although I hear he'll just sell the site to a developer for a tidy profit. Finally, we have an offer on the office and bedsit of £250,000. If all goes well, that could complete next week or perhaps the week after that. So, you see, you can easily afford this shopping!"

Gail couldn't remember ever having this amount of money before, and this was without considering the £2,500 monthly allowance from the Security Service. How much was tax free she wondered? At least, as an accountant, she knew how to claim tax back so she could fund another shopping trip?

Helen got up to leave, but Gail had one nagging question. "How are you able to spend this much time on me, Helen?"

"I only take on one case at a time, so you are my sole concern at the moment."

Diane put her head into the library as Gail was closing down her laptop. "Hi Gail."

"Where have you been, Diane?"

"Sorry, I was a bit late for dinner, I've been in debrief all afternoon. They took me to Paddington Green high security police station for interview and to formally identify the two who grabbed me. Fancy a chat in the lounge?"

"No, sorry but I'm tired. It's been a full-on day for me as well. Are we still on for a swim at seven?"

"Sure."

Diane headed up to her own room with Gail a few steps behind.

 
Close Protection
 
Someone must have known about the plan to have a swim before breakfast, not surprising really in a Security Service building, as a telephone in her room rang at 0645 on Thursday morning. Gail opened her eyes and found the phone next to her bed, when was that installed?

"Good morning, Miss, I'm told you needed an alarm call?"

"Thank you, Lisa. What time is it?"

"A quarter to seven, Miss."

Gail appeared outside her room immediately after Diane ventured out of hers. They talked whilst heading down to the pool.

"Good morning Gail, isn't that a different swimsuit?"

"I was surprised to see it, as I'd left yesterday's in the bathroom after rinsing it. I did struggle a little getting into it though."

"I bet you've never worn a one-piece swimsuit or even a leotard before?"

"Definitely not, I suppose there's a first for everything!"

Their swim was a gentle twenty minutes long, finished with 5 minutes in the steam room. Then back to their rooms to shower and dress for the day.

After breakfast, Gail wondered what was on the agenda for the day, although she did plan to spend some more time on the Fourani accounts in order to tackle the rest of 2006/07. First, however, she wanted to have a quick read of The Guardian newspaper which was waiting for her in the dining room. She walked towards the conservatory.

"Gail?"

"Yes Diane."

"I have my nail kit here, and I had promised to put some acrylics on to lengthen and strengthen your nails a little. Do you have time now?"

"I suppose so."

"Bring your paper, you'll have plenty of time to read it."

They went to Diane's room and Gail sat on the bed whilst Diane pulled up a chair and a small table.

"Here we go."

Thirty minutes later it was done; Diane had added white tips to the mid-pink artificial nails. She put the nail kit away and Gail got ready to stand.

"Stay where you are, there's a couple of things more that I'd like to do. Firstly, you don't have your ears pierced? I guess you didn't want David to have anything in his ears?"

"No, it was fear of being detected."

"Well, right now the reverse is true, without earrings a woman might look twice at you and a bit closer too. Just that little clue could give you away."

"Okay, I get the point!"

Diane reached down and pulled out an ear-piercing gun and loaded a cartridge, "These are 5mm studs and you'll have to keep them in for a few weeks before you can change them for hoops or different studs."

She then reached over and did Gail's left ear, reloaded and did the right ear.

"You didn't warn me about the sting!"

"Most girls don't object, mind you they tend to get their first holes when they're around 10 or 11 years old"

"First?"

"Yes, often teenagers go for a second set. Now, let me tell you about cleaning them, especially after you've been in the pool."

Suitably advised, Diane handed Gail a bottle of cleaning liquid and a bag of cotton-wool pads.

"You said there was something else?"

Yes, I want to give you a lesson in make-up, particularly the 'less is more' principle."

A phone rang before Gail could reply, Diane answered it. "Hello? Yes she is. Okay, I'll send her down."

Putting the handset on the cradle, Diane explained the call.

"That was Jenny, DS Keane has arrived and would like to see you."

"Can we continue this later?"

"Yes, it looks like I'll be here until after the weekend."

Gail met Emily Keane in the library. "Good morning Gail, I'd like to bring you up to speed with the investigations. Some of Fourani's better educated employees who we found in his warehouses have told us that the Fourani brothers had not got on for a few years and that Hamiz wouldn't let his brother see the bank accounts. Hamed went to your flat, expecting to find you there on a Saturday morning, in order to persuade you to hand over the data. I suspect he was looking for the paperwork but you say you didn't have any?"

"That's right, after I scanned everything I returned it. That way I only held it for a few days. Even then, I scanned everything in my office and kept the paperwork in a locked document box; I never took any of the paper documents home."

"It seems that whilst Hamed was searching your flat, he was surprised by the two Germans. They were also after evidence that Hamiz had short-changed them and figured that you, again, could supply the information."

"I wonder how they got my address?"

"We're not certain but I bet you were listed in the phone book?"

"Yes, I won't make that mistake again!"

"Anyway, one of the Germans tells us that Hamed pulled a gun on them when they entered your flat, but it didn't fire. They attacked him, got the weapon from him and shot him with his own weapon. One of them then went to a petrol station and bought a gallon of petrol, we have CCTV of that, they torched your place to destroy the evidence. So, we have them on murder and arson; that's at least 20 years in Belmarsh Prison."

"Good grief. What about Hamiz's murder?"

"The German authorities are still investigating, we'll have a report in a few days."

"Okay. Any information on the leak at the safe-house," she laughed, "unsafe-house?!"

"Yes, one of the protection officers seems to have had a large deposit in his bank account this week, he's looking at a very uncomfortable few years away and no pension when he gets back out."

"Oh. Could that happen here?"

"No. One of the problems we had at the safe-house was the speed at which we needed it, some of our usual officers were on leave or other duties and weren't available. Therefore we used some regular firearms trained officers, including two from a neighbouring force. We have the full complement of our usual officers here."

"I see. How much longer will I need to stay here?"

"Until we're certain that anyone who had knowledge of you has been detained or neutralized. We still have a few people trying to locate you."

"How likely is that?"

"Not very but I think Helen can give you a better answer."

Emily got up to leave, "remember Gail, you are invaluable to these investigations, especially the counter-terrorism angle, therefore protecting you is paramount."

Emily left the room whilst Gail sat there and pondered her words, turning them upside down. What if Gail's evidence wasn't that important, would they have just left her? She started to sob. Emily had left the library door open and Gail's quiet sobs could just be heard in the corridor; Jenny was the first to pass by.

"Come on Gail, I don't know what the problem is but we can help." She sat beside Gail and put her arm around the tearful woman, offering a tissue from a nearby box.

Oh, she was no longer Miss Jones. "I'm scared."

"Don't be, we're all here to protect you."

"But look what happened a few days ago."

"That was unfortunate but we had procedures in place to deal with it and neither you nor any of our people were hurt. The fact that you're now here underlines that we need to take care of you and that you, in return, can assist us a great deal. It's a two-way street. Now, go to your room, sort out your make-up and I'll arrange some coffee and chocolate biscuits in the conservatory."

 
Eye Spy
 

It was just gone eleven o'clock when Gail arrived in the conservatory, finding a stranger in there.

"Hi Gail, nice nails! Anyway, I'm Cloe Gardner and I'm the in-house optician."

She was confused how this stranger knew her, but responded despite her concerns, "Good morning Cloe."

"Okay Gail. I've been asked by Helen to see you about your eyesight and your image. When was the last time your eyes were checked?"

"Several years ago, I'd stopped getting reminders."

"Have you ever worn glasses?"

"No, except in the summer if I went away, which wasn't often. I would usually pick up a pair of really cheap tinted glasses from a discount store."

"I've set-up some equipment in the medical room upstairs and I'd like to do a full evaluation. You do know that several conditions such as high blood pressure and diabetes can be detected through eye examinations?"

"I'd heard that."

"Does your family have any history of glaucoma?"

"Not that I know."

Lisa arrived with coffee and biscuits before Cloe had a chance to drag Gail out of the conservatory. Cloe tried to tease some of Gail's history out of her, but mindful of the security warnings the previous day, Gail wasn't saying much.

With the coffee finished, and Gail suitably freshened, she followed Cloe's directions to the medical room. Half an hour later Cloe had completed her intense examination.

"How often are you using a computer?"

"Several hours a day, every day."

"Well, it seems to have taken its' toll on your eyes. You're long-sighted and definitely need correction. I have a small selection of frames here that you can choose from, plus a catalogue with a few hundred others. With your face, I wouldn't go for a very small frame or conversely a large one."

Gail started her search, not entirely convinced she needed glasses.

"If we don't do something now, your eyes will get progressively worse as the eye muscles try to do the correction themselves, that is not good for you!"

"Okay, okay."

"What I propose is that I'll order varifocal lens so you can work from a laptop screen or a projector screen and not have to remove the glasses for distance work. I'll add a photo-chromic coating to the order as well."

Gail finished her search, holding a frame in her hand.

"Let's see what it looks like."

Cloe had Gail pop the sample frames on, "yes, they'll be fine. I'll get back to the office and place the order, expect to see me again after the weekend."

"Okay, thanks."

Gail found herself downstairs and with half an hour of spare time before lunch. She went back up to her room, put on a cardigan and switched her usual slippers for some sandals before heading out into the grounds.

The sandals were wise, but with hindsight boots may have been better. It had rained overnight and the grass was very damp, although the paths were drying well. She decided to walk around to the front of the house and alongside the main avenue towards the front gate. At first she couldn't see any of the grounds staff, then two quad bikes raced towards her. One of the riders spoke to her.

"Miss Jones, could I suggest you head back to the house? I can give you a lift there."

"I was just looking down the avenue."

"I strongly advise against that." He paused a second and it appeared he was getting a radio message. "Ah, I'm told lunch is in 10 minutes, let me give you transport back to the conservatory."

"If you insist." Gail was resigned to this, although it did seem to mean that she did not have full freedom of movement within the grounds. She accepted the invite onto the passenger seat of the nearest quad bike and resolved to question what had just happened.

***

After lunch Jenny asked to speak to Gail alone.

"That was rather silly, and dangerous."

"Why? All I did was go around the front."

"Even so, your security, the security of this location was at risk."

"How come?"

"Oh, did we forget to give you the site briefing?"

"What's a site briefing?"

Ten minutes later, and with the aid of a map, Gail had a better idea of the building and its' grounds. There were areas marked on the map, zones, which denoted where there was a greater than 10% risk of being observed from helicopters, drones or satellites. The rear of the house was covered in evergreens, with only the lake exposed, and was considered much safer.

Gail could also now see the location of the underground garage and covered access, which explained how she'd been brought into the house on Tuesday morning, as well as a fitness room, attached to the main building.

"Right, I understand now, although having a pair of quad bikes heading towards me wasn't fun." She pointed at the map, "I didn't know about the the fitness room, could I go there later?"

"We'll sort something out for you. Now, Dr Hughes will be here shortly and wants to review the results of your medical examination."

"I'll be in my room."

Gail reached her room, kicked off the sandals, then flopped onto the bed. Within a few minutes she was fast asleep.

***

"Gail, Gail, wake-up!"

Gail stirred, but was confused. Her eyes opened but all she could see was a blur.

"Gail, come on. Can you sit up?"

She was lying on top of the duvet and shuffled up the bed as a couple of pillows were repositioned.

"Right, the doctor is going to check your blood pressure, stay still."

Gail finally identified the voice as Jenny's but wasn't going to argue, nor had the energy to move any further. The result of the BP check took only a minute.

"Jenny, call an ambulance."

 
Vixen
 

Gail regained conciousness but had no idea what the time was, or even if it was still Thursday. She was wearing an oxygen mask and had one of those machines next to her that go "beep" every second or so. From her horizontal position she could see very little of the room, but guessed enough to realise she wasn't at the house. She was shifting her head around, causing the oxygen line to move around, it didn't take long for someone to notice.

"Gail? Are you awake?"

"Hmmmm ymmy."

A nurse reached over and moved the mask off her face.

"Better?"

"Thanks. Where am I?"

"You're in the Northwick Park Hospital."

"London?"

"North West London, near Harrow."

"Okay. Now, why am I here?"

"You collapsed, but I'm not allowed to say much. Plus, they won't explain why there's an armed guard outside your room."

There was a cough behind her and the nurse was invited to leave the room, suddenly realising how her last comment sounded. Jenny escorted her out, whilst Dr Hughes came in.

"Now, Gail. Was all this just so you could avoid a chat with me back at the house?"

"What?"

"Sorry, just trying to lighten the atmosphere in here. How do you feel?"

"Light headed, and my eyes aren't working properly."

"Okay, let me back-track a bit. When I examined you on Monday, your blood pressure was a little low, but not dangerously. There were some other issues, but they were less pressing, although connected. When you collapsed today at the house, your BP had dropped alarmingly so you were brought here."

"And now?"

"It's still a little low, but with intervention it will be back to near normal by tomorrow, your eyesight is a symptom of the low BP. However, that's no longer the main concern."

"So what is?"

"You appear to have started the male menopause, the andropause, some twenty to thirty years early, your hormone levels are haywire and your testosterone level is almost non-existent. We did a biopsy of one of your testes and are pretty sure it's dying."

"So what does that mean?"

"Well, fathering children is now out of the question, but without the correct hormone balance you will suffer from a range of seemingly unconnected problems, including low blood pressure and mood swings."

"What can you do?"

"Until we're certain of your long-term intentions, that's something I can't answer. However, I would like to operate tomorrow to perform a bilateral orchidectomy."

"Bilateral what?"

"Remove your testes."

"Oh balls!"

"Quite. Try to get some rest."

Gail dozed for a few hours. Her eyes seemed better when she woke next, she could see the window on the far wall and the orange glow from street lighting. Now she realised there was a cannula in her left hand attached to a drip, using her free hand she rubbed both eyes, then explored her circumstances a little further.

Gail was dressed in one of her nighties, but she felt a tube running from her groin. A little probing confirmed a catheter. Further up her left arm was a strap and a small pack. As she probed it, the strap inflated into a cuff and then deflated, twice.

A nurse came into the room a few minutes later as Gail was lying there, trying to remember everything Dr Hughes had said.

"Ah, good evening Gail. I'm Vikki and I'm on duty until the morning."

"Hi Vikki, what time is it?"

"Ten pm." Vikki reached over to check the various pieces of monitoring equipment, "very nice, soon have you back on your feet."

"Can you remove this?" Gail pointed at her groin.

"Do you mean the catheter? Not yet, you'd fall over if you got out of bed for a wee. Anyway, now you're awake I'll get you some soup."

Gail wasn't asked whether she was hungry or not, typical hospitals! Question was, just how bad would this be?

The soup arrived ten minutes later, in a sealed drinking vessel with a large straw. "So you don't spill it, let's have you sit up a bit more, to make you more comfortable."

To be honest, the soup wasn't too bad, it actually had flavour and didn't taste of sawdust mixed with lukewarm water. So, she was probably in a private room. The NHS did emergency care really well, world class, but often failed in the hospitality stakes. That was rather ironic really, as it was the NHS accountants who were squeezing the pennies out of the budget.

Gail had finished her soup and was given a fresh bottle of water to sip. Vikki made very little effort to chat with Gail, probably due to an interesting chat with a plain clothed armed officer; not your typical hospital arrangement. Gail laid there, not fatigued but bored.

The automatic BP cuff inflated every 30 minutes, irritatingly just as Gail thought she could nod off. What she did find strange was the near complete lack of noise from outside her room, the only time Gail had been in hospital previously, every noise known to humanity could happen during an average overnight stay, no peace for the wicked, or the sick, indeed.

Eventually, Gail drifted into R.E.M. sleep and started dreaming. She was taken back to the time, when she was twelve, that her arm had been broken whilst at school by one of the bullies, purely accidental the school had said. Gail had been taken by ambulance on that occasion to the London Hospital, in London's East End. Whilst the injury concerned David, who was kept overnight on an adult male ward for reasons unspecified, the dream showed Gail at school, and Gail in the hospital. She woke up in a sweat as Gail, in the dream, had found herself on that same adult male ward.

She opened her eyes and confirmed she was indeed in a room by herself. Clearly her dreaming must have accelerated her heart rate and Vikki came into the room.

"Good morning, now what's happened to your pulse?" It was rhetorical, Gail guessed, so just tried to shrug, badly.

"Now, I'm off in a few minutes and Jules will your morning nurse, you'll like her. I'll order some breakfast for you, tea, yoghurt, cereal?"

"Yes, thanks."

Breakfast was delivered some 20 minutes later by a nurse who breezed in, and out, in the space of a few seconds. By the time she returned, Gail had finished the reduced calorie offering. This time she was carrying the day's Guardian, dropping it on a chair.

"Good morning, I'm Jules. Right, let's get you cleaned up." She cleared away the waste and used wipes to clean Gail's face and hands.

"Can I have the catheter removed?" Gail again pointed towards her groin.

"As soon as the doctor agrees, he'll be round by nine."

"Can I sit right up, then?"

"Well, your blood pressure seems to have settled, if you get light-headed at all then we'll have to lie you back down, okay?"

Jules helped Gail shuffle up the bed, having hit a button to tilt the head of the bed up. Before she left the room she handed Gail the newspaper.

Gail hadn't got very far into the news when the door opened and Dr Fox, the shrink, walked into the room.

"Hello again Gail, this is a surprise."

"I wouldn't call it a surprise."

"Bad choice of words, then." She pulled up a chair and sat down next to Gail, "mind if I continue where we left off on Monday?"

"Doesn't look like I'm due in a meeting in the next half hour."

"Ha ha. Now, it's not been a full week since you adopted Gail full-time, so how are you doing?"

"Fine, my name has been changed and I'm busy deleting David from my life."

"Oh, is that a little drastic?"

"Not when there's a contract out on David's life."

"I see, so this is reactionary and not thought through properly?"

"No, there's a plan, but I'm afraid you're not cleared for it."

"We'll see about that."

Gail exercised her lungs, "Guard?"

The door opened immediately and a man quickly assessed the situation. "Yes, Miss Jones?"

"The doctor is just leaving, ensure she doesn't return."

"Certainly, Miss. Dr Fox, I believe you're no longer wanted."

"I am cleared for the Met Police and I won't be treated like that, I also have a clinic in this hospital."

"That's as may be, madam, but this is not a Police matter any more so your complaints are groundless. Now, either leave or my two colleagues will assist you."

Two proto-Neanderthals, carrying sub-machine guns, had appeared in the corner of the room. Dr Fox reluctantly moved towards the doorway.

"You've not seen the last of me!" Unfortunately she apparently misjudged her feet because she ended up spread-eagle in the corridor.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 5

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Bond, Gail Bond
 

"So Gail, what went on with you and Dr Fox earlier this morning?" Dr Hughes was back in the hospital room, accompanied by Nurse Jules, and was unplugging Gail from various tubes and machines.

"I didn't like her attitude, plus I reckon I'd already told her more than I should."

"Sounds like you've had the level 1 security briefing!"

"I did, what's level 2?"

"There isn't a level 1, 2 or anything. I made that bit up. Now, you're a bit tetchy so I'll be give you something to relax, we'll use a treatment room just down the hall."

"Can I have a wee first?"

"You could have used the bag?"

"I wasn't keen on the catheter, I've heard bad reports about what it can do to you."

"Okay, I'll accept that, but the nurse will have to help you."

Gail resigned herself to the intimate inspection, but Jules had plainly already seen that Gail was not 'all woman', without querying anything. A few minutes later Gail was loaded into a wheelchair and taken along the corridor. Now she could see the security team that was in place, some of them looked positively evil, it also looked as if none of the other side-rooms were in use.

Nurse Jules whispered, "it's a closed ward, not enough money to run it all the time."

A few minutes later, and feeling a little better, Gail was assisted onto the table in the treatment room and prepared for the minor procedure. Dr Hughes had been joined by two men in surgical scrubs, one of whom now injected into the cannula in Gail's left hand.

"This is just a little sedative to relax you, I'll now use a local anaesthetic in your sac." He was plainly the anaesthetist.

Ten minutes later, they had completed the removal of Gail's, formerly David's, testes and put a couple of stitches in to close the small hole. A little 'super-glue' was then used, finally a dressing was applied.

"Perfect, it looks like someone had some waxing done this week?" Dr Hughes made the comment to no-one in particular.

Gail was reloaded, slightly dopey, into the wheelchair and taken back to her room to rest and recover from the anaesthetic.

About 1pm nurse Jules gently woke Gail, "how are you feeling now?"

"Hmmmmm, fine I think. What time is it?"

"Lunchtime. Want anything?"

"Tea please."

"Okay, I'll arrange that. Can you sit up by yourself?"

Gail shuffled up the bed, then remembered the earlier procedure and went to feel her groin.

"No, leave alone for now, otherwise you might re-open the wound. Dr Hughes is coming back around in an hour or so to see you."

"Right, I guess I'll still be here."

"Quite. I've left a pen in case you want to try the crossword." Gail reached over and picked up the morning's paper, although she was still not fully recovered. In the end, with six clues completed, she put The Guardian back down, and dozed.

At almost three in the afternoon, Dr Hughes arrived with Jenny. Gail woke due to the increased noise level in the room but was happy to see familiar faces, the smile on her face said so.

"Right Gail, let's check you over and see about releasing you from here." He spent fifteen minutes with her, including extracting some blood and checking her vitals. He finally asked Gail to go to the toilet unaided, satisfied, he told Jenny to arrange her transport.

"Gail, I'll see you in a day or so at the house. I believe there's some medical history that we need to cover. In the meantime, I'm increasing your iron tablets to 200mg twice daily. I'm still concerned about your hormone levels and I'll have these latest bloods thoroughly checked. Finally, I'll arrange for a different gender counsellor to see you. Dr Fox's role has been terminated, indeed I'm concerned that she knew you were at Northwick Park."

"Glad for that."

Jenny returned with a different nurse and a wheel-chair, Gail was handed a dressing gown and slippers and helped into the chair. With Gail loaded, they descended using a goods lift and went to a loading bay, where a minibus waited. Gail was wheeled aboard and the chair strapped down. Jenny, the nurse plus two officers joined her in the back and they were soon on their way. As before, the windows were tinted and Gail had little idea of where they were going.

***

Gail must have dozed again as she was startled by the change in noise as the minibus entered the underground access and pulled up. Gail was unloaded, still in the wheelchair, down a ramp to a small lift. She exited the lift on the same floor as her room, next to the medical room, but couldn't see behind her what it looked like.

Back in her room she was gently washed then dressed by the nurse in a clean nightie but left on top of her bed. Again she dozed, but a simple meal was brought to her after six and the nurse returned to remind Gail to take her iron tablets.

"Sorry, I don't know your name?"

"I'm Anna, Miss Jones, and I'll be on call for you."

"I'm sure I don't need a personal nurse?"

"It's doctor's orders, Miss, plus I'm also part of your protection detail.".

This was getting way too strange and surreal for Gail who was now worryingly certain she was in a Bond movie, Mission Impossible or something similar.

"Okay, thanks."

Gail finished her meal and put the tray on the dresser while she went to wash and wee. She walked back into the bedroom, and was surprised to see someone sat on her bed.

"Good evening Gail, are you fit enough to talk?"

"I think so Helen, what's up?"

Helen motioned to Gail to get herself back into bed, "Doctor's orders," she said. Gail was concerned, Helen was not her usual jovial self.

"What's happened?"

"There's no easy way of putting this, an hour after we left Northwick Park Hospital an RPG was launched through the window of your room."

"RPG?"

"Rocket propelled grenade. It just about destroyed the room, thankfully no-one was on the floor of that wing when it happened."

"My god! They were after me?"

"It seems that way."

"How did they know?"

"We're working on it but that shrink, Dr Fox, is now missing. We're not even certain how she knew you were in the hospital, you weren't checked in under Gail, Abigail, Abi or anything similar."

"Am I safe here?"

"Yes, so far as we can be certain. Our vehicles do not use a direct route here and as you'll already realise we don't use the main entrance for access. Having said that, your security is under constant review."

"That's re-assuring, but for how long will I be useful? It won't take me forever to finish going through the Fourani data."

"Gail, don't you worry about that. We've got plans for you that I'm sure you'll agree to."

"Do tell."

"Not yet, it's officially a work-in-progress. Anyway, I have some good news for you."

"I'm all ears."

"Remember I said that your office and bedsit were under offer? Well, the sale will complete on Monday so you'll be £250,000 better off, less some estate agency fee. I've also had the settlement from your home insurance company, so that £12,500 plus the rent deposit of £2000 are in my office account at the moment."

"Sounds good."

"It gets better, I'm setting up new accounts for you as Miss Abigail Adams, I'll move £12k into a savings account and leave the rest in the current account, for now, but you 'll be able to move it around as you see fit. Your first payment of £2,500 from the Security Service has also been made into that account, so do you fancy some more shopping?"

"I'm still waiting to see the last lot!"

Helen stood and walked over to one of the wardrobes, throwing it open, "ta-da! I brought them over this afternoon. Don't worry about trying anything yet, that can wait until tomorrow. Oh, I added a few bits to the original order including a leotard and exercise togs, I guess you might want to use the gym?"

"I had mentioned that to Jenny."

"Okay, that's enough excitement for now, I suggest you get some rest."

"If you insist, Doctor!"

"Cheek!"

Helen left Gail to her thoughts, the most prominent of which was the whereabouts of Doctor Fox and how the news of her stay at the hospital was leaked. She dozed off trying to rationalise unknowns.

***

Saturday morning arrived overcast and certainly not the summery day it should have been. Gail was left until 8am when the maid, Lisa, brought her a cup of tea and a copy of The Guardian.

"Good morning Miss, I'll go and fetch your breakfast now you're awake."

With that she was gone. Gail sipped her tea and turned over the paper to see the headline, which concerned the attack on Northwick Park Hospital.

Gail started reading the article, but there was scant information and tons of conjecture, with neither the hospital management nor the police admitting to knowing very much about the terrorist act. Her breakfast arrived just after she'd dashed into the loo for an overdue wee. There was a note on the tray, Gail unfolded the paper to read the message, "don't forget the iron tablets! Jenny".

It was nine o'clock by the time she'd finished the meal, the first order of business was a good long shower.

There was a knock on the door as Gail stepped out of the shower, she quickly wrapped herself in a towel before inviting the waiting person into her bedroom. Her visitor was Nurse Anna, "I've come to check the wound, I guess the dressing has come off?"

"Yes, can I just dry myself off first?"

"Sure."

Gail knew she was being silly, but she was uncomfortable having the girl there, even if she was a nurse and would have seen every version of the human body by the time she had finished training. She went back into the bathroom to complete her drying, regretting not having a clean nightie to put on, or even clean underwear. Oh well.

She hung up the towel, wrapped a smaller one around her head and walked back into the bedroom.

"Can you get on the bed," asked Anna, who was now putting on a pair of medical gloves. She took Gail's blood pressure then examined the site of the minor operation, declaring it clean and healing nicely.

"No need for a dressing as such, but can you use a pantyliner for a few days and change it at least twice daily? If there's any blood or discharge on it then you must let me know. Okay?"

"Yes, but I don't have any pantyliners?"

"You do, there's a new box in the bathroom. Do you know how to put them in?"

"I think so."

Gail grabbed some clean underwear and checked the box of liners, correctly identifying how it went, hardly rocket science but a new experience nevertheless.

***

An hour later Gail walked into the conservatory with her newspaper, the overcast sky had turned to rain and creating a drumming sound on the glass roof. Gail found the sound strangely comforting, given the strange world that she seemed to inhabit at the moment. Her mind was cast back to the previous Sunday when she was on a train heading for the Essex coast, pursued by two criminals who were now in prison cells - hopefully.

Lisa had seen Gail's arrival at the rear of the large house and obviously informed Jenny, the housekeeper, who arrived with a pot of coffee on a tray.

"Did you see my note?"

"Yes, Jenny, thank you for the reminder."

"That's alright, just don't give us another scare, okay?"

"I'll try not to. Is there anything for me to do today?"

"You are not to go into the library until tomorrow at the earliest, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And swimming is out of the question for a few more days."

"Yes."

"But you're cleared to sit, read, and chat, just nothing to excess."

"Understood."

Jenny left Gail to continue her digestion of the Saturday paper, by 11 she'd completed most of the main section, leaving only 6 supplements to handle. By now her eyes were suffering so she put the paper down, eventually falling asleep.

Gail stirred when someone sat next to her. When she'd fully woken she found the nurse, there was also a blanket over Gail.

"What time is it?"

"One o'clock. I suggest you go up to your room."

"What about lunch?"

"I suspect you couldn't handle lunch at the moment?"

"Perhaps not a full lunch?"

"You go on up, I'll ask the kitchen to do you some soup."

"Okay, okay." Gail wobbled slightly before regaining her balance and toddled back up to her room.

Lisa arrived with a bowl of soup ten minutes later, but Gail was curled on top of her bed. Lisa placed a blanket over her and returned the soup to the kitchen.

***

Gail did awake a few hours later, and made it to the dining room where she pushed her dinner around the plate for half an hour before giving up. She did however accept and finish a banana that was given to her.

The day effectively ended there, she went to her room and changed into a nightie, remembering to swap her pantyliner for a clean one. Her bed had been changed and there were fresh towels in the bathroom. She slid under the duvet and was off into dreamland shortly after.

 
Reject
 

Sunday morning was much brighter than the previous day and that morning's cup of tea arrived just after seven.

"The kitchen would like to know if you would like breakfast in your room again, Miss?"

"Thank you Lisa but I'll be down today, I'm feeling a bit better."

So began another day. Despite Gail's statement, she was not fully recovered, so didn't take any risks. That meant a little common sense was needed, no swimming, no working in the library and generally taking it easy; she was sure no-one would complain.

Gail had just finished breakfast when Helen arrived, accompanied by DS Emily Keane; this was not a social call. "The conservatory, please." It wasn't a request either.

Emily kicked off the meeting. "I believe Helen has briefed you so far?" "Yes." "Right, we have CCTV of the attackers but they were in camouflage kit so their faces were obscured, their vehicle had been stolen a few hours earlier."

Helen was staying quiet. "So that's a dead end?"

"No, we had a stroke of luck. They drove onto the M25 and went past one of our unmarked cars, which triggered an automatic stolen vehicle alert. They crashed whilst being chased and we have them in custody."

"Sounds good, but I suspect there's a catch."

"We believe they're Iranian however they're not speaking and have no ID on them."

"Iranian? Oh."

"Quite." Emily agreed.

"What about Dr Fox?"

"She's still missing but now a nurse has also gone missing, or rather failed to report for her next two shifts without explanation."

"Is that connected?"

"Maybe, it turns out that she's half British, half Iranian, and we believe she was one of the nurses that went to your room."

"Oh, heck."

"Now, Gail, in the accounts that you have gone through, do you remember any bank transfers or cheques that looked like maintenance payments? I suspect there may be some maintenance paid? We're thinking this nurse may be family, or the result of a relationship a few decades ago."

"Not that I can recall."

"Some of the guys at HQ are looking through the bank statements looking for payments but it wouldn't do any harm for you to do the same - tomorrow."

Helen now spoke, "Gail, the security service is taking the lead in the search for this nurse, as well as Dr Fox. We'll find them. In the meantime our assessment of your security remains valid."

"In English, does that mean I'm safe?"

"Err, yes."

The meeting broke up, although only DS Keane left.

"Come on girl, let's try some of these new clothes on?"

Gail sighed, her energy levels weren't back up to full as yet. "After lunch please."

"Okay, okay, sorry if I'm a little pushy."

"Accepted. I'm going upstairs for a doze," she also needed to take her iron tablets, something that had slipped her mind earlier.

***

It was around midday when Gail was fully awake, although the knocking on her door may have helped.

"Hello? Come in."

Doctor Hughes and Nurse Anna walked in, carrying some equipment, medical equipment, obviously.

"Hello Gail, how are you today?"

It always seemed to be a pointless question from a medical professional, as 90% of the time they could tell at a glance, the standard answer being about as much use as a damp paper bag.

"Fine, I guess."

"I'm not so sure about that. Let's give you the once over?"

So, two minutes later her blood pressure and pulse had been noted. Asking Gail to stand, her weight was taken and finally several vials of blood were drawn.

"Blood pressure is up, good. Right, can you lie back down so we can check the wound?"

Not the most dignified thing Gail had ever done, but she complied nonetheless.

"Very good. Keep using the pads for a few more days but tell Anna or me immediately if you see any blood or other discharge?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Now, we have the results of the bloods taken on Thursday and Friday, although there's little to choose between them. This confirms you have entered the andropause, male menopause if you wish, and your testosterone levels were down to 15% of normal before the orchidectomy. This goes some way to explain your tiredness and drop in blood pressure."

"What's the fix?"

"That's a question that I'm not strictly qualified to answer. Hormone treatment is the broad answer but how it's achieved requires a hormone specialist and a large degree of certainty from yourself."

"Certainty of what?"

"That you want to remain as Gail, live as a female? After all, we're barely over a week down from when you took this persona full-time."

The nurse elbowed the doctor as Gail started crying.

"Look what you've done, leave me with her."

Reluctantly the doctor left the room.

"Gail, here's a tissue - good job you don't have any mascara on today! Come on, dry your eyes and let's talk."

"I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"Err, what does he want me to say?"

"Nothing, Gail, nothing. He was just a little insensitive, he means no harm."

"So what's next?"

"Your health is number one priority, but you are going to have to make a choice soon, but hear me out. Are you comfortable as Gail?"

"Yes."

"Would you consider being David again?"

"No."

"Simple as that? I don't think it's as clear cut as that, which is why you will meet a specialist later this week."

"Obviously not Dr Fox?"

"Plainly not."

"Good."

"There, now how about you have a wash, put on some slap and come down for lunch?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, some good food will contribute towards your recovery."

It was another twenty minutes before a refreshed Gail made her way to the dining room, although it was still empty. Jenny passed and told her there was a ten minute delay so she walked back to the conservatory where the sun was streaming through the glass roof.

There were some quiet greetings from those present, but everyone seemed to have been warned not to engage Gail too quickly in conversation, just let her get comfortable first. The nett effect of which was to make Gail suspect something was going on. She was about to speak up when Jenny appeared in the doorway.

"Lunch is served."

***

Conversation had returned to somewhere near normal, although any discussion of Gail's health - physical or mental - was definitely off the menu. She finally received the day's Observer newspaper and settled back in the conservatory to peruse it, not really up for a full in depth analysis of the news. Any attempt of the crossword would have been pointless on this day.

Her eyes were starting to suffer a little, when she put down the paper, wondering if she shouldn't have had her eyes checked several years earlier? Leaving the conservatory, she found Helen in the hallway.

"I'm about as ready as I'll ever be to do this fashion show!"

"Great, lead the way!"

Two hours later, there was a pile of rejects and a 'maybe' pile.

"That was hard work, but fun."

"See honey, I knew you'd get into this lark. I'll arrange the returns unless you want to change your mind about anything there." She waved at the reject pile. "And it's your last chance with the other pile."

"No, I think we now know what suits me."

"Ha ha! Not so fast! You've got much to learn Miss Jones."

What was left was around three quarters of the previous week's online shopping experience, with every top, skirt, trousers and frock checked. The leotard and undies could await until needed.

Helen scooped up the unwanted items and bade farewell, she wouldn't be at dinner. Gail climbed onto the bed and promptly dozed off.
Leads

Gail was feeling more lively on Monday, almost a week since she'd arrived at this country house. She wanted to get back to some research, particularly if she could help in the investigation concerning her attempted murder, some irony indeed.

The house seemed unusually quiet and Gail was alone for breakfast, which was odd, the only others she'd seen so far today were Lisa and Jenny, neither of whom used the dining room for meals.

Before settling into the library, she decided on a walk. She actually had a mission this morning, which was to find the fitness room. In the end it wasn't hidden at all, just in an area she hadn't looked before. Out of the conservatory, and to the left, was a covered walkway to a single story wooden building.

Putting her head in the door she found the recently arrived nurse on a running machine, although she seemed to be in a mind of her own, listening to music via headphones. Glancing around, Anna suddenly saw Gail and stepped back from the machine's panel, which cut the motor.

"Safety cord," she said, explaining the item that was tied to her.

"Oh," replied Gail, "I've never used one of these before."

"I'll show you but you are not cleared to use any of the kit here until Doctor Hughes says so."

"Understood."

Anna gave Gail the tour, although several of the machines looked as if they had counterparts in all the best medieval torture chambers. They returned to the pair of running machines.

"Tell you what, even though you're not dressed for it, if I start you on a walking pace you can get the idea of it. Nothing fancy. Hold on while I connect the safety cord."

Gail had ten minutes on there at a medium walking pace, it was clear that she wasn't in shape but strenuous exercise was out of the question for now. Maybe a gentle swim tomorrow?

Walking back along the walkway, instead of heading back to the conservatory she followed the path to a door on the side of the house. It was locked and bore a security sign warning access to pass holders only. Strange, as Gail hadn't seen any passes other than the police ID cards that were usually found around the necks of officers.

Walking back to the conservatory, she now saw metal shuttering that could be closed, effectively sealing the glassed room off. She was learning more about the building each day, but not about her future. Even so, she was trusting Helen with her financial interests and felt that Emily was keeping her up-to-date with the police investigations. Finally, as Gail closed the conservatory door she considered just how much had happened, and how her life had drastically changed in little over a week.

She sank into one of the chairs, re-positioned a cushion and slept lightly, waking when she felt someone in the room with her.

"Good morning Miss, it's just gone eleven and I though you might like a coffee?"

Gail rubbed her eyes. "Thank you Lisa."

The coffee was a little stronger today, perhaps a new blend, and Gail felt a buzz as she drank. She refilled her empty cup and took it, re-invigorated, into the library.

For the first time since Thursday morning that Gail had been in this room, and even earlier than that when she'd done any research into the Fourani accounts. After firing up her laptop a few emails from Dave Brown arrived, one was an email saying not to worry about getting anything done for a few days - plainly regarding her hospitalization - the other was a plea for any help locating the suspected family connection to the nurse.

That email included the name of the missing nurse, Fatima Hussaini-Davis, Gail couldn't recall seeing the name Fatima, nor any of its' derivatives, but did recall several payments to an individual named Davison. She went back to the 2005-6 spreadsheet and conducted a search.

The results showed several, seemingly random, payments by cheque to 'J. Davison' during the period she was examining. The amounts varied from £100 to £2100 and were all recorded as "services rendered". Gail made a note of the cheque numbers, plus the relevant originating bank account numbers. She then checked 2006-7, finding similar payments, although the later ones were direct account transfers, the last payment was in 2007. However, she now had a bank account number for 'Davison'.

Gail gleefully typed this information into an email and sent it to Dave Brown's team at MI5. She then sat back, taking her eyes of the screen, and wondered how she could justify this connection? Apart from the similarity of 'Davis' and 'Davison', she had very little reason for her joy. After a few minutes her self-doubt was rampant. Gail restarted her search but could find nothing else.

Her laptop pinged and Gail clicked to open a new email.
 

Thanks Gail,
 
From your information, we've identified J, Davison as Janet Husseini Davison, also known as Janet Davis. It would seem she was a student at the London School of Economics the same time as Hamiz Fourani. It also seems that Fatima is Janet's and Hamiz's daughter even though Janet married another Iranian at the time. My team now have several leads to follow, great work.

Dave

 
Gail started to sob, but in this case it was because she'd realised that sometimes a little faith can lead to the truth. Now, where had that come from? She grabbed a couple of tissues from a nearby box and dabbed her eyes, realising that she'd done enough today. Picking up her cold coffee cup she started to walk back to the conservatory.

Jenny seemed to be waiting in the hallway, "Ah Gail, lunch is in a few minutes and I'll take that cup."

Gail had almost finished her lunch, a simple bean salad, when Helen arrived, seemingly up to date.

"Well done Gail, brilliant work!"

"It wasn't that good, I was finding it hard to justify what I'd sent."

"No, you don't understand. You identified something that got your interest, and you ran with it. Because of that, there's an operation in full swing at the moment."

"If I helped a little, then I suppose I've earned my fee?"

"I'd say it's better than that, Janet Davis, or whatever name she's using now, was convicted six years ago of supplying Class A narcotics. The informant was Hamed Fourani. She was eventually released six months ago, it would have been sooner but she managed to supply cocaine whilst at East Sutton Park Prison in Kent and was convicted of that too."

"Oh."

"Oh yes, so your little nugget has opened up the investigation somewhat. Well done." Helen reached over and gave Gail a hug.

"Now, why don't we celebrate and do some shopping?"

Back in the library, Helen used Gail's laptop once again to access online clothing stores, as well as a large pharmacy chain's website.

"What do I need from here?" Asked Gail.

"Well, it's time for another womanhood lesson. You need some more make-up, a manicure set, more nail varnishes, some hair clips and bands; just for starters. You need to be able to slightly alter your look depending on where you're going and what you might be doing there."

"I see, I just tended to use the same look every week in the clubs as I was comfortable doing it that way."

"It might not matter as much in a dark club, but it sure as hell matters at social events, business meetings or High Street shopping."

"I think I'll need some help."

"Already sorted, just working out which day the style consultant can see you."

"Here?"

"No, in this case it'll have to be somewhere neutral, like a hotel room, as her brief will be quite restricted."

"Fair enough, but at least I'll get a day out!"

"Exactly. Now, let's choose what you need then move onto the clothing, I don't think you have any sun dresses? Don't forget purses and bags! How about an MP3 player and some music?"

The next two hours were filled with giggles from the library, until Gail declared that her eyes had done enough.

"That's about another £650 we've spent, but as I said before money isn't an issue,"

"What about the sale of my office?"

"The funds were in my account this morning."

"So how much am I worth?"

"Right now, a little over quarter of a million pounds. I've moved the latest money to your new savings account so that will earn interest straight away."

"Which bank is it?"

"We're using the Trustees First Bank for your accounts at the moment, but keeping an option of moving to Coutts when your assets improve, for better security."

"Coutts? Isn't that the Queen's bank?"

"That's what I heard."

"Can we get out of here?" Gail signalled it was the library she was referring to.

"Sure, fancy a walk?"

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 6

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Tender Loving Care
 

Helen and Gail managed to spend an hour in the grounds, mostly sitting near the lakeside watching the swans.

"The swans are great if we get an intruder during the night!"

"Does that happen?"

"Once in a while, opportunist thieves who think the place is unoccupied. We have a set of procedures to deal with such events and let the local police handle it, collecting the idiot at our rear gate."

"What do the local plod think this place is?"

"The official line is that the family are away on business most of the year leaving the housekeeper and garden staff to look after the place. There's very few deliveries or welcomed visitors."

"Simple and succinct."

"Exactly."

They made it back indoors with enough time to freshen before the evening meal. Gail had been warned to leave alcohol alone for a while and no wine was on the table. Helen left the house after joining Gail for dinner, promising to see her later in the week.

With nothing else to do, Gail went to her room, wishing she had that MP3 player already. She tried to read the paper, even attempted the crossword, but gave up. By eight pm she'd fallen off to sleep, after remembering her iron tablets.

----

Gail was sitting at the breakfast table on Tuesday morning, glancing through the day's paper when Jenny walked up to her.

"Gail, I've been informed that there are several appointments today and I've been trying to schedule them to avoid clashes, I have a list of them for you."
 

10.00 Doctor Hughes
11.00 Beautician
15.00 DS Keane
17.00 Miss Gardner

 
"Miss Gardner?"

"She's the optician who was here last week."

"Oh. Thank you Jenny, but don't I get a say in who I see?"

"I'm afraid that each of these people has asked to see you, but can't always be flexible in their timing. If there was someone you wanted to see, subject to security concerns, I'm sure we could accommodate them."

Gail dead-panned, "that's okay, I don't have an over bearing need to see Her Majesty at the moment."

Jenny paused for a moment, trying to work out if Gail was being humorous, and allowed a little laugh before rapidly leaving the room. Gail picked up her paper and tea cup before heading for the conservatory.

The Doctor arrived a few minutes late looking flustered.

"Damn M25, it was a lousy car-park again this morning."

Gail noted the reference, still trying to work out where she was.

"Can we go to the medical room?"

Upstairs they found Anna, her nurse, waiting by the examination table. First item was an inspection of Gail's groin, checking the site of the orchidectomy that had been performed a few days earlier.

"Very good, I'd suggest using the pads for a few more days but I don't need to look again unless you have any discomfort, if needed you can contact me through Anna. You can put your underwear back on and get down."

As Gail stepped down she was motioned by the doctor to sit by his desk.

"Now, there are some gaps in your medical history that I'd like to fill. Did you have any illnesses as a child?"

"Just the usual, measles and mumps I think."

"Mumps? How severe?"

"I had to go to hospital for a few days, but I don't remember any details. I was off school for quite a few weeks and missed a school trip to London Zoo."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven I think."

"If it was that severe, it could have affected your testes so they wouldn't mature properly. Did you go into hospital for any other reason?"

"I was bullied at secondary school and pushed over alot but one time I was kicked on the ground in my groin and my arm was broken."

"How old then?"

"Fourteen, no just I had just turned fifteen."

"Which hospital?"

"The Royal London. They put me in an adult surgical ward as the children's ward was full. It was horrendous, I was afraid every night that someone would do something to me, as some of the adults would come over to my bed once the nurses had gone for their break."

Gail was clearly reliving one of her worst experiences, shaking in her seat. Anna came over and held her hand.

"Gail, if it's too much we can finish this session now."

"No, I want to tell it, it's the first time I've told anyone."

Dr Hughes asked "did you not tell your mother?"

"No, she never believed me when I told her what was happening at school, the bullies and the horrible teachers, so why would she believe anything from the hospital? The only time she came to see me was when I was being sent home, and even then she didn't want to."

"Why do you think that?"

"I know it as one of the nurses was discussing it with a doctor near my bed, they thought I was asleep."

"What about your father?"

"He was hardly at home, and took the same stance as my mother. I felt I was no good as a son for him."

The conversation was rapidly heading away from the medical interview that the doctor had wanted and Anna started signalling Doctor Hughes to finish. Anna poured a cup of water and handed it to Gail, along with a tissue to dry her eyes.

"Gail, we'll leave it there as I don't want to upset you further."

"Thank you."

"There's a couple of things to do before we're finished, though."

The doctor took Gail's blood pressure and pulse, then Anna extracted another sample of blood.

"One last thing, the new gender specialist will be here tomorrow but I don't have a time yet. If you like Anna can be in the room with you?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay, we're done. Oh, almost forgot, you are cleared to swim and do light exercise, nothing strenuous you hear!"

The doctor left the room with the sample in his bag. Anna took Gail's arm and led her to her bedroom, seating her at the dressing table.

"Now Gail, let's get your face clean and make you pretty again." A box of facial wipes was ready for use, swiftly followed by fresh make-up. Anna gave Gail advice as she remade her face.

"Thank you Anna."

"That's what friends are for."

That was the cue for a mutual hug.

There was a knock on the door and Diane entered.

"Hi Gail."

"Hi Diane, this is Anna my nurse."

"Hello. Right Gail, I was going to give you a few lessons today but it seems I'm not needed!"

Anna replied, "Gail just needed some TLC. I'll be off now, don't forget Gail you can speak to me day or night."

"Thanks Anna."

"Bye Anna," Diane said, then she turned to Gail, "you've had those breast forms on for almost a week now, it's time we removed them and let your skin breathe."

"I've become quite used to them."

"Maybe you'll have your own one day?"

"Soon I hope!"

"That would require a minor miracle or surgery, neither of which is likely right now. Right, let's have your top and bra off."

When Gail redressed, she was using a padded bra that gave the resemblance of a bust but Gail knew it wasn't the same.

"My own nipples feel sensitive."

"That's quite normal after wearing the forms for a prolonged period. I'm staying tonight so I'll reattach them tomorrow. Fancy a swim in the morning?"

"I've just been cleared to use the pool, so yes."

"Cleared?"

"I had a medical problem last week and it seems I've recovered sufficiently to exercise again."

"Okay. Fancy a walk?"

They talked as the pair walked down towards the lake, occasionally seeing the ground staff looking their way. Gail told Diane about her collapse and hospitalization, finishing with the attack on her room.

"They were after you? That's twice now."

"Three times, I think."

"Yeak! You poor thing, Gail."

"They say I'm safe here, but it's what happens after I leave here that worries me."

They walked on, finding a summerhouse nestling by the high wall at the farthest point from the house. One of the groundsmen was working on it.

"I didn't notice this before?"

"It's new, Miss Jones, delivered at the end of last week and erected at the weekend. It'll be ready for use in a few days when the power and the security system is installed."

"Oh, thank you."

They walked on, eventually coming back towards the conservatory. Gail led Diane to the fitness suite.

"I found it yesterday."

"Fancy using it later?"

"Maybe."

They had entered the conservatory when lunch was called.

Gail excused herself after lunch and returned to her analysis of the Fourani accounts. Various properties were bought and sold, rather quickly in several cases, with one property sold for just £10. Gail thought this was odd and looked further. The purchaser was the missing nurse, named as Fatima Davis in the documents. she emailed this gem to Dave Brown immediately.

Further research showed repeated transactions with Bader Logistik Dusseldorf GmbH in 2008 and 2009, the limit of the research so far. Gail logged them and added these transactions to a longer email that she was writing.

A ping indicated there was a new incoming message, Gail opened it.
 

Hi Gail
 
Thanks for that address, it's a different one to the address the hospital personnel office had, which turned out to be a dead letter drop. I've asked that police go there ASAP.
 
Dave

 

Gail allowed herself a smile. It was approaching 3pm when she closed the laptop down and left the library.

 
Good News, Bad News
 

After leaving the library, Gail headed for her room to freshen up as the library had been quite humid, the summer was definitely here. The first thing she noticed upon entering the room was that a television now sat on a chest of drawers. A remote control was on a bedside cabinet.

She turned it on and switched to BBC Radio 2 while she went into the bathroom for a wee and a wash, before changing her mind and stepping into the shower for the second time that day. After she'd dressed and finished for make-up, Gail grabbed the TV remote and switched to the BBC rolling news channel.

".... dramatic scenes in East London this afternoon as armed police raid a terraced house in Bow. We have an eye-witness video from the scene."

Gail made herself comfortable to watch the story but her phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Miss Jones, the DS is here to see you, she'll be in the lounge."

"Thank you Jenny, I'll be a few minutes. I just found the telly, by the way."

"Yes, it was a bit of an oversight I'm afraid."

Gail switched off the TV, not convinced by Jenny's words and reluctantly went downstairs.

"Ah Gail, do sit down, I'm sorry I'm a bit late."

Gail sat next to Emily Keane who had a laptop with her, a bright yellow network cable disappeared off to a hidden data outlet on the wall. A photo on the screen was of the property in Bow.

"I was just watching that on BBC News."

"Yes, it's the address you provided. We have some good news, let me play you the video taken by the assault team, it's just been emailed to me."

The action was immediate as a battering ram took the door off its' hinges, followed by a stun grenade. Heavily armed officers entered a second later. There was the sound of a shot and a scream, then the cameraman managed to reach one of the rear rooms. Sat there, bound and gagged, was Dr Fox the shrink, behind her and rolling on the floor was another woman. The camera got closer and captured a constant flow of apparent insults in a language Gail identified as Farsi. The woman's face came into focus and Gail recalled the nurse who she'd seen at the hospital the previous Thursday.

"That's her, Fatima?"

"Yes."

"I think I heard a shot."

"She had grabbed a large knife so one of the officers opened fire and caught her arm. She's being treated for that now before being taken to Paddington Green for interview."

"What's happening with Dr Fox?"

"We're waiting to interview her but she's being checked over at the Royal London."

"I'm glad she's safe, despite what I said last week."

"There's more, when we searched the house we found Fatima's mother Janet Davis upstairs trying to flush cocaine packets down the toilet. We found 10kg of coke and a fair assortment of other drugs in the house. She's now helping us with our enquiries and will be going straight back to prison as she's on parole."

"Good news indeed."

"All down to you, it would seem."

"Just a lucky hit while I was looking at the accounts."

"Don't play yourself down Gail, you'll make a great analyst, a forensic accountant if you wish."

"I still don't think I'm worthy of this praise."

"You are worthy, Gail, let me tell you what else we have found out, one of the men who fired the RPG at the hospital is Janet Davis' husband, Iqbal Hussein. His documents were in the house and it looked like he'd been there recently. The forensic teams are going over the house at the moment."

"What about the other man at the hospital?"

"He's been identified now as Iqbal Hussein's brother, an Iranian living in Germany. The Bundespolizei had a match on his fingerprints when we asked them to check. We'll be seeking a deportation order for him, once he's served his time."

"It keeps coming back to Germany, doesn't it."

"Yes."

"So what else is there?"

"In terms of operations? We're still searching several premises and interviewing those we arrested last week on the basis of new information. It also looks as if we've made a great dent in the supply of arms and drugs in London and that's really good news."

"What are the press being told?"

"We're treating each operation as completely separate but it won't be long before a journalist joins the dots."

"Oh, what about my involvement?"

"David has been recorded as missing, last seen in Essex."

"So am I old news?"

"Yes, but the Hackney Gazette has published a story asking if anyone's seen you."

"Typical, they wouldn't run a story about my business but now have editorial on me as I'm missing."

"Remember Gail, newspapers don't want good news, as bad news sells more papers."

Emily closed the lid of her laptop and was plainly preparing to leave, Gail took the hint and bade farewell. Jenny was outside the room.

"Just to let you know, Miss Gardner won't be here today after all, she'll be here tomorrow."

"Thank you."

That was to be Gail's 5pm appointment but she was at a loose end now. Diane solved that by suggesting a visit to the fitness suite, but first Gail had to change. In her room she found the leotard that Diane suggested she wore, and a pair of footless tights. Gail struggled with the leotard then had to take it back off as she'd forgotten to put the tights on first. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in Diane."

"I take it this is the first time you've worn a leotard?"

"Yes, and I look and feel like a right idiot."

"No you don't, but you could do with some sports socks and a pair of sports shoes." She rummaged in Gail's wardrobe, finding a pair of soft soled trainers. "Grab a towel."

Gail's and Diane's opinions about what constituted a 'gentle workout' seemed to be completely different things. Gail concentrated on the running machine, not feeling able to do any upper body exercises. Diane reached over and changed the incline to 5% which Gail immediately found difficult, she hit the stop button after a minute.

"What did you do that for?" Gail was panting and sweating badly.

"No pain, no gain?"

Anna chose that moment to enter the fitness suite and ran straight to Gail, she pulled a water bottle out of her bag and insisted Gail drink it. Anna then turned to Diane and gave her daggers.

"What do you think you were doing?"

"Just some exercise?"

"The instruction was for light exercise, not torture. Gail isn't ready for the heavy stuff so soon after her collapse and hospital stay." She turned back to Gail, "come with me to your room and let's get you in the shower."

Anna helped Gail, who was starting to recover, and insisted Gail had a shower, her third, whilst Anna remained in her room. She then suggested Gail put on a nightie and have an hour's rest before going down for dinner, Anna drew the curtains and left Gail to doze. Anna decided she would check Gail's blood pressure later but at least her patient's pulse had now returned to normal.

Shortly after 5.30pm the phone rang, Gail reached over.

"Intruder alert, intruder alert. Report to safe room immediately." The message repeated.

Her bedroom door opened and Jenny was stood there with Anna, who was now armed. "Get your dressing gown on and come with us immediately."

Gail was led quickly down to the swimming pool. Jenny pulled Gail to the far wall and a hidden doorway opened, an armed man in black fatigues was stood just inside, on apparent guard duty. Gail was herded into the room beyond and found all the staff and visitors there, she felt quite exposed in just her nightwear and gown.

"What's going on?" was the obvious first question.

"We've detected two men in the grounds."

"Why are we all down here?"

"Because we're not sure if they're armed, plus one had Mediterranean features." That could mean one of 20 or so countries, not all of which were friendly.

"Oh." Gail sat in the nearest chair and started to wonder, are they after me again? When will it end? She started to cry.

Anna sat next to her, but first turned to Diane warning her silently to stay out of the way.

"It'll be okay, Gail, this is just precautionary."

"If you say, so."

There was light chatter in the room but the presence of paramilitary uniforms meant most of those in the room were silent. Jenny had left the room, unseen by Gail, using another door. She now returned.

"Can I have everyone's attention? The intruders have been detained and the guards are conducting a full sweep of the grounds at the moment. A full security assessment will be made once we find out the intruders' motives. Please wait here for a little longer."

Gail whispered to Anna, "Guards?"

"The ground staff are also the guards, hadn't you wondered why there's always staff out there?"

"I see."

Gail wondered where the second doorway went, then saw the sign 'Pass Holders Only' and remembered the security door near the fitness suite. She decided not to ask about it at this time.

The door to the swimming pool was opened and Jenny announced the all-clear.

"Dinner will be a bit late," Jenny told Gail, Anna and Diane when she found them in the conservatory a little later. When the three ladies had reached the room, security blinds covering the windows were just being raised.

"Gail, why don't you get changed, I'll have a chat with Diane." Diane looked distinctly uncomfortable with Anna's words.

Gail was back twenty minutes later and immediately Diane stood and hugged Gail.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't understand how ill you were. I was also rude this morning and I apologise for that."

Gail said nothing but returned the hug. Anna just looked out of the window, Diane now understood that the nurse was Gail's close protection officer, annoying Anna was not a recommended approach. When dinner was eventually called, Anna sat next to Gail with Diane across the table. Anna's suggestion of a walk in the grounds after dinner was dismissed by Gail.

"No, I'm going to get into bed and watch some telly."

"Good plan. I'll head up myself."

Gail and Anna left the dining room with Anna suggesting the two have a swim the following morning.

 
Look & Listen
 

Early on Wednesday morning, Gail and Anna were in the pool, the safe room door was again invisible, seamlessly set into the tiled wall. Under Anna's guidance Gail swam gently up and down the pool, not over exerting herself.

"I've been using the pool every morning since I arrived so feel free to join me. Take it easy for a few days then we can start an exercise schedule to help get you fit."

"Sounds like a plan."

As the pair headed out of the pool, Diane came in.

"Gail, I need to re-attach those breast forms today."

Gail instinctively touched her almost flat chest. Anna noticed the shiver that Gail experienced.

"I think I'd best check you over first, it might not be a good idea to glue them in place for a few days. I'll come with you to your room."

Diane stepped into the pool wondering if Anna's comment was concern for Gail or a slap in the face for herself.

Upstairs, Anna was in charge. "Get that swimsuit off," she gently ordered as the two went into Gail's bathroom.

Anna had a look, then touched one of Gail breasts. "That looks a bit sore. Leave the fake boobs off today, I'll find some cream in the medical room that should help. Jump in the shower first."

Anna was back ten minutes later, showered and dressed herself, how did she manage that so fast wondered Gail wondered?

Anna dabbed the cream on both breasts. "Don't put a bra on for a minute, wait for that to be absorbed. I'll leave the pot here so you can use it each morning and night. I'll have Dr Hughes to have a look, but can I ask you one question?"

"Fire away."

"Would you like real breasts?"

"Yes."

Anna dropped the topic. "Get dressed and I'll see you downstairs for breakfast."

***

Jenny approached Gail once breakfast was dealt with.

"I have your schedule for today. Miss Gardner will be here at ten and a Dr Young at Eleven."

"Only two? Who's Dr Young?"

"Dr Hannah Young is a gender counsellor."

"Right, another shrink! Where is she from?"

"Sorry, I haven't been told."

Gail took her newspaper and walked into the conservatory. It was a grey day with spots of rain falling on the glass, a typical British summer's day. She was attempting the crossword when the optician arrived. Gail spotted Anna slide into a chair across the room.

"Good morning Cloe."

"Hello Gail, I have your new glasses; I can fit them here." She pulled over a chair then handed Gail the glasses, who slid them over her ears. Cloe reached over and checked the arms, then asked Gail to take them back off. The optician applied a little pressure to one of the arms and asked Gail to put them back on. A further check and Cloe was satisfied.

"It will take you a day or two to get used to them, especially with the varifocal lens. If you get a headache, take them off for an hour. If the headache persists, leave them off and ask Jenny to contact me."

"Okay."

Cloe pulled a card from her bag and asked Gail to read the bottom few lines, which she achieved easily, although she shifted her head a few times, slightly confused.

"There's three zones on the lens, close, medium and far. If you look through the middle of the lens that's medium, for watching television or similar. Use the bottom zone for close work, like a laptop or reading your newspaper. Pick up your newspaper and tell me if it's easier to read the small print now?"

Gail shuffled her head around.

"Yes, and thanks for the advice, I can see what you mean now."

"Here's a case and a cleaning kit. As I said, if there are any problems contact me and I'll come back."

"Thank you."

As Cloe turned and walked out, Gail restarted her efforts with the crossword, not noticing that Anna had now also left.

Coffee was brought as Gail put the paper down, the crossword compiler has defeated her again. As she sipped she again tasted the stronger blend. Some oat biscuits, Hob Nobs, had accompanied the coffee so Gail nibbled one, unaware that she was being observed.

The visitor waited until Gail had carefully put her coffee cup down.

"Good morning Gail, I'm Hannah Young."

"Good morning, please excuse me but I had a lousy experience with the last shrink I saw a few days ago."

"That's alright, but I don't consider myself to be a shrink, or psychiatrist as such, just a gender counsellor to help you find your path."

"Thank you, I think I've had enough of pushy people!"

"Do you mind if we walk and talk? I'm not that keen on the sterile consulting room approach and the rain clouds are disappearing. I think it's turning into a decent day."

Gail excused herself to go back to her room and find some flats to wear around the grounds. She also picked up a cardigan as her short-sleeved top didn't seem to be adequate for outside.

Back in the conservatory they headed out, following Gail's usual route towards the lake. Gail noticed new lights, knee high, strung along the gravel path.

"So, Gail, how do you feel?"

"That's a difficult one to answer and I'm not sure if I can say very much, but I'm comfortable."

"Maybe I phrased that question badly, how do you feel, presenting yourself as a woman?"

"As I just said, I'm comfortable and no-one here treats me anything other than a woman, although the doctor and nurse do see rather more than the others!"

"How long have you been dressing full-time?"

"Let me see, it's Wednesday today and it was Sunday a week ago that I started, so ten days."

Hannah paused, wondering if she should doubt Gail's assertion.

"How often were you dressing before you went full-time?"

"Once or twice a week for evenings out, or just to feel nice when I was alone. The rest of the time I had to be a man, albeit not necessarily a good one."

"In what way?"

"My father did not see me as the son he wanted and it turns out I was probably infertile."

"I see, did you dress as a girl when you were a child?"

"No, and I had no concept of that."

"So what changed in your life that caused you to go full-time?"

"I can't give you full details but my life was in danger and I needed to get out of London without being seen. I had an apartment at my office where my female wardrobe lived, I stayed there on the Saturday night and decided to leave on Sunday morning as Gail. I've not looked back since then."

"Is it only a disguise?"

"No, Gail was always an another persona for me, not a disguise."

Hannah waited for a few seconds before continuing,

"Have you ever taken any hormones or other drugs?"

"No."

"How do you see your future, Gail?"

"That's a tough one, Hannah, I no longer own anything of David's so my future is solely as Gail. With the help of the people here I'll hopefully be able to go back to working for myself, but I'm not short of money right now. I've changed my legal name and have no intention of going back to my former self, even though it's only been ten days, I still forget at times that I once had a predominantly male life."

"I was given a medical report by Dr Hughes who says your testosterone level was very low and a concern, and that he had to perform an orchidectomy for medical reasons."

"That's what I was told, my testes were barely functional and in danger of causing me serious problems. So far as the hormone levels were concerned, he said he couldn't do anything by himself."

"Correct, I've also seen Dr Fox's report from last week who was satisfied you weren't dressing for any sexual thrill but was not authorised to rubber stamp any treatment on her own. That's one reason I'm here."

"Go on."

"Taking into account the two reports, plus speaking to you and observing you I'm satisfied you are transgendered. Normally this would start several months of sessions but I understand that unless hormone treatment is started very soon Dr Hughes may have to start you on testosterone replacement therapy."

"No!"

"Don't worry, I am going to recommend you begin a course of Oestrogen immediately, albeit a low dosage to start. We'll then have another chat in a few weeks to see how you're coping. I'll ask Dr Hughes and your nurse to monitor you and report any issues to me."

"Thank you. Does that mean I'll get my own breasts?"

"That depends on many factors but most likely, yes. How long before your body responds to the HRT is another matter. You can expect regular blood tests!"

"Wonderful, is there a vampire around here that I'm feeding?"

The pair had reached the wooden summerhouse but saw no-one there, they turned and followed the path back towards the house. Gail took off her cardigan now that the sun had come out. The conversation turned to shopping, clothing, make-up and other interests. "Thank you for listening to me Hannah."

"That's my job, to listen. You'll make a great woman, Gail, that much I can tell from our chat. I best be off, I need to write my report."

"Okay, bye." Gail leant over and kissed Hannah on the cheek before Jenny led Dr Young away to the subterranean garage.

Jenny returned ten minutes later to inform Gail that lunch was ready.

"Is Diane joining us?"

"No, she left earlier today."

Gail paused.

"Do I have any more appointments?"

"Not that I'm aware."

"In that case, is there a sun lounger I can use?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 7

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Take One Daily
 

When Gail put her swimsuit on for her Thursday morning swim, she realised that she had caught the sun during the previous afternoon's session on the sun lounger. Looking in the mirror she could see the tan lines from the halter-neck bikini she'd worn, something Helen had talked her into buying the previous week. More worrying were the red patches between the strap marks.

She padded down to the pool and met Anna there.

"Whoa Gail, that doesn't look too clever, didn't you put any sunblock on?"

"There wasn't any in my room."

"Then you should have asked, silly girl, I'll speak to Jenny about it. Let's get wet."

Gail jumped in and regretted it, the water stung her. She quickly recovered and started to swim up and down, alternating between breast stroke and front crawl.

"Gail, try swimming on your back. The water will help relieve your sunburn, a little anyway."

Gail flipped over and stretched her left arm out to start a back crawl stroke, she made quick progress up the 15m pool. After fifteen minutes of swimming they moved to the jacuzzi for five minutes of winding down.

After Gail's shower she again applied the cream Anna had given her, then looked at the label 'Yam Cream' and wondered what it was. Never mind, her breast area was no longer sore but her nipples were sensitive, in a nice way! She dressed sensibly with a long sleeved top and long cotton skirt, no chance of additional sunburn today, she thought. Gail was heading out of her room when she remembered her new glasses, sat on a bedside cabinet.

After breakfast Jenny again came to her.

"Gail, the diary today looks light but Helen says she should be here for lunch. Anna's told me you need some sunblock. I'll obtain that plus some Aprés Sol and have it delivered to your room.

"Thank you. I'll be in the library for most of the morning I think."

"I'll have Lisa bring you coffee in an hour."

"Ta."

Gail headed off with her daily paper to her laptop and powered it up. So far there was only one email, confirming receipt of the long list of questionable transactions in the 2008/9 accounts. Gail started on the next tax year, from 1st April 2009 to 31st March 2010 and commenced compiling another long email, attaching the relevant supporting documents.

It was slow work but Gail had always been methodical, wanting to do the job thoroughly, even though she was reviewing not just the Fourani accounts but also the work done by herself years earlier. Gail made good progress but that meant her coffee, delivered by the maid, was now cold and mostly still in the cup. This was something Gail was used to, when she became overly involved in her work.

There was something else in the accounts that she hadn't previously identified. It reeked of tax evasion, or at least tax avoidance - there is a fine line between the two. Gail at this point could really do with a copy of the tax guidelines for that year, but her office contents had been put into storage the previous week.

She tried the tax man's website but the historical information wasn't there. Gail guessed that the official guides were out of print too, although checking ebay generated a 'Website Blocked' message. Something to ask Helen later, especially as she didn't know which address to use.

Gail continued as best she could and put a brief summary of her issues in an email to Dave Brown at the Security Service. By midday she'd had enough and closed her laptop.

She met Helen in the corridor.

"Hi Gail, come with me!"

"What? Why?"

"Come see."

Helen led Gail down a few steps and swiped her security pass when they reached a doorway. Beyond that were more steps leading to a loading bay in the underground car-park. The lighting was orange, which didn't help identifying coloured items, although Gail quickly spotted a clothing rail on wheels, full of garment bags and plastic covers.

Next to that were several plastic storage boxes, stacked 4 high.

"Is this what I think it is, Helen?"

"Yes, Gail, this is the order we placed last week plus a few bits from the week before that were the wrong size. I've added a little myself, but you won't be charged for those."

"I guess we're not dragging it all upstairs?"

"Of course not, that's why the lift is down here waiting."

It was a squeeze but the clothing rail and the two ladies were soon riding up. When Helen turned a different direction, Gail was confused.

"I thought we were going to my room?"

"We are, but you needed more hanging space so you're being moved to the master bedroom. Jenny is finalising the move right now."

They entered the room and Gail's first thoughts were not the size of the room, nor the sofa and furnishings but the vista; the double windows looked straight out over the grounds at the rear of the house down to the lake and the boundary wall. Looking straight down, Gail could see she was over the conservatory. She turned back to see Helen smiling.

"I thought you'd like it."

"I do."

"There's a walk-in wardrobe and an en-suite."

"I had an en-suite in my previous room."

"Not one with a whirlpool bath!"

"I'm tempted to strip and jump straight in!"

"Calm down girl, we're not done yet."

The plastic crates were brought on on a barrow by one of the grounds staff, who swiftly left the room. Helen opened the top one and handed Gail a box.

"My MP3 player?"

"It's an MP4 player with a 4 inch screen. I've had it loaded with a few recent films and several thousand music tracks."

"Great."

"Let's get the rest unpacked." Helen put a large envelope from the top crate to one side. "Later," she mouthed to Gail. They'd finished the second crate when the phone rang, Jenny was calling them down for lunch.

***

Back in the room thirty minutes later, and praying that she'd not get indigestion, Gail decided to tackle the clothes rail, had she really ordered this much?

All work on the crates, one of which was filled with lingerie and hosiery, halted as Gail provided Helen with another fashion show. Of course, there were some rejects again and these went on the king sized bed. That's when Gail noticed a paper bag beside the bed. She reached over and read a small label.

"Abigail Adams?" Then it clicked. She opened the bag, a standard pharmacy bag, and extracted the box inside. The instructions were simple, take one daily.

"My pills! I'm on the pill! I'm on the pill!"

Helen couldn't help herself but laugh, so much in fact that she collapsed on the sofa. Gail did a little dance and flopped next to Helen.

Helen gave Gail a minute to calm down then went to the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and suggested Gail took a tablet out of the packet.

"Which one?"

"Just look for a Thursday and take that, tomorrow take Friday's and so on, that way you can make sure you take it."

"Okay, but why weren't they made out to Gail Jones?"

"I was coming to that," she reached for the envelope that was beside the sofa, "your public identity is Abigail Adams, as we discussed, so anything outside these walls will be under that name. There are exceptions of course, but most official documents and files are being altered."

"My legal name is still Gail Jones?"

"Yes, but for any real purpose you're Abigail. This packet contains your new bank cards, you can sort them out later. Okay, here's your new birth certificate, national insurance number, passport, driving licence, ..."

"Driving licence? I can't drive."

"It's a provisional licence, you've lessons next week in standard and defensive driving."

"I never needed to drive in London."

"Perhaps not, but your new role could take you much further afield."

"Tell me."

"Not yet, it's still being finalised before we make you the offer."

"Offer, Helen? It sounds like a university application?"

"I'd rather think about it as an invite to join a very special club."

"This is incredible."

"Gail, we identified you some time ago, let's take a walk."

 
On The Range
 

Helen put down the brown envelope, which plainly held more documents, and signalled for Gail to follow her from her new bedroom. Once outside she walked into the middle of the lawn, stopping well away from the gravel path.

"We should be okay here, Gail."

"Okay?"

"You see those lights along the path? They're microphones and wide angle cameras, as well as LED lights. The summerhouse is bugged, as is the conservatory."

"So none of my conversations are private?"

"As far as I'm aware, none of the other areas in the house are usually covered by microphones but there's extensive CCTV coverage."

"Should I be surprised? What else do I need to know?"

Helen started walking slowly down the lawn, avoiding any structure.

"Your nurse Anna, is actually your close protection officer. She is a qualified nurse but has special forces training. Her nursing speciality is psychiatry."

"Brilliant, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, I saw her with a gun when we had those intruders."

"I was coming to that, it was an exercise to test the new defences, plus the evacuation procedure."

"I get the feeling there's something more?"

Helen thought for a while before deciding to come straight out with the latest issue.

"Yes, Diane has become a problem."

"Why? How?"

"It seems that Essex Special Branch have been conducting a separate investigation into you and spoke at length with Diane when they found her last week. She was asked to bring a GPS device here."

"When?"

"On Tuesday, the receiver was in her main make-up case. It's been seized and she's had her security clearance revoked. Several senior officers in Essex are being investigated, it's turned nasty."

"So why haven't I been moved?"

"There's a GPS jammer on site. She couldn't get a fix. One other thing, there was a crude attempt to follow the van when she was picked up on Tuesday, but the surveillance team were intercepted."

"This is something out of a spy novel!"

"It's deadly serious, Gail."

They'd reached the summer house.

"Come and sit on the veranda."

"What about the microphones?"

"Anna's in the control room and will disable the ones here for the next hour. Want a drink?"

"Drink?"

"There's a fridge, I'll get water for both of us."

The girls made themselves comfortable for what, Gail guessed, could be a long session. Helen's answers had now prompted a whole host of questions.

"I'm not sure which order to ask everything?"

"Let me start then, why have Essex tried to get at you?"

"That's a good start, but I hope it's a rhetorical question?"

"Yes, it seems they didn't accept that this could be a Security Service operation and were still working on the basis that your disappearance was a kidnapping. Remember, you'd been seen in Clacton police station on that Sunday morning and had then disappeared."

"Nothing sinister then?"

"Not at first sight, but it seems someone has been probing Essex because of the missing person enquiry. We're trying to find out who and why. When we know, I'll let you know."

"But there's no risk at the moment?"

"There's always risk, it's just how well you can manage it. Very few people know the location of this house, every single one of those has a regular security review. Everyone else is brought here in a darkened van. That's why Diane was told to bring a GPS device, but there's a jammer in the van too. If the risk becomes too great, you'll be relocated."

"Okay, next question. Why were you already aware of me?"

"There was a large investigation into Turkish crime in Stoke Newington and Islington during the late 2000's and Hamiz Fourani was initially mis-identified as Turkish, so was included in the enquiries. You were seen spending alot of time in his café so some checks were conducted."

"What sort of checks?"

"A few ladies asked you to look at their accounts?"

"There were two or three in quick succession."

"Did they ask to see you at your office?"

"Yes, and more than once in Hamiz's café."

"One planted a listening device under the table that Hamiz used, especially when you wanted to talk to him, and another retrieved it a week or so later."

"Oh."

"They were satisfied that you weren't involved in any of Hamiz's criminal activities, although a full background check was also done. That's why your clearance was managed so quickly, all of the basic work had already been done."

"I did those ladies' accounts again, the following year."

"They were retired officers, and you saved both of them a substantial amount of tax."

"They were nice ladies too."

"I worked with them, I arranged the surveillance."

"Oh."

"We knew about your apartment too, and Gail."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, you looked good in a frock even then, when you had little clue about make-up."

Gail started crying, Helen seemed prepared and had a small packet of tissues to hand. She waited for a minute for Gail to recover.

"Look, it's nothing to worry about, I've been your guardian angel for about six years now. I spotted your potential once we were satisfied you weren't a risk."

"Thanks, but I still don't see what the offer is?"

"I was coming to that."

A phone rang just inside the summerhouse. Helen walked inside.

"Hello? Oh, hi Anna. It's free already? We'll be over."

"What's ready?" Asked Gail as Helen returned.

"A surprise."

"I think I've had enough surprises for one day."

"Consider this a distraction. I have something for you." She handed Gail a security pass on a lanyard.

"It's my photo, but this says Colman & Sons, and that I'm an auditor. Your surprise is that I'm working for a mustard manufacturer?"

Helen laughed, "no, it's actually your security service pass. It also opens most of the doors here, Anna has just had it enabled."

"So it is my surprise?"

"No, let's head back."

They walked back towards the house, this time along the path. Helen led Gail past the conservatory and to the security door by the fitness suite. "Place your pass there, Gail."

Gail did as asked and there was a click. She pulled the door and they walked down a few steps to a room occupied by several people, including Anna. Gail guessed that this was the security control room, the CCTV monitors being the give-away clue.

"Come on, this way. The range officer is waiting."

"Range officer?"

Leaving Helen behind, Anna and Gail walked a short distance to another security door. Two lights indicated 'Safe to enter' and 'Do not enter', at the moment the green light was glowing. Anna led Gail through the door, once inside she picked up two pairs of ear defenders and handed one to Gail.

"Have you ever used a weapon?"

"No, never."

"We're just going to give you a trial run, see how you get on."

"Why do I need this?"

"The ear defenders are for your safety, if you are talking about the surprise then it's a little diversion, a bit of fun. If you're not comfortable then we'll forget it."

"I've never done anything like this before, let's do it."

Gail was introduced to a man, identified only as the range officer by Anna. He proceeded to give Gail one of the most intense safety talks she'd ever encountered.

After an hour Gail was hot and tired, but she had fully enjoyed the challenge. Her new glasses, even under safety goggles, helped and she did better than she, or Anna, would have expected. Getting used to the 'kick' when firing a handgun was the worst part. She was shown how to change and refill a magazine, as well as cleaning the weapons, all under Anna's guidance and the watchful eye of the range officer.

They walked back into the control room, Gail regardless of her enjoyment she was definitely grateful she could leave the weapons in the range.

"Anna, how come I'm allowed down here?"

"As a pass holder, you would have found your way here eventually. However you also need to know that this is the emergency exit from the safe room and there's also an exit into the loading bay and car-park in case of full evacuation. Additionally, if you're in the garden and there's a security alert you can get in here, providing you have your pass. Put it in a shoulder bag and carry that bag at all times."

"I'll go upstairs and sort that out now."

"You might also want to take a shower before dinner. I'll come up with you."

Once in Gail's new room, she first noticed that the crates had gone, more of Jenny's work no doubt. Anna closed the bedroom door behind herself.

"Let's have a look at your boobs."

"I don't have any yet."

"All in good time, have you been using the cream?"

"Yes, what's in it?"

"Yam cream contains progesterone, it will help promote breast growth. Dr Hughes felt you might need it."

"You are a real nurse, aren't you?"

"Yes, I qualified ten years ago in the Royal Army Medical Corps, my specialism was post traumatic stress disorder. I was then placed on detached duty with special forces to care for personnel coming off difficult missions. Sometimes I was needed to be with them at the forward control, that's how I got my special training. I'm freelance now."

"So how did you end up with me?"

"You should have stayed in that hospital for another 24 hours but there was intelligence that there would be a hit on you. We had no choice but to bring you here even though you weren't well enough under the usual guidelines. I was available so Helen called me in."

"How long are you staying with me?"

"As long as it takes; these jobs are open-ended."

"Right."

"Come on, get into that shower and use some cream on when you get out. I'll put some after-sun on your back too, it's in your bathroom according to Jenny. Dinner's in forty five minutes, scram!"

 
Excursion
 

Gail slept well on Thursday night and almost forgot the reason for an alarm call shortly before 7am; she met Anna and Helen in the pool ten minutes later.

"Good," yawn, "morning."

"Hi Gail, come on, get in!"

With the three of them in the pool it ceased to be a sensible exercise session and they hit the steam room rather quickly. Gail had never used one before so this was her latest new experience although after ten minutes they slid into the jacuzzi.

"Is this supposed to be good for me?" Gail asked as she hit the seemingly cold water.

"The Scandinavians claim it's the secret of their long lives," suggested Anna.

"Or maybe that's the high cost of their booze?" Added Helen.

Giggles.

"Guys, I'm sorry I wasn't up to anything after dinner last night, but seriously is there anything else for me right now? I'm not sure if I can take any more?"

"Gail, I've a few bits but maybe we can just chill, it's almost the weekend after all," Helen was not going to push Gail.

"Sure Gail, it looks like it's a good day, maybe we can do something?"

"Like what?"

"A ride out somewhere?" Offered Helen.

Gail stared at Helen, then Anna. "What about security?"

"Gail, relax a bit, with Anna and myself we can manage most things, plus no-one's going to expect to see you; you look nothing like David."

"I suppose so, what do you suggest?"

"Kew Gardens?*"

"Sounds good, lunch out?"

"Of course."

"Right, get upstairs, shower and dressed. Wear your falsies and a decent bra. We'll see you in breakfast in thirty."

Gail was out of the pool and halfway up the steps when she remembered her towel and sandals, as she turned around, Helen handed them to her. "Off you go!"

After breakfast it was clear that Jenny knew about the day's excursion but apparently she wasn't completely satisfied with the arrangements.

"I've asked for a backup team to be with you, but would have liked more than 20 minutes notice."

"Sorry, Jenny, but I was only told a few minutes before that."

"It's not your fault, but Anna and Helen should know better."

After a wash and make-up check, Gail checked her bag. She had now packed her purse with bank cards and her driving licence. There was a little cash leftover from the day Gail went to Clacton, so that was taken as well. She finally remembered to put her security pass in the bag.

Next, what would a normal woman keep in her bag? Gail put a simple make-up repair kit, body spray, nail kit, tissues and some spare pantyliners. Although it was now a week since her operation, and there had been no discharge or blood for days, she was still wearing a liner as she felt more secure.

What was missing? For one thing, a phone. That, as she had been promised, was in hand. Finally she remembered to take Friday's little pill. She was still taking the iron tablets too and had remembered to apply some cream across her invisible bust before dressing.

A phone call from Helen advised Gail to stop daydreaming and meet the girls in the garage.

As Gail climbed into the back of the van, she wondered out loud, "we're not going into Kew in a blacked out van, are we?"

Helen responded, "no, we'll switch vehicles at Brent Cross shopping centre."

"In that case, can I do some shopping on the way back?"

Helen looked at Anna, who shrugged.

"We'll see. While we have some time, here's your new mobile. As I said yesterday, don't try to use GPS in this van or at the house, and you'll find that the phone won't work in the house either, so switch it off there to save the battery. I've programmed a few useful numbers for you but some you can only call if you have the encryption unit enabled. There isn't enough time now to show you that. The phone's security code is the middle numbers of your new National Insurance number, if you can remember that?"

Gail looked at the phone, it wasn't a brand she recognised but it had a standard touch screen interface so wouldn't be a problem. She'd made a mental note of the new NI number the previous day and got it right on the second attempt. If you dealt with officialdom regularly then remembering your NI number tended to speed things up. She locked it and slid the phone in her bag.

"I also have this for you, it's a personal attack deterrent."

Gail held it, trying to read the small print, "it's CS spray?"

"No, that wouldn't be legal. It's a new one that makes the attacker rather smelly and puts UV-reactive dye on their clothes and skin. Put it in your bag."

The vehicle switch was completed ten minutes later using a remote area of the Brent Cross shopping centre. Helen drove with Anna up front, Gail sat behind on her own. A second vehicle held two more officers, a male and a female in plain clothes. This was not a Sunday school outing.

The drive around the M25, towards Heathrow, was as exciting as ever. No-one could get close to the advertised speed limit and idiot drivers were making it difficult by swapping lanes without any notice. Just another day on London's orbital motorway.

They took the A4 towards central London and pulled into Kew at ten o'clock. Helen and Anna both looked around the carpark and used a radio link to the other officers to confirm it was safe. Gail was beginning to wonder if all this security meant that she was silly agreeing to the day out.

"Come on Gail, day dreaming again? Let's find a coffee shop where we can plan the day." Helen, at least, was keen to enjoy herself, Anna was just pensive.

Over their lattés they plotted a route around the gardens of the Royal Botanic Gardens which, Gail noted, was created in 1759. By mutual consent they caught the Kew Explorer land train the next time it passed by.

By lunchtime they'd covered only a quarter of the site, but the sun was out and Gail felt she was free to enjoy herself. Helen, and particularly Anna, were trying to enjoy themselves, but it was difficult to tell at times. The two plain clothed officers, when they came into view, were less interested in the flora & fauna of Kew and more concerned regarding the other visitors, especially in the area around Gail and her primary security team.

They found a table in one of the cafés that her security detail seemed happy with. As Helen picked up a menu, Gail slid her bag off her shoulder and was about to put it on the ground when a young man leapt forward and snatched it away.

Gail sat there in shock, but Anna reacted immediately and was out of her chair, chasing after the thief. The other officers had settled on a picnic bench outside the café and grabbed the thief as he was heading past, knocking him to the ground. Anna decided not to become further involved and turned her attention back to Gail.

"Let me go!"

Park security appeared swiftly, just as Helen and Gail arrived at the scene.

"That's my bag."

"We may have to verify that Miss," he had recovered the bag from the thief and opened it, presumably searching for ID. Helen leaned over and showed him her Met Police warrant, politely and firmly asking for the bag back.

"Can I suggest you escort this lad to the River Thames and have him take a swim?" Helen was hamming it for the audience that had gathered. In the meantime the backup team had moved out of the immediate area. Helen took the bag and passed it to Gail, signalling to Anna to take Gail away.

The security man decided that he'd best do something for the audience, so grabbed the lad and pulled him up, before marching him towards one of the gates. The audience plainly appreciated this and applauded. Helen had now rejoined the other two.

"Gail, I know that wasn't your fault but you do need to be careful in public areas. Let's find another place to eat."

Gail's appetite had gone, but she managed a small overcooked bun and a cool coffee. She bought a bottle of water as the day was becoming very warm. When she needed the toilet it was almost a military exercise.

They walked for an hour after lunch but Anna was quite jumpy every time a likely suspect came close. Helen suggested she took a 'chill pill' but Anna brushed that aside. Eventually it was decided they'd had enough.

Back in the car Helen turned to Gail, "can we leave that shopping trip for another day?"

"Like when I have a full battalion standing by?" Suggested Anna.

"Sure."

The ride back, including the vehicle switch, was uneventful. Gail felt slightly light-headed and opted for an hour's shut-eye before dinner, returning to bed almost immediately after she ate.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 8

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Debrief
 

Gail was alone in the pool the following morning, but decided against using the jacuzzi. She was back in her room for her shower when she realised this was the first morning she'd not seen nor spoken to anyone since she'd woken.

At breakfast she only saw Jenny, neither Anna or Helen were anywhere to be seen. Unusually Jenny wasn't talkative, Gail sensed something was wrong but couldn't identify it. She grabbed Saturday's paper and hauled it down to the conservatory.

There was a light mist but the morning had the hallmarks of becoming a decent summer's day. Gail settled down for a read, It was half past nine when the first signs of trouble appeared, in the form of Helen.

"That was hard work." She slumped into a chair.

"What was?"

"Debrief, because of our trip to Kew Gardens."

"Oh."

"Yes. Anna's still in there, with Emily Keane and her DI. I've been warned not to do that again, presumably Anna will be as well. If he had the authority I think the DI would remove Anna and me from the job."

"Whatever for? No-one could have predicted a bag snatcher."

"Indeed, but he was able to get very close to you and that is one of the problems. The other issue is that I identified myself as a Met Officer and now park security have been in touch through Richmond Police Station."

"Why?"

"The bag snatcher is known and they want a statement, from you and myself. Plainly Emily is not keen."

"I see. Does this mean I won't be leaving these walls again?"

"Not at all, but more stage management next time, whenever that is?"

"Oh bugger, I can see that shopping experience disappearing into the mist," she waved towards the garden.

"Don't pin your hopes on it happening in the near future, Gail."

Gail felt uncomfortable, yesterday's excursion into the outside world was her first taste of freedom for almost two weeks, indeed it was exactly a fortnight ago when she had found raiders in her office and the burnt remains of her home. It wasn't that she considered herself to be a prisoner, but neither was she free to walk out of the gates nor to contact anyone outside of a restricted list, in both meanings.

She then decided to look at the issue from the other side. There had been three, at least, attempts on her life in the past two weeks so without this protection she would most likely be dead. Her knowledge and skills were helping solve a complex picture of drug supply and arms smuggling involving known German terrorists. Very sobering indeed. Gail sighed, she was having difficulty reconciling the two positions.

She tried to read some more of the paper but she'd reached a page listing the weekend's festivals, none of which she could attend. The paper landed on the floor, not by accident.

Anna arrived at the conservatory doorway but decided not to add her gloom to the proceedings and headed back into the house. Gail was surprised when Jenny asked her to go to the library.

"Why?"

"Debrief, your turn."

"Me?"

"Yes, everyone is being interviewed."

Gail's day was not improving as she opened the library door. Inside were Detective Sergeant Emily Keane and a man whom Gail had never met.

"Come in Gail, take a seat. This is DI Reynolds, my superior."

"Good morning DI Reynolds," Gail tried to sound convincing, despite her reluctance.

"I'm pleased to meet you at last Miss Jones," the DI was also unconvincing.

Over the space of the next hour, Emily took Gail repeatedly through the events of the previous day, starting in the swimming pool when the excursion was initially planned. It was clear that procedures hadn't been followed but Gail was getting a different message. Emily, every time she was pushing Gail for an answer, was catching the eye of her DI, it looked as if the DI was running this show but wanted Emily to squirm. Gail finally had enough, and interrupted Emily.

"I'm sorry Emily but I need to say something. DI Reynolds, I don't know who you're trying to blame here, but as far as I'm concerned you have no respect for this operation. The first time you speak to me is when you're looking for a scape-coat. I've had enough of it. I am employed by the security service and I don't answer to you."

"You ungrateful pervert."

Emily looked at Gail and told her to get out of the room. Gail fled, in tears.

She burst out of the conservatory, not even certain if anyone had been sat there, and headed down the garden towards the summerhouse. Helen was sat on the veranda.

"The little prick!"

"Slow down Gail, who and what has happened?"

Gail repeated what she'd just experienced and her analysis of DI Reynolds. Then she recalled a comment Emily had made some twelve days earlier.

“I'm the case officer but I report to my DI and he's signing off everything. I can't say he was too understanding about you as Gail when we showed him a photo of you. That prompted him to call in the shrink."

Gail repeated this to Helen. "That explains a few things."

"Does the DI know where we are, the building I mean?"

"No, although Emily is cleared."

"Could he insist that I went with him? I feel he's going to try and remove me from here."

"Only if it was because of a criminal investigation, even then he doesn't have the final say. Why do you ask?"

"I have a horrible feeling about him, as if he was just looking for an excuse to have a go at me, at us."

Helen spoke, but not to Gail. "Anna, if you are listening, could you get down here - we need your input."

To Gail, "let's have some ice cream, I think there's a few in the icebox of the fridge." She returned with three as Anna was walking down the path.

They concentrated on their ices for a minute before Anna spoke, "we have a problem."

"Obviously!" Said Gail and Helen together.

"No, we have another problem, DI Reynolds wasn't brought here in one of the security vans but in a car. It doesn't have a GPS jammer fitted and I think I saw him on CCTV checking his phone. He was getting frustrated as it wouldn't send a message, obviously he hasn't been briefed about our security devices."

"Need to know?" Asked Gail.

"Exactly," said Helen, "he may be in charge of this Met Police anti-terrorist investigation and will receive intelligence from the security service but that does not allow him access to security service premises or files except where there is a well defined need to know."

"So what do we do?"

"We have to tell Jenny."

"What can she do?"

"Plenty."

Helen was elected to go to Jenny, Gail assumed there was an urgency as the DI could ask to leave.

"Oh, he could ask but I suggested the driver took a meal break. That gives us half an hour." Anna was smirking as she said this.

They sat there for a few minutes longer before Helen was seen walking back out, enjoying the sunshine.

"We have a plan."

That was it, the fewer that knew the plan, the better. The three sat there for almost an hour before walking back to the house so they couldn't be implicated. Lunch followed, but there was no sign of the housekeeper.

***

Jenny walked to the conservatory doorway mid afternoon looking pleased. "Ah Gail, I believe we've solved a problem." She turned and walked back into the house.

Some time later Helen arrived with a huge smile on her face.

"What's up?"

"We thought DI Reynolds was going back to central London, but his driver told us he was to take the DI to Chelmsford."

"Chelmsford?"

"The HQ of Essex Police is in Chelmsford."

"Oh."

"So she asked if he could drop her at Enfield, which wouldn't be too far out of the way. She then took two portable jammers in her bag and watched while he tried to get the information out of his phone. Apparently he become quite irate. Jenny said she could fix his phone and convinced him to hand it over but confiscated the phone instead. When the car pulled up in Enfield, instead of the railway station they were at Enfield police station, Jenny had arranged to have the DI arrested for a breach of the Official Secrets Act."

"Sweet. What's the Essex connection then?"

"His step-brother is a Detective Inspector in Essex Special Branch, who are still actively looking for you."

"No German connection then?"

"None that we've found so far. But there's some worrying news, on his phone were several photos of you taken here today."

"Great."

"Look, we've got the phone and we don't expect that he would have been able to send the photos anywhere. There are two major issues here, firstly that he was going to supply the location of this house, and you, to a third party plus his obvious personal dislike of you."

"What's next?"

"We need to make sure all vehicles have jammers fitted. In the meantime I need to find Emily and brief her, especially as we've just had her boss nicked."

 
Acting Up
 

After the hassle on Saturday, the fallout from the Detective Inspector's arrest had been measured. His Essex-based step-brother had been temporarily relieved of command too, although it was unclear which of them was the driving force or if a third party was actively involved.

Gail decided that a low profile was needed, after catching up with Helen and Anna in the pool, so she slipped down to the summerhouse veranda with her Sunday paper and a coffee; there was a rumour that the ice creams had been restocked, almond and pistachio apparently.

The sun broke through early in the morning and by ten o'clock it was very warm. It had taken a few days for Gail to realise that the photo-chromic layer on her glasses really did work, the change was barely susceptible to the wearer. She also found herself continually touching the glasses to make sure she was wearing them.

As far as she knew, the day was free, but that word had a strange meaning within this cocoon. Having said that, if a senior police officer in the anti-terrorist team can seemingly go freelance, then who could she trust? Walking towards her was Emily Keane.

"Fancy an ice cream?"

"I'd heard a snippet there was a secret stock down here."

"Lies, all lies! I'll deny everything!" Gail used a false Italian accent, badly, but Emily laughed regardless. Gail went into the summerhouse and retrieved two ices.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Gail, I was under orders to conduct the interviews but it was on his terms."

"I guessed that you weren't comfortable."

"I wasn't."

"What will you do now?"

"I have to go back to New Scotland Yard this morning to see one of the Assistant Commissioners, can't say I'm looking forward to that, but it's not optional."

"Well good luck, anyway, do you know what they're going to say?"

"It could go either way, most likely is a full investigation. I could even be suspended."

"Is that likely?"

"Again, I don't know. I just have to accept my fate, although if it's bad then the Federation will become involved."

"Federation?"

"The Police Federation is a staff union for police officers."

"Okay, so you wouldn't have to deal with anything on your own?"

"That's the idea. I have to go, I'll try to let you know later what happened."

"Thanks."

Emily finished her ice cream and walked slowly back to the house, to Gail it was hard seeing the pressure that was on Emily, but as a serving police officer she knew the rules. Gail tried to read her paper but couldn't concentrate. She closed her eyes and dropped off to sleep.

The sound of a phone ringing woke her. "Hello?"

"Ah, Gail, found you. Lunch will be served shortly."

"Thanks Jenny."

Gail gathered herself and headed across the garden then up to her room. She had a wee and a wash then remembered that she hadn't taken her pills that morning, she wouldn't want to get pregnant accidentally, would she? She was also running out of the iron tablets she'd been taking for most of the past fortnight.

She was alone for lunch, it seemed that everyone else had left the house. This reinforced her view that she was a form of prisoner here, even if it was in her best interests, apparently.

After lunch she decided to head into the library to spend an hour on the accounts. She first checked her emails, there was a new one from Dave Brown.

 

To: Abigail Adams
From: Dave Brown
Subject: Tour
 
Hi Gail
 
Thanks for everything so far, there are some very interesting leads affecting investigations in the UK and Germany. Our sister agency in Germany, the Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND) have asked if they could speak to you. If you're willing we could combine a tour of Thames House with the meeting. They'll be over on Wednesday so could you let me know asap.
 
Regards
Dave

 

Gail hit reply and quickly typed an acceptance, with the caveat that she'd need to make sure her minders wouldn't object. She then started on the 2009/2010 accounts, making notes as she went. By four o'clock she'd finished that tax year and was now seeing a definite pattern. She opened a new email.

 

To: Dave Brown
From: Abigail Adams
Subject: Black hole
 
Dave
 
As I mentioned previously, I have long suspected there was a tax avoidance scheme running across the accounts. Within one year it might be mistaken for a regular set of transactions but there's a pattern emerging across multiple years. What I've seen is payments for goods with a refund several days later. I don't believe any goods were actually shipped so this is a cover for moving funds, as the refund is always 80% of the original sum. The goods themselves vary, as does the amount. The paperwork specifies different addresses and business names, but one occurred several times, Iranischen Zentrums für Kulturaustausch (Iranian Centre for Cultural Exchange), in Düsseldorf.
 
The account number changed only once, I'll attach a sample of the documents but the total funds effectively transferred run to over £500,000 annually.
 
Regards
Gail

 

Satisfied with her afternoon's work she shut down the laptop and walked towards the stairs. Jenny caught her just before she could head for her room.

"Gail, I'm working on this week's appointments and meetings, is there anything specific you'd like to do? Within reason of course!"

"I've had an invite to Thames House on Wednesday so that's one thing and I could do with a visit from a hair stylist, plus a waxing is needed."

"I'll arrange transport for Wednesday, presumably I'll receive a formal request tomorrow. As for the other bits, leave that with me and Helen to sort out. Anything else?"

"I'd still like a trip to Brent Cross or another shopping centre."

"I'll take that one under advisement! Oh, dinner's at six."

Jenny turned to head off so Gail took this as a cue that she could continue up to her new room, remembering to turn the correct way at the top of the stairs.

As she had two hours to kill she figured using the fitness suite was an idea, She changed into her leotard but left the tights off because of the warmth of the day. She put some sweats on over the leotard and headed back downstairs.

She was alone in the suite with every machine at her disposal but chose the running machine, she could do with getting into shape! One thing Gail noticed was that several of the machines had been moved towards the walls and an area, approximately 10mx10m, had been created. A pile of exercise mats sat in the space.

She shed her sweats and climbed on, starting at a sedate walk and slowly building it up to five miles per hour, holding that for twenty minutes.

Sweat was pouring off her as she stopped and she kicked herself for forgetting to take a towel. She gathered up her sweats and carried them back to her room, using the jacket to mop her brow. Once there she filled the bath and slid in, enabling the water jets. She didn't want to get out but dinner was fast approaching. She quickly washed her hair in the shower and dressed simply, in a frock she couldn't remember ordering. Maybe it was one of Helen's little extras.

Given that she'd seen very few people during the day, she was a little surprised to find Emily back, along with Helen and Anna. Anna, it turned out, had requested a day off to do some shopping of her own and Helen had gone to her own office in Stoke Newington to catch up with some work.

Emily was the one person Gail had feared would not return. "How did it go?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not as bad as I thought, the Assistant Commissioner wanted my opinion on the Kew Gardens incident but agreed, apart from some procedural issues, nothing could have been done to prevent a determined bag snatcher. He'll deal with the Kew security office by paying them a visit, he's a keen amateur botanist as it happens."

"So was that it?"

"Not quite, whilst the DI is suspended, pending dismissal it would seem, I've been given the acting role."

"Acting? As on a stage?" Gail was now confused.

"No, I'm now the Acting Detective Inspector responsible for this terrorism investigation."

"That's great news."

"Unfortunately that means I'll have plenty of work back at New Scotland Yard so my visits here won't be as often. I'm back here tonight as we need to give you a briefing in the morning and I don't fancy the Monday morning traffic."

"You can't do the briefing tonight?"

"No, I'm shattered and there's no immediate urgency."

Dinner was served and chatter reduced to a minimum as the traditional Sunday roast was devoured.

After dinner Gail went first to her room to freshen then for a walk down the length of the garden, perhaps she'd eaten more than was good for her? There was a little walled area on the far corner that she'd initially thought was a part of the boundary wall but where a tree had been lopped she could now see a small gate.

Inside the enclosed space were flower beds, a herb garden and a vegetable path but set in the centre was an open space, currently occupied by Anna. Her nurse and close protection officer was going through a range of exercises that looked like a martial art, Gail waited until she'd completed the latest sequence of movements before speaking.

"Anna, that looked interesting?"

"It's Tai Chi, I'm using it help me concentrate, that guy shouldn't have got so close to you on Friday and it's my fault."

"Don't beat yourself up Anna, it could happen to all of us?"

"It mustn't happen to me again, or I'm out of the business. That's why I'm doing the exercises."

"Is it self-defence too?"

"No, for that I use a form of Taekwondo. I'd be happy to teach you some defensive moves."

"Here?" Gail waved around the garden.

"No in the fitness suite, I've arranged for some exercise mats to be delivered."

"I saw them earlier."

"How about we have a taster session tomorrow, but have a very light breakfast!"

"Fine. What do I wear?"

"Leotard and tights, or sweats, will do for now, but we'll get you a dobok if you want to continue the training."

Gail wished Anna a good evening and walked back to the house. She'd never thought about self defence before but perhaps it would be sensible now. She did wonder, however, what was a dobok?

 
Salt
 

Monday morning found Gail and Anna in the fitness suite on the exercise mats that had now been laid out. Despite the relatively soft landing, Gail wasn't convinced this was a good idea.

"The first thing we need to cover is how to fall."

"Fall?"

"Yes, how to fall safely so you can be up straight away. You can use a fall to gain the upper hand. Let me show you."

They spent half an hour doing exercises before Gail called a halt, she was panting badly.

"Same again tomorrow morning then?"

"I'll think about it!"

She reached the stairs to head up to her room when she realised that the muscles in her legs were aching badly. She pulled herself up to her room using the hand rail, finally reaching her bathroom. She was aching even more after that climb, even taking off her exercise wear was difficult as she couldn't stretch legs nor arms. She dragged herself into the shower.

Gail was more relaxed when she left her bathroom and decided on a long linen skirt to hide any bruises that might be forming; Lisa found her in the conservatory with her legs up and quickly arranged refreshments. She'd barely taken the first sip of coffee when Emily bounced in.

"Where have you been, we need to do this briefing?"

"Self defence class with Anna."

"Oh dear, you're going to feel that all day."

"I gathered that. Can we do the briefing here?"

"'Fraid not, it will have to be the library for security."

Gail eased her way out of her seat and winced more than once as newly formed bruises rubbed on the chair. She carefully picked up her coffee but felt too insecure in her current state to carry the biscuits as well.

Once in the library, and not comfortable at all, Emily brought Gail up to date, concentrating on the attempts against her.

"There's no new intelligence that suggests anyone else has been given the contract on your life but there's still a concern that information gathering is ongoing. To that end we can't rule out a connection to the Essex investigation, although that has been firmly shut-down."

"What is it with Essex?"

"I don't know, it could be a personal motive based on transphobia, homophobia or something deeper. The West Midlands major incident team have been brought in to dig through the mess."

"Why the West Midlands? What's Birmingham got to do with this?"

"Nothing, as far as we know, so there's no contamination."

"So right now, there may or may not be something in this."

"Yep."

"Great. What about the ones arrested for the RPG attack?"

"They're talking now, it could be the difference between ten years or thirty years to life."

"When do they get to trial and will I be needed?"

"The trial won't start until the new year, at the earliest, and because you weren't there at the time you aren't needed.”

"What about that nurse, Fatima?”

"Fatima is remanded at the same prison as her mother, who was recalled from parole. They're both charged with kidnapping, actual bodily harm and false imprisonment plus we have Janet Davis on a serious drug charge, she'll be inside for some time."

"How long before that trial?"

"Dr Fox is not currently fit so we're using the time to investigate further, there's every chance we'll find something else to pin on them."

"Sneaky."

"Perhaps, but it's how we have to play the game these days, in any case we'll want to tidy up some other loose ends first."

"What about the Fourani's businesses?"

"We've obtained a winding-up order and closed everything other than his residential properties, although we still can't be certain we know about every property."

"I'm working on that, Emily."

"Yes, I know. It's still rather a complex situation but as we search the buildings we're coming across more ammunition and cash, hidden in otherwise ordinary places, some of which Fourani didn't own any more. The caches, that we've found, are spread across North and South London several miles apart."

"That sounds like advance planning for a revolution?"

"We guess it's an insurgency that was being planned, but when and by who? Maybe you'll find something?"

"I might have already, it's being analysed."

"Okay Gail, don't tell me as I'll only be briefed if it's relevant."

"Fair enough, but I've been warned not to say too much."

"Sensible advice. We're done unless you have any questions?"

"Nothing I can think about."

"Okay, can I suggest you get into the jacuzzi?"

"Good idea."

***

A soak, followed by lunch and Gail was starting to feel better. The self-defence workout was a good idea, as a woman she'd guessed she would be bound to encounter more problems than as a man. Add to that her security services role and she could become a target.

Helen was missing again, although no-one seemed to know why. Jenny found Gail.

"I've managed to get you an appointment for your hair but there's a slight problem."

"Problem?"

"Yes, given that I guessed you would want your hair done before Wednesday, I haven't been able to arrange for a stylist who has clearance to come here, I do however have someone who can see you at her salon after five when they normally close."

"So the problem is that I have to go out!"

"Yes, Anna is available and I'll arrange for a driver. Given that you're not known the risk is minimal and you're booked in under the name of Abi."

"How can you be certain this is safe?"

"The lady, Wendy, is my sister."

"Oh, is that allowed?"

"Yes, although it can be frowned upon. We've used her before for makeovers and she doesn't ask questions."

"Right, is it far?"

"About fifteen minutes away in Hitchin. Be ready to leave by 1645. You'll get dinner when you return."

Gail headed out into the garden and sneaked an ice cream from the summerhouse. Instead of sitting there she walked to the walled garden and sat in the central area on a bench, stretching her tortured legs out. It was so peaceful, there was just the sound of birdsong and the occasional bee dancing amongst the flowers. The air was heavy with scent, it was the closest to the perfect environment she could get.

Bang!

Gail spun around to see what had made the noise, dropping off the seat into a crouch as Anna had shown her. Across the far side, stood by a second gate, was a man carrying a shotgun. Gail decided to get out quickly and fled out of the garden. She realised she didn't have her bag so didn't have a pass for the security door. She ran straight into Jenny.

"Man with gun!" She pointed down the garden, panting & hysterical.

"Calm down Gail, did he have a peaked cap and a shotgun?"

"Yes."

"That'll be Bert, he's the vermin control man. He's been doing this for years, sort of came with the house. I obviously forgot to warn you he was going to be here today."

"Thanks." Gail was not sincere.

"Don't worry, he never hits anything because his eyesight's not too brilliant and we give him salt cartridges not buckshot."

"Even so? How was I to know that?"

"Well, I'm sorry. You won't see him again for a few weeks, if you're still here."

"I'll be in my room, I presume there's no marauding mole-hunters up there?"

"Unlikely."

Gail spent an hour upstairs, trying to kill time rather than get killed by projectile salt. She put the radio on but became depressed when all she could hear was wall-to-wall political rhétorique! She switched to a station with music output and flopped on the bed.

Gail stirred to the sound of a phone ringing.

"Hello?"

"Miss Jones, I was asked to let you know it's half past four."

"Thank you Lisa."

Gail's hair was a mess and her make-up needed work, but given she was going to a stylist, minimal war paint was needed. This time she remembered her bag and switched on her mobile, although there was no signal yet. She was downstairs and in the car-park by the appointed hour, just.

Expecting to use a van she was surprised to see a standard saloon car sat there, although she couldn't name the make. Anna suggested she sat in the back and they were off. This was the first time she experienced the drive through the underground roadway, coming out into the open air at a pair of serious looking gates, topped with barbed wire. The gateway was next to an apparent abandoned farm building bristling with Keep Out signs.

The car came out onto a typical country road, lots of bends and the occasional short straight bits. Signposts were strangely lacking although eventually she did spy a sign for Hitchin. They pulled up outside the salon just after five, Anna told Gail to remain in the vehicle while she checked the place out.

Wendy was the spitting image of Jenny and welcomed Gail as if she'd known her for years, "my sister has told me everything about you," she gushed. Gail wasn't so sure so just played along.

"Now, what are we going to do?"

"Could I have a tidy up and maybe lighten it, blonde perhaps?"

"With your hair I'm not sure that blonde would be sensible, why don't I darken the auburn you have but create highlights using foil?"

"That sounds right."

"Good, over to the sink then."

Two hours later, Gail was back in the car heading towards the house. The changes were subtle but screamed woman. Wendy had also found time to wax Gail's legs, from the knee down. Unfortunately the morning's bruises would be certain to show if she didn't wear tights.

It was a weary Gail who ate alone in the dining room, Anna had disappeared again.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 9

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Life, The Universe and Everything
 

Gail was alone in the pool again, and similarly at the breakfast table.

"Good morning Gail, you have a couple of appointments today."

"Not too many please Jenny, I do have a packed diary!"

Jenny managed a smile, even if the joke was becoming rather worn.

"Quite, the doctor would like to see you this morning, when he manages to get off the motorway, and Helen will be here for dinner."

"Not too bad then."

"No, also I can confirm your transport is arranged for tomorrow morning. The meeting is at ten so you'll head from here at eight thirty to make sure."

"That'll be fun, driving into central London in the morning."

The doctor finally arrived at ten o'clock, less than happy with Tuesday's M25 traffic, although the combine harvester on one of the nearby country roads came a close second place in his ire.

"Medical room please, is that nurse around?"

"I've not seen her this morning."

"Damn, I'm supposed to have a female present for any patient who presents female, if you get my gist. I'm sorry that it was overlooked two weeks ago."

Gail ignored the apology as too little too late. "Is the nurse there for your or my protection?"

"Both."

They reached the medical room and went in, but Doctor Hughes left the door open.

"An examination is out of the question, given the circumstances unless there's a problem?"

"No problem down there doctor."

"Fine, as usual tell me or Anna if there's anything, but I wouldn't expect any issues now. Right, next is an armful of your finest blood."

The repertoire of checks concluded with height, weight, blood pressure and a listen to her ticker.

"Good good, you've put on two kilos in the past ten days, plus your colour is better. We'll drop the iron tablets down to one a day, I guess you're remembering to take them plus the HRT?"

"Yes, although they're really birth control pills, aren't they?"

"Of course, but little point calling it a contraceptive in your case?"

She laughed.

"Now Gail, I think I don't need to see you again unless something crops up. Here's a prescription for sixty iron tablets, that'll be good for two months, by which time you should be registered with an NHS Doctor."

"I'd hope so, it's a bit stir crazy being stuck in here."

"I understand, I do, but there's a reason for everything whether or not we accept it."

"I know, and thanks."

Gail walked to her room and stared out of the window wondering if she'd finally explored all of the property? Could she get out undetected? Unlikely. What would happen to her security clearance if she decided to go solo, to escape? Could she re-establish herself?

Gail tried to busy herself but it wasn't working; the author Douglas Adams once wrote that 'Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so' and on this day Gail knew that to be very true.

When lunchtime had finally arrived she asked for a tray and took it down the garden, just for something different to do. Gail had no energy today for the fitness suite and no brainpower necessary for analysis of the accounts so she made her way back into the house as the skies were darkening and went to her room. She stared at the ceiling for a while then dozed off, mostly due to a lack of anything else better to do.

Gail was woken by a knocking on her door, although a few moments later there was a crash of thunder that would definitely have grabbed her attention.

There was a knock on her door again.

"Come in."

"Gail, we're worried about you."

Gail pulled herself up the bed, "hi Helen. I had nothing to do."

"I think we need to get you sorted for the long-term."

"Sometime soon?"

"Working on it. I understand you have a meeting at Thames House tomorrow?"

"That's right, the German federal security service will be there."

"Yes, I've been tasked with getting you there and back safely. Anna will join us but she's not cleared for Thames House yet, the best we can hope for is an 'accompanied' pass for her. You have a standard pass, as do I."

"What about the long-term?"

"Let's talk after dinner, you've got fifteen minutes to make yourself presentable."

"Why would I need to tart myself up, who's going to see me?"

"Right now, just us, but you need to be prepared for life, the universe and everything. Come on!"

Helen left Gail to it. The storm outside seemed to be ebbing as Gail made her way down. She'd changed out of her creased skirt and was now wearing a dress, with make-up repaired. She remembered her bag as well, this time.

Dinner was okay, but her appetite wasn't all there, so much for the doctor's good report that morning! Gail was ushered into the library by Helen as soon as they were done pushing food around, her friend had that brown envelope with her again.

"Let's finish this off, Gail. Here's a new Oyster card for the tubes and buses, there's no need to top it up. Next, we have new Institute of Accountancy certificates for Miss Abigail Adams, finally I have your indemnity insurance certificate and membership of the Chartered Institute of Internal Auditors."

"I can't afford their fees."

"It's covered."

"I also only did the basic course, so I can't have this."

"Yes you can, and don't worry about any training. Let's finish this then I'll tell you what we have in mind."

"Okay."

"We arranged a flat for you over a week ago in Amersham on the far western side of London. Initially it would be a correspondence address for you to establish your new identity but in time you would be able to use it."

"Use it for what?"

"To live there, as a base for your work."

"But what work would I be doing?"

"That depends on what comes up, but you would be a very selective independent accountant and auditor, Your clients might be individuals, families, small businesses, large companies or bigger corporate villains. You wouldn't need to go touting for work, it would be delivered to you. You'll brought in as a freelancer alone or part of a team to deal with cases of internal fraud, pre-taker accounts or maybe just the annual returns. While doing that you would analyse the accounts for Dave Brown's team."

"So would I be working on a salary from the security service?"

"Yes, although you'll have to declare any income from your fees."

"Of course. What about security?"

"The flat would be secure, of course, plus we'd arrange for Anna to share the flat for a while, it's a two bed apartment, until we found someone else or you were happy on your own? Obviously, you won't meet any clients at the flat."

"A bit of a change from here?"

"Yes, and you might already have moved if it were not for the more recent incidents."

"So when can it all happen?"

"Dave Brown is signing this off so plainly wants to talk to you before he agrees to a start date."

"Give me a clue, how soon?"

"We'll talk tomorrow."

 
Need To Know
 

Wednesday morning was dull, outside Gail's bedroom window at least, but she was getting out of the house for the second time this week so the weather was unimportant. Today's trip was one that many people only dream of; Gail was full of questions but Helen was not prepared to field many of them.

"Come on Helen, I want to know all about spy HQ."

"Gail, settle down, it's not spy HQ, it's the home of the Security Service. The spies are the other side of the river." Helen giggled.

The spies in this case were in their strange building on the South Bank of the Thames, as seen in recent James Bond movies. The First World War codename was MI6 but it's properly now known as the Secret Intelligence Service. Gail's trip, however, was to Thames House, home of the Security Service, also known as MI5, on the north side of the River Thames. It was a curious matter that the buildings of MI5 and MI6 faced each other across London's iconic river.

Their journey into Central London started in one of the blacked out vans but the driver soon used an intercom to talk to Helen.

"I've been told that the traffic on the A10 is lousy, there's a lorry on its' side by the North Circular junction. The whole area is at a standstill."

"Plan B then."

"Roger."

Anna, sat next to Gail, was less than happy with this development.

"We don't have enough personnel, I suggest we abort."

"That's not an option today."

Anna reached into her bag and pulled out her weapon, transferring it to a bum bag after checking it. Gail was starting to get worried.

"What's plan B?"

"We divert to Enfield station and take the train. Do you have your Oyster card?"

"It's in my bag."

"Good, but please keep that bag close to you this time."

The van dropped them at Enfield Station in North London and they quickly found a south-bound train into Liverpool Street. There was a procession across the busy concourse into the adjacent Underground Station, with Gail as the filling in a sandwich, Helen in front and Anna behind. They went through the gates together and straight onto the Circle Line Westbound platform, thankfully on the same level as the gates.

Helen insisted that they move close to a platform exit, in case of an incident, but her and Anna's constant scanning of the area brought them to the attention of a roving British Transport Police officer.

"Good morning Ladies, I'm a little concerned that you're acting suspiciously. Where have you come from today?"

"We caught a train from Enfield Town, officer."

"Do you have your tickets?"

"No, we all used our Oyster cards."

"Okay, where are you going?"

"Millbank."

"In that case your best stop is Westminster. What's the reason for your trip there?"

"A visit to The Tate, our first time there!"

"Enjoy your day, ladies."

The officer, seemingly satisfied, wandered away just as a Circle Line train was arriving. They said nothing to each other whilst on The Tube during the fifteen minute journey to Westminster Underground Station. Even once out of the Underground, in the shadow of the UK's Parliament, they walked in silence.

Finally they reached Victoria Tower Gardens on the southern side of the Palace Of Westminster. The crowds were thinning out and Helen was reasonably sure they wouldn't be overheard.

"I must say I was a little worried back at Liverpool St."

Anna was more direct, "we should have aborted the journey as I said."

"No, this is more than a sightseeing tour and can't be re-arranged."

Gail decided to stay out of the argument, even though she was the reason they were walking alongside the River Thames. Ten minutes later they reached the impressive front entrance of Thames House, home of the Security Service.

"Anna, your pass couldn't be arranged in time so I suggest you meet us back here at 2pm."

Anna was now even less impressed with Helen's decisions but had little choice, you do not get into this building without prior clearance. Helen and Gail walked up the steps together and through the outer doors. A light on one of the doorway scanners flashed and two guards moved towards the ladies. Helen spoke softly but without hesitation.

"Good morning, yes I'm carrying a firearm, I will of course be handing it in. My permit and pass are in my bag, my colleague has her pass but this is the first time she's been here. She is not carrying a weapon."

She was directed the visitor reception and instructed to place her weapon in a hopper set into the wall, once she'd shown her pass. Gail was also asked for her pass, so handed it over.

"Miss Adams, I see this is your first visit to Thames House."

"Yes."

"What's your connection to Miss Bell?"

"She's my security escort today and has been my liaison with the Security Service and Met Police for three weeks."

"Okay. You're clear to proceed to the Yellow zone. Given that you've not been here before I have asked for an escort however your pass is authorised for unescorted access to the Yellow zone and Green Zones. Please make sure your pass is on show at all times."

The receptionist handed back Gail's pass and now addressed Helen.

"You're needed in Personnel."

That was that. They now proceeded to a set of airlocks and pressed their passes on a panel, opening the first door. There was a delay of thirty seconds before the second door opened with a slight hiss, they were now inside the secure area.

"Helen, do we have to do that every time we come here?"

"'Fraid so. I'm off to Personnel, I'll catch up with you at lunchtime."

Gail stood there as people passed in and out of the building and didn't see the young man approaching.

"Miss Adams?"

"Err, yes."

"I'm from Mr Brown's team, would you like to come with me?"

***

Gail next saw Helen a few hours later and was feeling exhausted as they carried their lunch trays to a vacant table in the self-service restaurant. Gail guessed that telling Helen anything about the morning's meeting was out of the question at the moment, similarly asking Helen about her own appointment was not permissible here.

"Are you finished with meetings, Gail?"

"Yes. It's only 1pm so what do we do when we've finished lunch?"

"I have a treat for you."

Helen took Gail up in one of the lifts and exited on the Executive Level. They walked past a long line of offices following signs for 'Terrace'. Finally, after the fourth set of doors, they walked into daylight. There was a lounge area but beyond that was a glass wall with views along the Thames and across central London. Almost directly across was the rather odd MI6, or Secret Intelligence Service, HQ. As the day's early low cloud had lifted, the sun was now shining brightly. The view was, truthfully, impressive.

"Wow!"

"Indeed, I still remember the first time I came up here."

Gail took in the view, wishing she had a camera but understanding that she wouldn't have got it into the building. It was with regret that they headed back to the lifts and descended to the main lobby. Helen had to arrange to collect her firearm, which delayed them for a few minutes. Finally they passed through the exit airlocks before they walked down the steps and into the street.

Anna wasn't to be seen so Helen pulled out her phone, checked there was a signal and called Anna's number.

"Okay, see you there."

Helen turned to the South with Gail following.

"Where are we going?"

"Tate Britain."

"Is Anna there, enjoying the art?"

"No, she's in the café dealing with her caffeine habit."

Helen and Gail took a few minutes to reach the gallery, although crossing Millbank was a challenge in itself with the constant black cabs, red buses and multicoloured coaches. Once in the building they followed the signs to the café, finding Anna in a far corner, surveying the room. She did not look happy.

"If you propose this fiasco again, I'm resigning from the job."

"Calm down Anna, I didn't exactly have an easy day either, and I have no idea how Gail got on as yet."

They sat to drink the coffees Anna had organised then Gail asked one of the most important questions of the day.

"How are we getting back?"

Anna now looked smug, "the van will be outside at two thirty. That's five minutes from now, drink up and and get moving."

"Who put you in charge?" Asked Helen, although she wasn't going to argue.

Anna ignored the comment and led them down to the street. Their transport pulled up almost immediately and they climbed in for their ride back to the country house.

"Well Gail, tell us about your day?"

"Interesting and need-to-know. Sorry."

The rest of the ride was in near silence.

 
Nutters
 

Gail headed to her room, taking the lift from the underground parking area direct to her floor. She was in no mood for Helen or Anna's bickering and was trying to get a hang on what she had seen and heard several hours earlier in Thames House.

She stripped and slipped into her bath, turning on the tiny jets. The aim, of course, was to relax her before any more hassle started. She'd been warned by Dave Brown about who did have the authority to be told what had been discussed, Helen and Anna were not on that list, but Emily Keane was. Even then, what she'd learned about the structure of MI5 was for her ears only.

There had been several briefings during that morning, starting with Dave Brown's assistant giving her an idea about what they were doing with her data and how she could improve what she was sending them, they called it 'the product' and said the quality of the product was key to a successful investigation. The officers from the Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND) joined them a little while later. By agreement the meeting was in English, although one of Dave's team was a German speaker - just in case.

The German security officers had been kept informed of the Fourani investigation from the very first day when Hamiz was found dead in Düsseldorf. Their investigations had been concluded as the murderer had been arrested in London. Of greater concern now was the flow of money, arms and drugs between the UK and Germany, plus the implied support of terrorist groups. The greatest threat in Europe was from Al-Qaeda affiliates, one of which had been sent money from Hamiz Fourani.

"We are considering our options."

They wouldn't be drawn on the exact nature of their investigation beyond the terse statement. Gail was more open with them. A set of the Fourani accounts had been loaded into a laptop and displayed on a screen. Gail spent some time explaining what she'd found but neglected to say she had built the files herself. Dave had warned her not to say anything that could give away her identity. Even so, one of the Germans did ask if she was free after lunch.

Once the Germans had left the building Gail and Dave sat down alone, one of the matters Dave Brown had wanted to discuss was when Gail could move to her own apartment. This conversation was held over coffee in one of the senior management lounges, well away from anyone else. Dave had been straightforward when he spoke to Gail, finish the Fourani accounts first because she couldn't take those files with her. This had confused Gail as she, or David, had created the files. The answer was simple, why would Abigail Adams have files created by David Jones that were the subject of a criminal investigation. Gail had no answer to this.

So, first finish the accounts, then arrangements would be put in place. There would be a transitional phase whereby Gail was seen in the local shops but was still staying at the house; this would test for any leakage, in security terms. How long before the move was now in Gail's hands, although she was warned not to rush.

Gail had also been told that she needed to continue her self defence training. This, she was told, was that a woman is two or three times more likely to be assaulted in a random attack, she needed to be able to defend herself. He'd also suggested she had a couple more sessions in the firing range, she was unsure why.

"Because it's there and you might not have access to those weapons again," she was told.

Gail laid in the warm water for twenty minutes but her skin was starting to resemble a prune so she reluctantly got out and manoeuvred herself into the shower cabinet. As the water danced off her chest she felt a tingling sensation from her nipples that was not entirely unpleasant.

By the time she was out of the bathroom it was nearly five o'clock so she blow dried her damp hair into shape then attended to her make-up. Now that she was completely refreshed she walked downstairs, it was now only 30 minutes before dinner so she walked to the library to undertake one task.

There was an email from Dave Brown:

 

To: Abigail Adams
From: Dave Brown
Subject: Today's meetings
 
Hi Gail
 
Thanks for coming to see us today, my team were really impressed with your knowledge of the Fourani accounts and how you've identified the anomalies. Plainly the BND are concerned about any apparent legitimate organisation that is really a front for a terrorist group and the Iranian Centre for Cultural Exchange might meet this criteria. I've heard this afternoon that they are planning to hit it very soon.
 
I hope you can manage the fortnightly meetings here, they'll be beneficial for both of us. My offer stands, by the way, if the freelance work doesn't succeed then you're welcome to join my team and work here, keep that in mind.
 
Regards
Dave

 

Gail smiled, she now had a place to go, if she needed it, and Dave Brown seemed very genuine. Her guide for the day, Andy, had been very charming but had stopped short of asking Gail for a date, never mind,

After logging off she made her way to the dining room and was pleasantly surprised to see Emily sat there. Helen and Anna seemed to be engaged in non-verbal warfare so Gail changed her usual seat to be closer to Emily. Tonight, for a change, there was a bottle of red wine on the table, Emily poured Gail a glass, her first alcohol for about a fortnight.

Emily proposed a toast, "a successful day." Their glasses clinked, the other two were not invited to join the toast.

"How's the new job going, Emily?"

"Busy but I'm really enjoying the challenge. I'll definitely apply for inspector next time there's a promotion board."

"If you don't get the promotion how long could you remain as acting inspector?"

"How long is a piece of string? Difficult to know, DI Reynolds could come back or another experienced Inspector might be moved to my unit or someone else promoted to take my place."

"How are the rest of the team taking it?"

"They're professionals so personal feelings don't come into it. Having said that, several of the female, and younger male, officers have lodged complaints against DI Reynolds so the investigation will widen to include this."

"It doesn't sound as if he'll be back."

"Maybe, but there is the chance, however small, that he'll be cleared. Now, we must have a chat about your day after dinner."

"Yes."

Dinner was served, interrupting any conversation, although Emily and Gail would not discuss national security issues at the table. They took a refill of wine into the library and settled into two of the comfortable armchairs.

"Gail, I understand that the BND are going after an Iranian centre in Düsseldorf that's a front for an Al-Qaeda affiliate. Your research has proved the Fouranis were supporting Al-Qaeda operations in Europe. This may explain why they were so keen to remove you from the scene, in case you could prove the paper trail."

"Quite, but why did the German hitmen take out both Fourani brothers? BND are having trouble with this."

"I suspect that Al-Qaeda wanted to expand in Germany and use that as a base for all of Europe, the remains of Baader-Meinhof were not prepared to accept that and wanted to cut off the Al-Qaeda funding."

"But Hamiz Fourani was paying the Germans as well, obtaining his weapons and ammunition through them."

"It's complex, but we believe Fourani was hedging his bets, whether the far right German groups tried to establish here or whether it was the Al-Qaeda lot. He built arms dumps that his own men could have access to and sold excess weapons to other criminals. A very dirty business."

"What's the risk against me now?"

"If the BND can take out the Iranian centre, that should prevent anyone paying for the contract - if there's no money then there's no job. Remember, everyone who's had a pop at you so far is either in custody or, in one case, dead."

"True, it's just whether there's another nutter out there."

Emily laughed, "London is a city full of nutters, especially those politicians in Westminster!"

Gail nearly spat her wine out. "Quite! I take it you're staying tonight?"

"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't be on the fermented grape juice, would I? I have a task here tomorrow before heading to my office."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night, you did good today."

Gail tried to watch the TV evening news but was feeling sleepy. What was going on between Helen and Anna? It wouldn't be resolved tonight so no need for her to worry about it, before the morning that was. After a wash she changed into a clean nightie, noticing that the bedding had been changed whilst she was out. Under the fresh linen Gail was so comfortable that she fell asleep within a minute.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 10

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Stalling

Gail woke in a positive mood, she now had a clear idea of what was necessary to get out of the house and set up on her own. There was also the fall-back promise of a job inside the Security Service, yesterday's trip had been worth it despite Anna's objections.

She swam alone and took her time showering afterwards, finally joining Emily and Helen for breakfast later than usual, Anna was absent and Gail was unsure if she should ask. In the end, Helen decided to tell her.

"Anna has left us, she has been removed from the post."

"Oh, why?"

"I'm not able to say at the moment, we'll decide shortly if you need another protection officer but it's clear you don't need a nurse now."

"True." Gail was confused, Anna hadn't been friendly at all yesterday but was that reason enough to lose her? "Helen, was this connected to your meeting yesterday?"

"Sorry Gail, I can't say."

Gail also knew that Emily had stayed overnight to attend to a task, but that hadn't involved herself so was it connected to Anna? Anyway, Gail now needed someone else.

"Helen, Anna was starting a self-defence class with me, I would like to continue it."

"I'll speak to Jenny and see what we can do."

"Thanks."

Emily had sat there quietly and clearly didn't want to get drawn in. Without waiting for a refill to her tea she left, apologising she couldn't stay longer. She stood and walked towards the hallway.

"I have a ten o'clock meeting with the Assistant Commissioner, unfortunately. Here's my new business card if you feel you need to talk."

"Thanks, bye."

"Bye."

Gail turned to speak to Helen but she had disappeared. Gail really wanted to find out more about Anna's sudden departure but would remain in the dark for now. Without anything better to do she walked into the library and shut the door behind her.

During yesterday's meetings in Château MI5 Gail had been promised the relevant IBAN codes for each of the German Banks plus a full list of the international prefixes. That information had arrived by email so Gail printed it off. When she collected the sheets they were each headed "NOT PROTECTIVELY MARKED", even unrestricted information has to be marked in this strange environment.

Now she started on the very latest accounts, those that finished on 1st April 2014, working backwards. Dave Brown had asked her specifically to search for any one-off German account transfers so she used Excel's search facility to scan the worksheets. This took some time given the sheer number of German financial houses but she had a hit on one account that was disguised as a routine payment, with only the account number to tell otherwise.

Gail had trouble finding the associated paperwork for this entry and kicked herself for not spotting this whilst Hamiz Fourani had been alive. Too late to worry about that now. She ploughed on, diving into the previous tax year, 2012-2013, to make the same searches. As each year was a separate sheet, in a separate workbook, the searches were done manually. Gail was sure she could have done this faster with a VBA program but she'd never bothered to investigate Microsoft Excel © to that extent.

Another hour's work produced six similar responses, although none of them exactly matching the others. These were anomalies, to be sure. Gail typed them up into an email and sent it off to Dave Brown's team.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when she exited the library and headed towards the natural light of the conservatory. Jenny found her almost immediately.

"I understand you would like some self-defence training?"

"Yes, I had done one session with Anna before...."

"I know. Anyway, one of the security team is a qualified instructor and is happy to do a session with you each morning before breakfast when they would otherwise do their own workout."

"Thank you, what time?"

"As soon after seven as you can get down to the fitness suite. Now, would you like a coffee?"

"Yes please."

Gail sat and picked up her newspaper, it was as full of doom and gloom as ever. On the Home News pages there was a short article about a Metropolitan Police Inspector who had been charged with subverting the course of justice. The Inspector wasn't named but Gail had a good idea who. The question was, however, why 'subverting' and not under the Official Secrets Act? Maybe there was some bargaining going on? Also, why hadn't Emily mentioned this?

An unrelated short article reported that a senior Essex Police Officer had been sacked after indecent images were found on his home computer. Gail again suspected who this was and that there had been a cover-up.

Lisa brought her a coffee, and some post.

"Lisa, is Helen still in the building?"

"No Miss, Miss Bell left just after breakfast."

Gail waited for Lisa to leave then attended to the day's mail. This was the first post she'd seen in three weeks but it was very predictable, all four letters were from her bank. One was the PIN for her debit card, another was the PIN for her credit card, next was a statement and lastly the sign-on information for internet banking.

The statement showed the deposits that Helen had told her about, including a salary payment from Coleman & Sons. Gail laughed, this was the company name on her ID card. It was plainly done this way so that anyone couldn't make the connection to MI5, but in this case her alleged employer was a manufacturer of mustard, yellow mustard! Gail pondered this, if she had access to the Yellow Zone of Thames House then maybe someone requiring access to the Red Zone would have an ID from a strawberry jam maker?

Gail checked the address shown on the statement, it was in Amersham but without a map it would be difficult to see where it was, Gail definitely needed to be close to the station and hoped that someone had remembered that when sorting out the flat. She gathered up the paperwork and took it up to her room, dropping the envelopes in the bin.

Her phone rang, "Hello?"

"Hello Gail, just to let you know your driving instructor has arrived."

"What?"

"Your driving instructor."

"I know nothing about it."

"Helen had the information a few days ago."

"And didn't pass it on. Great. Is the instructor cleared?"

"He's a police instructor."

"Okay, give me a moment to choose some sensible shoes, fix my make-up, get out of this skirt ..."

"I'll tell him ten minutes, please remember to take your pass and phone."

Gail took eleven minutes, the extra minute was taken while she headed back to the bedroom to collect her handbag.

"Hello, I'm Gail."

"As in Abigail Adams?"

"The same." He had obviously been given the cover identity.

"Have you driven before?"

"Never."

"Hop in the passenger side and we'll go somewhere safe."

He drove her out of the underground roadway then out of the security gate before turning hard left and into a farm entrance. They reached a security gate that was hidden from the road then continued past some farm buildings, parking in a marked 'waiting' area.

"Okay Gail, let's swap places. This is a test area for advanced driving and we're the only visitors today. The car is a manual, if you want to drive an automatic after you pass then that's your choice."

Gail was wondering why she'd let herself be railroaded, but this tuition would set her back £50 an hour in parts of London.

"How many lessons do I get?"

"Your test is booked for next Thursday."

"Next Thursday?"

"That's what I just said. Now, our time is limited, we only have until 1pm and it's well past 11."

"Okay, okay, what's your name?"

"John."

"Thanks, John, just tell me what to do."

Gail stalled the car ten times in five minutes getting used to the clutch, crashed the gearbox several times and wiped the windows when she was supposed to be indicating a turn. Fairly standard new driver issues. As the roads were private there was no traffic to contend with and no-one to see her mistakes.

It was approaching one o'clock when John called a halt and asked Gail to drive them back to the house.

"On the road?"

"This isn't a ruddy flying car."

"I mean, oh, forget it."

She carefully drove to the farm's security gate which opened automatically and out briefly onto the small road that fed the house's private entrance. Gail pulled up at the gate not certain what to do.

"Do you have a pass?"

"In my bag, I'll find it."

"Typical woman."

"I heard that!"

"Sorry."

"I have my pass, what do I do with it?"

"Open the window, there's a card reader in the wall."

Indeed there was, the gate slid open and Gail drove forward then down the ramp into the roadway. A minute later she pulled up in the underground car-park, then stalled the car. The instructor pulled on the hand-brake as Gail had forgotten.

She was already getting out of the car when he reminded her.

"Eleven o'clock prompt tomorrow."

Gail didn't say anything and just walked up to the security door to get into the house itself. She was wondering where her pass had gone when there was a call from behind.

"Would you like your bag?"

 
Justin
 

Thursday's lunch was quiet, Gail found herself eating alone, again. Jenny was keeping out of the way too with Lisa on solo table duty. Once that was concluded, Gail wondered what to do for the afternoon. She still had her bag with her so went outside then turned left to reach a security door, her pass unlocked the door and she entered the control suite.

"Who are you?"

"Abigail Adams, and I'd like to use the range."

"This is a restricted area, you shouldn't be able to get in here."

"My pass is valid for here, could you please ask the range officer if I can go in?"

Gail could tell that the officer hadn't met her before but surely he'd been briefed? He picked up a telephone and spoke briefly before hanging up.

"Can you wait for a couple of minutes, that is wait for the green light?"

"Thank you. I'm also supposed to be having some self-defence training in the mornings, do you know who that might be with?"

"That'll be me, Justin"

"Thanks Justin, don't be too hard on me."

"I'll try, but an attacker wouldn't give you an easy time."

The range safety light turned green so Gail didn't need to give a response. She opened the range door and walked inside.

***

Gail removed her ear defenders and shook out her hair. This had been hard work, the range officer had been acting as a tutor and hadn't been light on her. Her aim, however, was improving as well as her handling in general. She arranged for another session the following day.

Figuring she needed a shower she headed upstairs but instead changed into a swimsuit and walked down to the pool for her second swim of the day, this time she wanted the steam room as well.

***

Suitably cleansed and relaxed, Gail walked into the library and settled down to do some analysis of the Fourani accounts. Following a request from Dave Brown at the Security Service she was going backwards through the accounts, having started on the 2014 accounts a few days earlier.

By four thirty she had decided that was sufficient for the day and took a slow walk out of the conservatory and along the paved path, ending up outside the walled garden. Inside was Justin sat on a bench, Gail joined him.

"Hello Miss Adams."

"It's Gail. Hi again."

"I'm sorry I was a bit abrupt earlier but I hadn't read my security briefing fully, I was expecting some middle-aged woman and not a lovely young lady."

Gail pondered this back-handed compliment, "I take it that you've read the briefing now?"

"Yes, apologies again."

"Apologies accepted."

"I'd like to make it up to you."

"How?"

"Dinner?"

"I always eat here."

"So I was told but I'm part of your security detail so how about dinner for two tonight in one of the nearby pubs?"

"Is that appropriate?"

"I might be stretching the rules slightly (cough) but think I can justify it. Be ready for seven, I'll inform the housekeeper."

"Okay, I accept."

He leant over and gave Gail a kiss on the cheek, causing her to blush profusely. Feeling embarrassed he immediately stood and withdrew to the house, leaving Gail wondering what she'd started.

Gail waited there, not entirely sure if she should change her mind, that was her prerogative after all? Finally she walked back up to the house and met Lisa in the hallway.

"I won't be eating here tonight."

"Yes Miss, I have just been told."

"Is there a problem?" Gail wasn't entirely certain of Lisa's position.

"No, erm, no Miss."

"Thank you Lisa. I best get myself ready, could I have a pot of tea, please?"

"Certainly."

Gail helped herself up the stairs and, one on her room, started pulling frocks out of the large wardrobe. The pile of rejections was growing on her bed as she heard a knock on the door. "Come in Lisa."

Jenny was the one who brought the tray in, she was plainly not happy.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Trying to work out what to wear, are you going to help?"

"NO! I am very close to vetoing this plan and sending young Justin back where he came from."

"Look, Jenny, why take it out on me? He was a bit sweet and may be stretching the rules a little but I actually get an evening out and, if I'm not wrong, there's no-one else here?"

"No-one else? Ha! Do you have any idea how many have to be fed each day, and not just you, my prima donna."

"Jenny, is that what you really think? Am I a bloody tart? I've spent three weeks incarcerated and out of the blue I get an offer of a meal out with a polite gentleman. Whilst this is a new experience for me there's no way I manufactured the situation. Take what opinion you wish but I'm going out! Now, I would like to shower so, if you don't mind ...."

Jenny spun on her heels and exited Gail's room; this was not over, apparently.

Gail actually had almost two hours to spare so it was barely enough time to get herself readied for the evening, but she first had an idea. Four minutes later she was back outside, carrying her bag, walking into the walled garden. She sat down and prayed this would work, as she turned on her phone. Hopefully this far from the house she might get a signal?

She scrolled down the names looking for Helen's number, amazingly it started ringing.

"Hello Gail?"

"Hi Helen. I need to talk to you."

"Where are you?"

"At the house."

"I can't get there right now, is it urgent?"

"I think so."

"Right, can you see the yellow padlock emblem on display?"

"Yes."

"Press that in 3 seconds, it will take a few more to work."

"Okay."

The display background on Gail's phone turned into a large yellow padlock with the word 'Secured' written across it.

"Are you still there, Gail?"

"Yes Helen."

"So, what's the issue?"

Gail recounted her conversations with Justin, plus her experience with the driving instructor, ending up with Jenny's attitude problem.

"I see. Firstly my mistake that I forgot to tell you when your first lesson was happening. No excuse for the instructor's behaviour though. When's your next lesson?"

"Eleven tomorrow."

"I'll try to deal with it before then. Now, the Justin case."

Gail snickered, Helen hadn't realised what she'd said. She continued.

"He's a qualified close protection officer but I have some concerns here so can understand Jenny's position. However, if you are going to be in the outside world again very soon then you need to experience life as a woman. To that end I'll authorise the evening."

"Thank you."

"Gail, I know you are feeling caged in there but it won't be for much longer. Go to your room and get ready, I'll call Jenny and put her mind at rest."

"Thanks Helen. Are you coming here over the weekend?"

"Sunday maybe, depending on other things."

"What can you tell me about Anna's sudden departure?"

"Nothing yet, sorry. Anyway, get up to your room and get moving."

"Yes, Mum,"

"Cheeky!"

Back upstairs, for the third time that day, Gail stepped into the shower. This time she made certain that all of her make-up was off, that her hair was conditioned, her skin moisturised and any body hairs were razored into non-existence.

That only left the issue of what to wear.

At seven on the dot Gail let herself into the car-park and met Justin by their transport for the evening. He held a door open for her as she swept her maxi dress into the car. The journey wasn't long, no more than fifteen minutes, and Justin pulled into the entrance of a sixteenth century inn. Gail waited until he'd walked round and opened her door before making any move to exit the vehicle.

Several hours later, Gail crawled into bed, her own bed naturally. Justin had been the perfect gentleman and the meal had been acceptable, although the house wine was not. Gail was asleep almost instantly.

 
MCP
 

It was almost the weekend so Gail thought she could have a bit of a lie in, foregoing her morning swim. No such luck as just after seven her phone rang.

"Had you forgotten?"

"Forgotten what, who is this?"

"Justin, I'm in the fitness suite expecting you for your self-defence lesson."

"Oh, heck. Give me a few minutes, I don't think my nightie is appropriate?"

"That's a shame."

"Get lost!" She did however laugh as she said it.

Gail didn't bother with a bra and her falsies, just throwing on a vest and clean undies, then her sweats. That would have to do for now. She looked in the mirror and decided this was a bad hair day but quick work with a damp brush sorted out the worst of it, at least she didn't now look like she'd be dragged through a bush.

It was quarter past seven when she arrived at the fitness suite, Justin stood there with hands on hips.

"Sorry, I could make a sexist remark right now, but I guess you aren't in the mood?"

"No, Justin, I had enough of that from the driving instructor yesterday. Can we just get on with it?"

They worked on a few techniques, not quite the same as Anna's methods, but Gail was not happy.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"No it isn't."

"Look Justin, I had a lovely evening yesterday but I'm not sure if this is appropriate."

"In what way?"

"Sorry." Gail turned and walked out, she figured that Justin may try to stop her but was past caring. She was fond of Justin but did not want to become involved with him. Did he know her secret? How far could a relationship go? She had no real answers to these questions as she entered her bedroom and turned the key in the door.

Now Gail was truly confused, she hadn't considered what might happen if she became too close to any of the staff and hadn't planned for the eventuality - as if you could. She flounced onto her bed and curled up, sobbing. Had she done something wrong? How was she supposed to feel? How would a real woman feel? She still didn't know any answers.

It was ten minutes before she felt able to get into the shower, using copious amounts of tissues to blot her eyes, rather silly as she was about to soak them anyway. That's human nature for you.

By the time she made it downstairs for breakfast the redness in her eyes had faded although he appetite had escaped. A few minutes after she arrived she felt distinctly unwell and ran to her room, almost knocking Lisa over on the stairs. She had an urgent appointment in the bathroom and needed to get there immediately, pausing only to turn the key in her door.

All was not well as she sat on the porcelain throne. Finally she felt able to get up but slipped a pantyliner into her knickers, just in case. What had caused this? It seemed that a nightie was appropriate.

Gail remembered the two glasses of wine she had the previous evening, she hadn't been happy about the quality but had not complained as she didn't want to spoil the evening. She fell onto her bed and again curled up, falling asleep as she hugged her stomach.

It was another fifteen minutes before anything happened, although to Gail it could have been hours. She was stirred as the phone rang, Jenny went straight to the point when Gail answered after almost thirty seconds.

"What's wrong?"

"Stomach."

"How bad?"

"Acid."

"What do you think the cause is?

"Maybe last night's wine, it wasn't the best."

"Leave that with me, I'll get Lisa to bring up some antacid and a cold bottle of water for you."

"Thanks, my door's locked."

"Don't worry about that."

"Thanks Jenny."

She rang off, it didn't seem to take very long after the phone reached the cradle before there was a knock at the door, followed by Lisa entering.

"How did you get in?"

"It's a security measure in case one of our other guests decides to be silly. Now, I'll get a glass from your bathroom so you can take this."

Lisa left shortly after and Gail slumbered for a few hours. It was lunchtime before she was able to get back out of bed, even if this was a short trip into the bathroom. By her next trot to the porcelain throne she was feeling a little better and had finished half a litre of water, almost a pint. When she next awoke the bottle had been replaced with chilled water indicating there had been a visitor.

Finally at five she felt able to get up, the risk being that she wouldn't sleep that night. She wrapped a dressing gown around her and slid feet into into some comfy mule slippers then gingerly walked out of her room, mindful that she didn't want to be too far from the loo.

She met Jenny on the stairs.

"Gail, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I can't lay up there all day and I hope the worst is over."

"If you want to sit in the conservatory I can have some sandwiches brought to you in case you feeling hungry later?"

"Not sure but thanks for the thought."

"It's nothing, now I'll have Lisa strip and remake your bed so it's fresh when you get back up there."

"Thanks again."

Gail shuffled down the stairs and headed to the back of the house. It was quiet, Gail took advantage of a foot stall and soon had her feet up. Jenny brought a jug of iced water and a glass, there was some lemon and lime in the water, and a couple of antacids on the tray. Her newspaper was also waiting for her.

"Jenny, what happened to the driving instructor?"

"Oh, you had a lesson this morning? I think the security team dealt with him after he made some disparaging comments about you. His manager was expecting him in the office an hour later."

Giggle, "he definitely fell into the MCP category."

"MCP?"

"Male Chauvinist Pig."

It was Jenny's turn to laugh. "Oh, that restaurant you went to last night?"

"Yes?"

"It had a visit from the health inspector at lunchtime who ordered the destruction of their wine stock, none of which was as claimed."

"Serves them bloody right."

"I don't suppose you'll go back there?"

"Not likely, even with the promise of a free lunch."

"Come on Gail, don't turn down everything automatically. Anyway, I'm sorry about last night, I wasn't up to speed on the plan but Helen explained that you'll be going out into the real world again soon."

"That is the plan, but first I have to finish a job."

"Not today you don't, and take tomorrow easy too."

"Thanks Jenny."

The plate of sandwiches, salmon and cucumber, arrived soon after and Gail felt brave enough to try one. She also had a stab at the crossword in the paper and checked what was happening in the outside world; nothing good as it happens. In European news there was a report of several raids in German cities by anti-terrorist police. She smiled, knowingly, then picked up another sandwich.

At one point Justin came into the conservatory, looking quite chasten. "I've been told that you're unwell probably because of last night's meal. I'd like to apologise."

"It wasn't your fault the wine was off."

"No, but I took you there. You also might have misinterpreted me?"

"In what way?" Gail was toying with him, plainly feeling strong enough.

"I have feelings for you, that's unprofessional and wrong, I'm going to ask to be taken off the operation."

"Justin, I'm happy to work with you so long as you respect me and we keep this a business relationship. Understand?"

"Yes, boss."

He sauntered off outside, slightly happier than when he walked in. He hadn't, however, noticed Jenny in the doorway from the house.

"You're learning Gail!"

"It just felt like the right thing to say. It's not Justin, I'm simply not ready for any relationships."

"Take it at your own pace, you'll work it all out in the end. That reminds me, Dr Young phoned yesterday, she'd like to see you on Monday as it's almost two weeks since your last appointment."

"Oh, you mean Hannah? I liked her."

"It's the first time we've used her but it looks like she'll stay on our books considering the number of gender confused folks there are in the Security Service these days. It used to be a sacking offence you know."

"I can guess."

Jenny changed her tack, "I see you've finished the sandwiches. Would you like anything else?"

"A yoghurt or something similar?"

"How about a banana with Greek yoghurt?"

"Sounds good."

Gail finally made it back to her room just after eight, as promised the bedding was fresh. She did however allow herself a quick shower before sleep took priority.
 
----
 
This book - Accountancy Can Be Deadly - concludes with Part 12.

This book, and the follow-up - Spying By Numbers - are also both available for Kindle.

The third book, Diminishing Returns is currently in production.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 11

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Spooks
 

Saturday was almost a complete non-event for Gail. Her energy levels were well down, her appetite was nearly non-existent and her willingness to chat was absent. Indeed, she probably said less than a dozen words between rising and returning to her bed in the evening.

She woke at a decent hour on the Sunday morning but any talk of self-defence or driving tuition was still off the menu, she could however manage a light breakfast.

The day itself started slow and even seemed to drag. The Sunday paper wasn't as fulfilling as normal but the country was still in 'silly season' when the Government was on summer holiday. Gail did take a walk down to the summerhouse and helped herself, perhaps unwisely, to an ice cream. There were no ill-effects thankfully so she just sat in the late summer sunshine listening to the sounds around her.

She'd grown fond of a wicker chair that had several large cushions to make it more comfortable. It was big enough to curl her legs up so she was facing towards the lake. In this relaxed state she didn't hear or see anyone approaching.

"Good morning Gail."

She span around suddenly towards the voice, regretting the sharp movement instantly. Gail grabbed her neck and rubbed it as recognition kicked in.

"Hi Helen."

"I understand that you weren't well?"

"I suppose it was self-inflicted?"

Helen pulled another chair over. "Nonsense, the wine you had was off but contained a chemical to mask it so you couldn't have known. I've seen you handle two, or three, glasses before and it's not a big problem. It looks like new management will be needed in that pub though!"

"So why wasn't Justin unwell?"

"He was on soft drinks, wasn't he? That's what he said when he was interviewed."

"Interviewed? That serious?"

"Yes, definitely. We had to eliminate if there was a risk to you."

"I suppose so Helen, am I that valuable?" Her eyes watered and she reached for a tissue.

"Of course you are, all of our guests here are valuable, in their own special way. Talking of which, we've had to speed things up a little as the house is needed for another guest at the weekend."

"Someone like me?"

"No, this one's coming from another country and is more like the standard visitor for here."

"I'm intrigued."

"Sorry Gail, nothing more can be said. Now, how about you move on Friday?"

"Can everything be ready? I haven't finished the accounts."

"We're working on that. One thing is that you'll still need a close protection officer until we know the threat's been dealt with."

"How can that be done?"

"We still have the plan whereby David is killed off."

"But didn't Diane give up my new name?"

"She only knew you as Gail, not as Abigail, so I suggest using Abi as your name for any social contacts. There's also the issue of finding someone, anyone, in London, even with the correct full name."

"True, the hiding in plain sight principle?"

"That's it, however you will still have someone with you."

"Okay, who?"

"I could say Justin but I bet you'd object?"

"You bet I would, I couldn't handle a male, there would be implications."

"We'll work on it, something else for the brainstorming."

"So, what's there to do?"

"How about we decide what clothes and accessories can be moved by van on Monday or Tuesday and you can see the flat at the same time?"

"I have Hannah here Monday, but I don't know what time? Plus I'm supposed to be having driving lessons."

"We'll shelve the lessons for now, but a little more self-defence could be useful. Now, onto the most important issue."

"What's that?"

"Ice cream!"

Gail's mood had changed during just that short chat with Helen, she finally had a defined leaving date, even if it was because the house was needed for a spook from an unnamed country. Then she remembered, doing the work she did, could class her as a spook too. She was back in her room by now, changing her skirt due to a small accident with the chocolate shell of the ice cream.

Taking the opportunity to have a freshen, she actually felt up to lunch today; her tummy had actually settled - just as well considering the freezing treatment it had just had.

Gail and Helen sat together for lunch, careful not to discuss anything they has said earlier. Gail had no idea of the consequences but believed only her and Helen knew of the plans. Surprisingly Helen invited her into the range after lunch.

"Why?"

"It's precautionary, but it never hurts to learn?"

"Okay, but I'm not doing bad."

"Let's go."

An hour on the range with Helen was a challenge as well as a practice, it left Helen feeling bad about it.

"Sorry."

"What about?" Gail was panting after the activity.

"I did beat you."

"I didn't think there was a competition, besides seems you have had much more practice!"

"Hmmmm, maybe."

They'd moved into the conservatory, giving Gail access to the ammunition there, although it wasn't clear who threw the first cushion.

There was a cough, causing both to look up; Jenny glared for a moment then walked away. The girls recovered their senses, replaced the cushions and straightened their clothing.

"How about we meet after dinner," asked Helen?

"Sure, maybe?"

"Still not 100% ?"

"Guess not."

"Go have a lie down."

Gail felt like saying something but knew Helen was right; she wasn't firing on all cylinders that day so a couple of hours R&R wouldn't do any harm.

They both walked up the stairs to their rooms, going opposite ways at the top. Gail kicked off her shoes as she walked in the door before flopping on the bed. There was a fresh water bottle from which she poured into a glass. Picking up the TV remote she selected the BBC rolling news channel but couldn't keep her eyes open as the world's doom & gloom played.

Her phone rang just after five thirty with a reminder about dinner. Gail's first look in the mirror wasn't good, her hair was a mess and wouldn't respond to a brushing; that required a quick shower. It was therefore a somewhat different looking Gail to walked into the dining room half an hour later, her third change of the day.

Gail avoided the wine that was on offer, a Cabernet Shiraz, and sipped barley water instead as she ate. She had tons of questions for Helen but now wasn't the best time. Indeed, after the meal finished, Gail decided that any other business could wait until the morning.

 
Amersham
 
"So how are you doing, Gail?"

"Fine, Hannah, apart from a lousy weekend."

"Under the weather?"

"Yes, I'd had some dodgy wine and an icky tummy."

Gail and Dr Hannah Young were stood outside the conservatory just after breakfast on Monday morning. It was now four weeks since the escape from London when David Jones had taken the persona of Gail Jones. A month of disguises was now a complete identity and she was comfortable. They set off, across the lawn, towards the summerhouse.

"Would you ever consider going back?"

"Back to Hackney or back to my old self?"

"Either, or both?"

"No."

"What's your aim then?"

"I leave here later this week to my own place with a career as an accountant again."

"What if it goes wrong?"

"There's a fall-back plan but I'd rather not discuss it."

"For security reasons?"

"Quite."

Hannah thought about her next question before putting it to Gail.

"Have you had any doubts about transitioning?"

"None, not that it was even an option four weeks ago.."

"Wasn't this just to escape, to hide?"

"It might have been at the time but it changed within two days. Over the previous six months I must have wondered what it would be to live full-time as Gail but I dismissed it then as unworkable."

"So why decide now and not six months ago?"

"Confidence for one thing, wondering if I could keep my business running when clients found out and being scared stiff at the prospect of the Charing Cross Gender Clinic.”

"That was then, what do you say now about the same questions?"

"I'm more confident and don't see myself as anything other than a woman, I'm starting up a new business with backing and everything on the transitioning path can be private as I will have enough resources."

"What about surgery?"

"I don't have a time-scale, plus I'd like some development here first." Gail cupped her breasts briefly.

"That's a common response, but would you go ahead with surgery?"

"Yes, without a doubt."

"Do you have any questions for me?"

"Well, what arrangements can be made for me to see you after I've moved?"

"I have an NHS and a private clinic at Hillingdon hospital every few weeks so could see you there. If you are on a private health scheme that covers gender identity then the cost isn't an issue."

"I'll have to check that out. Unfortunately I don't know my new home address and I haven't established a personal email address yet, can I have your business card?"

"Certainly. Anything else?" Dr Young dug into her handbag.

"Yes, time for an ice cream?" They’d reached the summerhouse veranda.

"No I think I'll pass on that, but you need to watch your weight Gail."

"Okay Hannah, are we done?"

"Yes."

"I'll walk you back to the house."

Gail was grateful that her shrink had arrived early as Helen had reminded her that they still had a fair bit to talk about. Emily had also arrived just as breakfast finished, although she had soon snaffled a boiled egg and soldiers. The three of them met in the library once Gail was free. Helen sat, listening, as Emily took charge.

"I understand you're moving this week, Gail?"

"That's right, although I've not seen the place yet and there's still a few unanswered questions."

"I've had a request from Helen to provide you with an armed officer for a few weeks."

"Thanks Emily, I hope it's a female officer?"

"Of course, we may use someone from the Diplomatic Squad or one who's recently finished at Buckingham Palace."

"So I'll get all the Royal Family gossip?"

"I believe that would be high treason and it's still a capital offence!" Emily laughed. "Anyway, I'm here with news."

"Go ahead."

"The Germans raided several places including the Iranian Cultural Centre and detained two of the staff there. These were supposed to be clerics but in practice were collecting funds for various Al Qaeda groups."

"That's what I suspected."

"Yes, a few bank accounts were seized, there were several million Euros waiting to be transferred."

"What about the rest of the personnel there?"

"They've been allowed to remain as they weren't involved, but their activities will be monitored just to be sure."

"You said there were other premises?"

"Several warehouses were visited, the Police found a small arsenal of weapons and arrested more Iranians who had been granted asylum in Germany."

"They had a strange way of thanking Germany for taking them in?"

"Indeed. Now, amongst what else they discovered in the warehouses was plenty of documentation. Included in that were names and addresses of contacts in London who we weren't aware of. The ones we could locate have been brought in and we're talking to them. So, that information that you identified has resulted in anti-terrorist arrests in two countries so far, with several other European countries about to detain others on the same basis. An entire network is being brought down."

"Wow. So this is big?"

"Yes, I've been called to the Cabinet Office to attend a COBRA meeting this afternoon so I can give the PM and ministers a heads up. They'll want to know where the intel came from but, don't worry, we'll protect your identity."

"Thanks. Were any of the arrests here a threat to me?"

"We're working on that but we've seen nothing as yet. That's everything I can give you."

"Thanks Emily, you best get going now if you're going to make it to Downing Street in time!"

"Bye."

With Emily gone, Helen took over.

"Now Gail, how do you fancy a drive?"

"To the flat?"

"Yes, come on."

They nipped down to the garage just as Emily was leaving, A minute later they were following in Helen's car. Their route took them onto the M25 London Orbital at Junction 24 and heading anti-clockwise to Junction 18 to pick up the Amersham Road. Gail was getting more certain of the house's location being in South Hertfordshire, close to Potters Bar, regardless of Helen's denials and repeated use of unsigned country lanes until they were some distance away.

Despite Helen's attempted distractions it only took just over forty minutes to cover the journey, they pulled up outside a modern looking apartment block.

"I take it we're here?"

"Yes, here's a set of keys. You're in Flat 8 on the top floor."

"Was that for security?"

"No, it was the only empty one in the block but it does allow for some discrete surveillance. Come on, let's go in; the red key opens the lobby door."

Gail opened the door easily and walked into the lobby. There was an attendant sat at a desk inside.

"Hello, I don't believe I've seen you before? What's your name please Miss?"

"Abigail Adams."

"Ah, just moving in?"

"Yes, first time here. "

Helen now walked into view.

"Miss Bell? I didn't see you there."

"No worries Harry, you'll be seeing plenty of me and my client this week."

"Yes, you said your agency was setting everything up, I believe you've just moved back into the country Miss Adams?"

Gail picked up on the ruse, "That's right Harry. Anyway, I'm busting to use the loo."

"I won't keep you."

They used the lift and rose to the eighth floor, there being one flat per floor. When Gail let herself into the place she was amazed first at the space, then the view over the Chiltern Hills.

"It's wonderful, thank you Helen!" Gail threw her arms around Helen and kissed her.

"Less of that young lady, I'm on duty! The toilet is over there," she pointed, "and the kitchen is opposite. I have two pints of fresh milk in my bag and you're stocked for tea and coffee."

"Put the kettle on then, I'll be back in a mo."

The flat was indeed spacious, with two decent sized bedrooms, a third small bedroom that had been equipped as an office, plus the usual kitchen/diner and lounge area. The tour did not take very long.

"Have you chosen which bedroom you want, Gail?"

"Oh, the one furthest from the front door."

"I'll arrange for your clothes and bits to be brought over and put in there. Everything else that you might need is here, we'll do some shopping on Friday to fill the fridge. The phone and fibre broadband are on now, there's a military specification encryptor on order so you could work from here if necessary plus you'll have secure communications. There's a safe, plus video entryphone. Harry, the doorman is there Monday to Saturday from 8 to 5 to deal with deliveries and unwelcome guests. What do you think?"

"I think it's brilliant, and I'm so grateful that you've done this for me."

"Gail, you're only just beginning a wonderful relationship with the Security Service, your information has already saved countless lives, resulting in the confiscation of millions of pounds and euros. I think we can afford this!"

"If you put it that way!"

"Now, did you know that Amersham is the last station on the Metropolitan Line of the Underground network, it's also on the Chiltern mainline into Marylebone Station, so there's easy access into London and Oxford. If you look out of your bedroom window you can see the station, it's about a mile away. An easy walk until you get a scooter. Forget parking a car anywhere near the station, though."

"Right. Hadn't we better get back for lunch?"

"And to start packing, but first wash those mugs up."

 
Sophie
 

By Tuesday morning Gail had packed much of her clothing away, although a portable clothing rail had been found for most of those things that shouldn't be creased. These had been sent off to the flat in one of the vans whilst Gail got on with some of her investigations in the library.

Helen had disappeared on Monday afternoon, claiming other duties. This didn't disappoint Gail as much as she'd feared now that she was about to be a free agent again, sort of. The continued tie to the Security Service was more of a safety net than a leash but it was also where most of her work would come from.

"Gail, it's almost lunch time, you've been in there for hours."

"Thanks, Jenny. I just want to get as much of this done as possible."

"Well, it's break time."

"I'll be with you in ten minutes."

"Okay. Oh, there's a package for you in your room."

Gail shut down the laptop and packed it away in the supplied laptop bag. There'd been an email from Dave Brown thanking her for the recent work and giving some more details on the German operation, none of which she could repeat - naturally. He'd also requested the laptop back so it could be modified, quite what that meant she was unsure.

She walked upstairs to freshen up, finding the package on her bed. She identified it immediately as a mobile phone but wondered why she now had two? This question would have to wait for Helen's return as no-one else seemed to have answers.

Lunch brought a new face to the table.

"You must be Abigail Adams?"

"Yes, sorry you have me at a disadvantage?"

"Ah, apologies, I'm DS Sophie Grieve and I've been asked to be your close protection officer."

"Right, I wasn't expecting anyone before the end of the week?"

"I was available, I finished with the Diplomatic Protection Group two weeks ago and have been on leave, when I was called by DI Keane yesterday it was good timing as I didn't have to wait to be replaced."

"That's good timing then, I suppose you would like to see the flat?"

"Yes, but tomorrow is soon enough. First I'd like to get to know you, we can't appear to be strangers."

"Quite, but I'm unsure how much I can tell you."

"Apparently there's a John Smith coming here this afternoon to give us a security briefing."

"I've met him."

Lunch arrived so they concentrated on the food. Gail knew if she and Sophie didn't gel then someone else would have to be drafted in, not ideal as time was running out. Sophie would obviously have to know Gail's personal secret and so far had only been given the Abigail identity. She excused herself after lunch so she could have a wash, although Sophie then followed her up the stairs and into Gail's room.

"Oh."

"Sorry Abigail, but if we need to get to know each-other then it has to start somewhere."

"Can you at least not follow me into the bathroom?"

"Sure."

Gail returned a few minutes later, Sophie was sat on the bed. It didn't look as if she had been opening drawers to check Gail's sizes, or lingerie preferences for that matter.

"Abigail, Is there somewhere better we can talk?"

"The sun's out, so why don't we use the hidden garden?"

After pausing at the summer house to collect some vital supplies they walked into the walled garden and settled on a bench. Gail was uncomfortable, but knew this was a necessary step.

"Sophie, why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

"Okay, I'm 31 years old, single. I'm London born and bred, have a degree in psychology, I love good food, music and theatre, I also enjoy hiking. I've been a police officer for nine years and was promoted a year ago. I spent five years in the Diplomatic Protection Group."

"Right, how much of a briefing have you been given about me?"

"That you're an accountant working for the Security Service. I know that there is, or was, a contract out on you and several viable attempts have been made to kill you. There have also, apparently, been some security lapses. The plan is that I stay for a month to start with, with an option on a two month extension."

"Well, that's some of it. I'll be working from the flat alot but we'll have no visitors there who are not cleared, okay?"

"I guessed as much."

"Okay, I'm 32 years old, from Hackney originally, and I've worked as an accountant since I left college a decade ago. Abigail is not the name I was born with but it is my name now, Although I'm known as Gail here, my name in public at all times must be Abi or Abigail and never just Gail. One other thing, I'm transgendered so if that makes you uncomfortable then we best finish there."

"Not at all, it turns out my brother was transgendered but apparently couldn't handle it, he committed suicide when I was at university ; that's one reason I joined the police, to help deal with hate crime."

"I'm sorry you lost your brother, did you know her female name?"

"No, and I never met her either. All I know is what he wrote in a letter to me shortly before he, she, died."

"So sad."

"I'm over it now, but I still get the feeling I never really knew him, or her."

Gail reached out and took Sophie's hands in her own. There was an unspoken conversation going on, Gail knew that she could trust Sophie.

There was a cough from behind, Justin was stood there.

"Hi Sophie, long time no see?"

"Hello Justin, are you still up to your old tricks?"

"What, me?" He started to turn red.

"Yes, you. I'm sure you didn't come down here to try ask for another date with me?"

"No, there's a visitor at the house to see both of you. He's in the library."

"Thank you Justin," Gail was forceful in her delivery of those words, Justin turned and walked away. Once he was clear of the garden, she needed to know more.

"What's the problem Sophie?"

"He comes over smooth but he's really just working out how quick he can get to third base."

"I noticed."

"He had a go at you too?"

"Let me tell you about it as we walk back."

The security briefing with John Smith was mostly the blah-blah type but Gail's interest peaked when he said a technical guy would be coming around the following week to install some security equipment. He also warned Gail not to disclose her previous identities to anyone, including Sophie.

"I don't need to tell you not to disclose who you work for?"

"Not at all. I don't have my cover story fully arranged yet, though."

"I'm sure that's something Miss Bell will be handling?"

"Probably."

"Could you send Miss Grieve in now?"

"Certainly."

Gail was pleased to get out of there, even though she knew enough of the workings of the Security Service that such advice could save her neck, literally. In her time guarding royalty and diplomats, Sophie had obviously had many briefings but Gail doubted she had worked directly with the spooks before.

It was just the two girls in the dining room for the evening meal, Gail again passed on the wine.

"What are you doing after dinner, Abi?"

"Just heading to my room for an early night."

"Okay."

"Do you fancy a swim in the morning?"

"There's a pool? What time?"

"Yes, it's in the basement. Meet by my room at seven?"

"I'll be there."

 
----
 
Accountancy Can Be Deadly - concludes with the next chapter, Part 12.

This book, and the follow-up - Spying By Numbers - are also both available for Kindle.

The third book, Diminishing Returns is currently in production.

Accountancy Can Be Deadly Part 12 Final Chapter

First posted here in 2014, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017.

 
Windsor
 

Gail now knew Sophie was fit and a very good swimmer but, contrary to her efforts, Gail decided she still wasn't as fit as she should be. She suggested that perhaps a go on the running machine later would be an idea?

"I'll join you, if there's two machines?"

"I think there are, but they were moved to make room for the crash mats."

"Oh good, Gail. When can we go there?"

"Come on Sophie, we're sat in the jacuzzi in our swimsuits and haven't had breakfast, let alone a shower."

"Okay, but when?"

"Depends what I'm told at breakfast for today's diary, but I can't do any of my accounts work right now as my laptop's been taken."

"Stolen, from here?"

"No, taken to the IT guru for surgery I think."

Helen joined them for breakfast.

"A change of plans ladies, we're putting the move back to Saturday."

"Why?"

"The surveillance equipment won't be in and tested by Friday morning."

"What about the house? Won't it still be needed by then?"

"That plan slipped by a couple of days too, but that's as much as I can say."

"Can we still go down to the flat so I can show Sophie around?"

"Yes, but don't take anything more of your own stuff with you until we know it's fully secure. Some of the communications equipment was removed yesterday as an alarm was found to be faulty, your clothing and possessions have been delivered to a storage facility for now."

"Why?"

"If someone or something got in there then it would become contaminated."

"What?"

"Look, right now we have to treat it in exactly the same way as when we received the keys two weeks ago. It was potentially contaminated so was deep cleaned, swept for bugs, checked thoroughly for electrical, gas and telephone faults, swept again and finally swept yet again after the furniture had been delivered. It's an ongoing process."

"I understand, I think. I take it that you're informing everyone that the date has changed?"

"Very few people need to know the change of plan, if necessary we load a van on Saturday morning with most of the rest of your gear and meet the other van plus the technical team there."

"Right."

"Why don't you two spend an hour on the range then we'll go for a drive?"

"Sophie, I'll just go to fetch my bag."

"Bag, Gail?"

"For my pass, otherwise we're not getting in there."

There was no doubt Sophie was good with a handgun but Gail was now getting plenty of practice; she was able to hit the target 80% of the time. The range officer commented that Gail would in good time reach the required standard for police certification with sufficient practice.

"But this is just a past-time whilst I'm here, I have no need for a weapon as I'm just an accountant."

"Madam, I wouldn't let just an accountant in here, we have been instructed that you are to have full access at any time it is practical."

"Who said that?"

"Someone very senior, well above my pay grade."

"Come on Gail, lets meet with Helen, we're done here."

"Fine by me. I need to go to my room first."

They walked out of the security control suite into the warm summer air, Gail pointed at the doorway opposite.

"That's the fitness suite, take a look inside whilst I freshen up."

 

The drive into Amersham a little while later seemed to take less time on this Wednesday morning, probably as traffic on the M25 was lighter than on Monday. It certainly didn't feel like a forty minute journey, but Gail sat in the back listening to the other two girls dig the dirt about mutual acquaintances and police stations of the realm.

"We're here, Gail, you open up."

She opened the exterior door and stepped into the air-conditioned lobby.

"Good morning Harry."

"Good morning Miss Adams, I see you brought a friend?"

"Yes, this is Miss Grieve and she'll be staying with me for a few weeks."

"Ah, I was informed you would have a house-guest but that it was a Miss Greig."

"Sounds like a simple typo."

"Typo?"

"Typographical error."

"Yes, I suppose it does."

Helen finally walked in behind the other two and asked why they were stood there.

"We've just been fixing a spelling mistake."

Having resolved that issue the three girls headed up to the eighth floor and into the flat. There were several men and women working in there who immediately stopped. One challenged the small group.

"Stop, who are you?"

Gail took the initiative.

"I'm Abigail Adams and this is my flat. With me are DS Grieve and Miss Bell, both of whom are warranted and armed. So, it's your turn now."

"I'm sorry Miss Adams, I didn't recognise you. We've already had a couple of odd visitors here today, although none had a key. I'm Jimmy Ruddle and this is my band of counter espionage engineers. Are you going to be here long?"

Helen took over, shooing Gail and Sophie off to do a tour of inspection.

"Guys, about these visitors - any names or photos?"

"No, sorry. The door camera isn't working yet and we're not in a position to ask for ID from someone knocking on the wrong door."

"What time was this?"

"Just after nine."

"There's someone in the lobby from eight onwards to prevent random walk-ins, what time did you get here?"

"Not long after seven. There is a rear delivery door by the way, we use that one."

"I'll have to speak to Harry downstairs on the way out. In the meantime, don't open the door to anyone, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Helen caught the girls in Sophie's allocated room, the first place they'd checked. There was an animated discussion about decoration, apparently Sophie was a bit of a goth.

"Keep it down, you two, what seems to be the problem?"

"Helen, the room's too light. I need opaque curtains, dark carpet, purple or black bedding."

"Sophie, you might only be here four weeks, that's the extent of your initial assignment. We're not redecorating the room. If Abigail is agreeable however, you can choose some alternative curtains and bedding, although they'll have to come out of your generous expenses package."

"I suppose I could live with that."

"Expenses package?" Gail was interested, Helen picked it up.

"Gail, hmm Abi, if Sophie is here twenty fours hours a day for four weeks then the usual forty two hour week doesn't apply, instead of overtime she gets a daily allowance that is designed to cover any ad-hoc expenses. Don't forget she also has her own home to maintain."

"How much is this allowance worth?"

"One hundred pounds a day on top of basic salary. All taxable of course."

"A day? Blimey, I might be able to help with the tax, though."

The subject was dropped as one of the sweep team wanted to check the bedroom. The girls quickly concluded their tour and headed back to the lobby. Harry was absent, a sign simply said:

 

 

Helen's question would have to wait for another day.

They would be too late for lunch back at the house so drove to Windsor to use a random café. Sophie did not relax once while they were in a public place and, of course, the car-parking was some distance from an acceptable eating establishment. They finally, after fifteen minutes of searching, settled on a courtyard café off a pedestrian lane with two exits. The seating was rearranged to provide line-of-sight to both exits.

The service wasn't fast but the quality of the food was superb, Sophie had been pensive throughout the lunch, easing up while they were waiting for the bill but, now that had been paid, was again anxious.

"Sophie, You're taking this too seriously."

"No, she is not, Abi. Given your recent history we are right to be concerned. Some incidents have been shown to be benign whereas others have been malignant. The ones we need to worry about are those that haven't been clarified yet, that includes our recent trip to Kew. And, no, we are not discussing it any further here. Come on!"

They walked directly back to the car-park where Sophie performed a check of the vehicle but clearly wasn't happy. Helen picked up on it immediately, pulling her phone out as she told the others to move well away from the car. Once they were a good distance from the car, she made a call.

"DI Keane, Helen Bell. We're in the River Street car-park in Windsor. We have a Code Blue, repeat Code Blue."

"Received."

"Sophie, did you check the vehicle in Amersham?"

"No."

"So anything malicious could have been done before we got here?"

"It's conceivable."

They could now hear sirens in the distance, Helen moved the other two well outside the car-park, about 200m away. Then they waited, while normal members of the public went about their business until the police cleared them away.

 
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
 
A cordon was quickly established whilst the nearest bomb disposal squad, based a few miles away at RAF Northolt, was on the way. This created quite a crowd but the police pushed everyone back several streets, although they struggled with a group of three ladies.

"That is my vehicle, if I presume you've checked the number plate then you'll know it's a Met car."

"You still have to move."

"Look, I can pull rank on you. Concentrate on the public and point the Bronze Commander in my direction when he or she gets here."

The young PC moved away, he'd deal with the public first and catch up with his Sergeant in a short while to take advice. He ended up arguing with a line of taxi drivers so missed the bronze commander's arrival. Helen didn't.

She introduced herself to the senior Police Officer who had arrived in the Windsor carpark, assuming control of the contained situation, although in fact it had already been declared safe.

"So it was you who called it in?"

"Yes, the evidence pointed to the vehicle having been tampered with."

"We'll hopefully confirm that when the car reaches the fleet HQ. Who's the suspected target?"

"I can't discuss that now as it's an counter terrorism case, but it is imperative we now get back to base."

"Go by tube?"

"Our base is outside the tube network, unfortunately. Now, given the circumstances I'd suggest a different mode of transport, although it's outside my normal authority."

Their helicopter had landed at South Mimms Motorway Services by the northern edge of the M25 where a van from the house was waiting to collect the small group. The backup Met Police chopper team hadn't expected to be used as a glorified taxi service instead of their usual surveillance and tracking role, even less so as they hadn't been told the final destination in this cloak & dagger arrangement.

Finally back indoors, Helen went straight to the library to use the secure phone whilst Gail and Sophie sat in the conservatory. Gail was finally able to ask questions freely.

"Sophie, what was wrong with the car?"

"Something didn't feel right. There were some scuff marks around the door frames on the near-side but no jemmy marks or other damage. There were also some disturbances under the car but it was difficult to see what it might be until it's on a ramp being examined properly."

"So was there a bomb?"

"No, almost definitely not. My suspicion is that either someone had tried to break in, or it was an attempt to plant a tracking device."

"Oh. When will the answer be known?"

"Later today I suspect. No doubt Helen's on the case."

***

When the call came, the three had just sat down for dinner, Helen took the call on her an extension in the dining room.

"Yes, okay, yes, thank you."

"News?"

"Yes, Gail. No sign of explosives or a tracker but plenty of suggestion someone had tried to get into it either in Amersham or at the car-park. Why they wanted to get into it is another matter. The carpark's CCTV is being checked but I was told one of the cameras is out of action so it's of limited value. Some prints have been found on the car and will be checked, they'll also be checked against our own prints to eliminate ourselves."

"Right, so we weren't in danger?"

"Not necessarily, but we weren't careful either. That's the same problem that we had in Kew Gardens."

"I remember it well."

"So do I. Gail, I want a report on today's events written by the morning, you too Sophie. I'm staying tonight as my replacement car won't be here until the morning."

"Report?"

"Yes, you two may have heard or seen things that I didn't. Sit down and write a report from the moment we left here, include everything relevant. Even if there's nothing new in your report it will still be useful to get you into the practice of writing them. That comes with the territory I'm afraid."

"Do you have the receipt from the café? I could put in a VAT refund claim at the same time?"

"Get lost, Gail. I'm going up to my room, good night."

***

By the time Gail and Sophie reached breakfast, Helen had already departed. Gail had spent two hours the previous evening compiling her report in draft and then in manuscript as she didn't have a laptop at this time, she was pleasantly surprised how much detail she could remember. Sophie, in comparison, did have a laptop with her and only needed to connect to the printer in the library to obtain a hard copy. With Helen absent, they asked Jenny what to do with the paperwork.

"If Helen's asked for them, I'll fax the reports to her office, she'll probably swing by there at some point today."

That put Gail at a loose end, she and Sophie still needed to get to know each-other before they moved into the flat but neither felt like talking much this morning. Gail was also still regretting her breakfast choice of kippers, it was repeating every few minutes; any suggestion of exercise was beaten back.

It didn't help that this was the wettest day of the summer. Gail had seemingly lost track of time but that day's newspaper announced it would be the August Bank Holiday on Monday meaning. She worked out that children would be back in schools in less than two weeks, not that Gail had any children of her own, nor nieces or nephews. Indeed, she wasn't even certain if she had any living relatives. That suited the Security Service, unsurprisingly.

Out of desperation for something to do, Gail went down to the range, Justin was in the control room.

"Hello Miss Adams."

"Formal again, I see."

"I've been," cough, "advised to keep it formal, Miss."

"In that case I won't ask about your history with DS Grieve."

"I couldn't possible comment. What brings you down here?"

"I'd like to use the range."

"It's occupied at the moment so I'm afraid you can't go in there."

"Who's using it?"

"Two of the house staff are having their weekly practice."

"House staff? I never would have thought they would do that."

"Had you considered why an accountant would use Police issue weapons? These are illegal in the hands of the public in this country."

"I've been advised to practice when I can, but today it's to occupy my time."

The light over the range door changed from red to green and shortly afterwards it swung open allowing the maid and housekeeper to exit.

"Hello Miss, are you waiting to go in?"

"Yes Lisa, I didn't know you did this?"

"Have to keep my hand in, Miss, just in case."

Gail was about to ask what the 'just in case' meant when she was called in by the range officer.

Forty-five minutes and several targets later, Gail was very happy. She was now missing the target 10% of the time and those on target were starting to gather around the inner rings. The usual range officer was waiting for her when she exited.

"If you can deal with the strays then your score will be more than acceptable. You can expect your licence soon."

"Thank you, but I still don't know why I'm being given this privilege."

"As I said yesterday, that answer is not known to anyone in my pay grade."

The rain had eased off whilst Gail was underground but it was now nearly lunchtime. Sophie was absent, Gail understood that she had gone over to Amersham to check the area out for safe walking routes, likely ambush points and any potential enemy surveillance locations.

"She's welcome to that task," thought Gail.

She avoided the fish that was on offer at lunchtime and had a simple vegetable soup. The aim was to be able to use some of the gym equipment a reasonable time after eating.

It was just after two when Gail walked into the fitness suite. She'd changed into her leotard but wore sweats over that. She also remembered a towel.

Taking off her top, she started on a running machine. Gail pounded away for half an hour, steadily increasing the speed. Once into a rhythm she didn't feel any strain, although the moment she stopped her calf muscles complained; she was bent over rubbing them when Sophie walked in.

"I wondered if you were in here?"

"I've just run several miles so I'm not jumping back on that machine."

"I wondered if you fancied a rowing race?"

"Rowing race? Okay, I've never done that before on dry land but let's give it a go before I change my mind."

Gail had assumed the rowing machine was all about arms and shoulders so regretted her unconditional agreement within the first few minutes. There were muscles and tendons being used that she didn't even know she possessed. This was true torture. Sophie meanwhile was pulling far ahead on her linked machine. Gail wobbled back onto her feet, panting badly, then she grabbed her towel to mop her brow.

"You win. I'm going for a shower."

"Same again tomorrow?"

Gail felt no better off for all her exertions, indeed even after a long soak in the bath to help relax, she was still feeling the cramps that had started in her legs. She phoned housekeeping for a glass of iced water, and sipped this as she read. When dinner time arrived it was just her and Sophie with no sign of Helen returning.

Sleep came easily that night.

 
Abigail Must Die!
 

Gail's phone rang at seven in the morning as she was putting on her swimsuit.

"Hello?"

"It's Jenny. There's an urgent conference call in the library in fifteen minutes."

"I was on my way to the pool."

"Sorry Gail, this really is urgent and may take some time."

"Okay, I'll get dressed and get down there, could I have some coffee?"

"I'll have that waiting."

"Thanks."

What could be that urgent? Jenny hadn't mentioned Sophie once so was she in this meeting or not? There was a knock on Gail's door as she was pulling on a pair of slacks.

"Come in."

Sophie opened the door and looked impatient in her swimsuit with a towel over one shoulder.

"Gail, I was waiting for you."

"Sorry Sophie, I've been called to an urgent conference call. I take it you weren't called?"

"No, what's it about?"

"I don't know, all I know is it's urgent. Sorry, but I must get moving as it's almost time."

Gail rushed downstairs, the library door was open and Jenny was waiting in there with the handset of the secure phone in her hand. A pot of coffee was on the desk next to some paperwork.

"Yes Emily we're secure. Gail's here now, I'll just connect Helen then you're setup."

Jenny pressed a few buttons then handed the handset to Gail before leaving the room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

"Gail, are you on your own?"

"Yes, Emily"

"I suggest you lock the door before we continue. Helen can you confirm your location is secure?"

Gail did as asked, missing Helen's response, then returned to her seat. On the desk in front of her were the originals of hers and Sophie's reports.

"This briefing is classified Secret. Please confirm you both understand?"

They did.

"Now Gail, we have some disturbing information. You'll recall that Anna was withdrawn last week"

"Yes, but I didn't understand why?"

"You weren't informed at the time as it did not appear to be relevant, however that has now changed."

"Is this related to yesterday?"

"Yes, let me explain. The initial investigation into the incident at Kew showed that Anna was not carrying out her duties in accordance with instructions meaning that her position became untenable. A further investigation has now brought us to the conclusion that the incident at Kew was staged."

"I don't understand, she chased after the robber."

"Indeed, but the robber was her nephew, David Grieg."

"Oh, shit, Grieg?"

"Quite. This now confirms that the address of your flat, plus your new identity have been compromised."

"How?"

"We're working on it. Helen, can you take over?"

"Thanks Emily, David Grieg's fingerprints were found on the car plus the sweep team at your flat have identified David and Anna Grieg from photos as the visitors on Wednesday morning."

"So it was no typo?"

"No and we suspect she was going to obtain a key for the flat posing as your flatmate. Unfortunately we've not yet been able to speak to Harry, he was found yesterday morning in undergrowth behind the building."

"Oh, is he going to be okay?"

"He's only just regained conciousness, unfortunately the CCTV in the lobby was disabled."

"How did they get in the building?"

"Through the rear delivery door and up the staircase. The lock showed it had been tampered with."

"So what now?"

"We're working on it. Reconvene at 1100hrs?"

Emily and Gail confirmed, Gail put the handset back on the cradle. She finally poured a cup of coffee from the waiting cafetière and sat wondering what the hell was going on? Who could she trust? Emily and Helen had been with her from the first day at the original safe-house and had never lied to her, even if they hadn't always said everything Gail wanted or needed to know.

Diane had been kidnapped by terrorists then compromised by Essex Special Branch, finally today she'd heard about Anna's treachery. How could these people do this to her? Who next? She started to sob.

Jenny was outside the library door and, although she wasn't deliberately listening, could just hear Gail through the sound-proofing. She used a key to unlock the door.

"Gail, come on dry your eyes. Everyone's working out what to do."

"I've been betrayed!"

"We all have. Now, if we have to relocate you later then you need a good breakfast as lunch may not happen if we need to get moving. I'll make you a fresh pot of coffee."

"How much do you know?"

"Enough, enough to know that we're now in lock-down."

"Lock-down?"

"No-one gets in or out of this house until further notice."

"But you said I would be relocated?"

"You will, as soon as the lock-down is cancelled. Get some breakfast then go to the range."

"Why?"

"Food first, then speak to the range officer."

What was strange was the presence of Justin in the hallway, in combat uniform and armed with an automatic weapon.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a threat, this is my position."

Gail knew what the threat was, but could the house be at risk?

Breakfast was a strange affair. Gail wasn't certain if Sophie had been in the pool but she hadn't long sat down before Gail entered the room. The strangeness was amplified as Sophie was in a bullet-proof vest and had a sidearm on the table.

Gail went up to her room and grabbed her bag, but decided to take the pass out and hang it around her neck using the lanyard to make sure that all the security personnel knew who she was. She then went down to the range as requested.

"Ah Miss Adams, I've been expecting you."

"That’s a line from a film, isn’t it? I'll think of the film title in a moment. Why am I needed?"

"Please just go straight into the range."

Gail entered the range. The red light was showing but the door wasn't closed. Inside, the range officer had a store open that clearly contained substantial fire power, this she knew to be the armoury from her previous visits.

"This is your firearms licence, sign at the bottom and on this receipt."

"Why?"

"Otherwise what we do next is illegal."

"Okay, what?"

Gail put the licence in her bag as the officer removed a tray from the armoury and put it on a table, there was another receipt.

Sign here."

"What for?"

"You're signing for a Glock-26 handbag gun, the same as you've been using."

"Why?"

"Too many questions. You would have qualified in a few days anyway but circumstances dictate that I issue this now. Sign here!"

Gail reluctantly signed and picked up the weapon, checking that the safety was on, as well as several clips. One clip was inserted then everything was transferred to her bag. What the hell was going on? Jenny was waiting in the control room.

"Gail, Anna knew the location of this house as well as the main entry points. We don't know what her motive is but she can be extremely dangerous. You have been issued that weapon to protect yourself in case our defences fail. Once the threat is over I'll take the weapon back from you and return it to the armoury. Whether or not you choose to use it in the meantime is down to you complete with the consequences."

"I'm not at all comfortable with this, I'm an accountant not a law enforcement officer."

"But you impressed the range officer with how quickly you became competent with that weapon, which to be honest doesn't suit most of the team here."

Gail wasn't convinced but knew there was trouble brewing. She was outside the conservatory when her mobile rang.

"Hello Helen?"

"Hi Gail, can you get to the library?"

"Sure, but why is my phone working?"

"Later, get to the library."

Gail rushed into the library and shut the door behind her, the secure phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hi Gail, can you please push the blue secure button in 3-2-1 ... still there?"

"Yes Helen. What's going on?"

"We decided to do a dummy delivery to the flat using one of the vans, but with armed officers in the back. The vehicle was rammed and an attempt made to get the driver out but the officers overwhelmed them. Anna has an arm injury but will live to see her trial, David Grieg discharged a pistol towards the driver and was shot, he died instantly. One other was detained unhurt but we don't have a name or any other details yet."

"So is it over?"

"No, we don't know what else Anna had planned, nor why, or even if someone else is running the show?"

"That's too many unknowns."

"Quite, the problem now is that we have substantial evidence that your location and identity have been compromised, Abigail Adams has to effectively die today. We then start again."

"Again? Where do I go? Another new identity?"

"The answer to the first question is being sorted at the moment, listen to Jenny and do as she asks. Have you been issued with a weapon?"

"Yes, a Glock-26, the same as I was using in the range. As I said to Jenny and the range officer I'm not happy about that."

"But you are competent and right now everyone in that house has to be capable of helping with security, that includes you and the chambermaid."

"I know, I understand the issues it's just that I'm uncomfortable."

"Look, I'll be in my office all day unless something happens. If we need to talk, use the secure phone. Don't forget the conference with Emily at 1100."

"Okay, bye for now."

She hung up and walked back to the conservatory. Suddenly there was a huge explosion from the far end of the garden and the ground shook, followed by alarms everywhere. Then another explosion, much closer. The security shutters came down quickly between the two explosions causing the house lights to come on, then suddenly go off. The house was now in a state of confused darkness. Another explosion near the front of the house knocked Gail off her feet, falling initially against a wall then her head made contact with the tiled floor.

She was later told that Justin had found Gail slumped just inside the conservatory and, with Sophie's help, carried her to the emergency room in the basement. She came around within a few minutes but was deemed to have suffered concussion so would require a trip to hospital, not the best outcome possible especially given the security risks. Another plan was needed.

Once the all-clear was given a full evacuation was ordered. A military helicopter landed on the front lawn and the house front door was opened, something Gail had never previously seen. She was instructed not to take anything other than her bag, her belongings would follow. Sophie assisted Gail board the chopper, although Gail was not yet aware of the revised plan, were they flying to a local hospital?

The flight took them to army barracks in Hereford, where Gail dropping into the medical office to be checked out. It was whilst she was there that Gail's phone rang, she opened her bag to retrieve it then remembered the Glock handgun that was also in her bag. She wasn't the only person to spot the firearm.

"Hello Helen."

"Where are you?"

"Safe at the moment."

"Can you enable Secure on your phone?”

"Got it."

"Right, we're secure, where are you?"

"SAS barracks, Hereford."

"That's pretty safe. What's the plan?"

"Sophie and I have just discussed Cornwall seeing as we're not that far from the South West. She'll organise a car when one of these fine officers drops us into Hereford town centre."

"Okay, keep me informed."

"Bye."

Gail slid the phone back into her bag, unaware that several armed personnel were now looking at her strangely. The senior officer spoke.

"Madam, is that a handgun?"

"Er, yes, a Glock 26. I have some spare magazines too. I understand it takes NATO standard ammunition if you can spare me a box?"

"We'll see about that, but why would an accountant be carrying a concealed weapon?" Gail still had her ID card around her neck.

"My job title is irrelevant, my firearms certificate is also in there, feel free to have a look. By the way, where's my bodyguard?"

"Outside. I'd like you to find the certificate, slowly now please."

Gail had the certificate in a side pocket so pulled that out easily. She unfolded it and handed it to the officer.

"This is a Met Police Firearms Unit licence."

"If you say so, it was only issued this morning and I hadn't had a chance to read it, what with being attacked by terrorists and all that."

"Who do you actually work for?"

"The Security Service, on a joint Met Police Security Service counter terrorism initiative." She made up the name on the spot, it seemed to impress the officer.

"What about your bodyguard?"

"She's just finished with the Diplomatic and Royal Protection Team and is my close protection officer, she's armed with a Glock 17, personally I find the '26 easier to handle."

"I'm not happy with you two having weapons on this base."

"I was even less happy being issued with it this morning. As soon as your doctor has cleared me then we'll be gone. I have to go into hiding whilst a new identity is dreamed up for me, again. I promise we won't trouble you again, probably."

END

 
----
 

This book Accountancy Can Be Deadly, and the follow-up - Spying By Numbers - are also both available for Kindle.

The third book, Diminishing Returns is currently in production.

Character Index (Book 1)   Accountancy can be deadly

 

 
 

 
 

Lead character	GailJones/David Jones/Abigail Adams
- - - -
Police	DS/DI Emily Keane	SO15 Counter terrorism unit
	DC Adam Smith	SO15 Counter terrorism unit
	DI Reynolds	SO15 Counter terrorism unit
	Helen Bell	Family Liason officer/Solicitor/MI5
	John	Police driving instructor
	Justin	Site security & self-defence trainer
	DS Sophie Grieve	Close Protection Officer
- - - -
Security Service	Dave Brown	Fraud & Terrorism expert
	John Smith	Personnel Security manager
- - - -
Household	Jenny	Housekeeper
	Lisa	Maid
	Diane	Beautician/Stylist
	Harry	Apartment security
- - - -
Medical	Doctor Hughes	Police doctor
	Dr Fox	Psychiatrist
	Cloe Gardner	Optician
	Fatima Hussaini-Davis	Nurse
	Vikki/Jules	Nurses
	Anna	Gail's personal nurse/
	Dr Hannah Young	Gender Counsellor
- - - -
Criminals	Hamiz Fourani	Property owner
	Hamed Fourani	Brother of Hamiz
	Janet Husseini Davison	Mother of nurse Fatima Hussaini-Davis
	Iqbal Hussein	Husband of Janet Hussaini

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 1 Rest & Recuperation?

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

"Come on Sophie, I need the shower too!"

There was a muffled response that Gail didn't quite get, she started repeating her demand when the bathroom door opened.

"It's all yours, mi lady."

"'bout time too, at this rate we won''t get any dinner."

"Look, I had to wash sand out of everywhere, and I'm not joking, plus my hair needed deep conditioning after a day on the beach."

Gail now took her turn in the shower, relishing the gentle water.

Finally the two girls were sat in the bar with a glass of wine, just waiting for their meals to be cooked. The sun was just dipping into the Atlantic Ocean and there was a strange calmness in the air.

"I could live down here, Sophie."

"I know what you mean, I've spent several weeks in Cornwall over the past few years when Prince Charles was visiting in his capacity as the Duke of Cornwall, the weather was almost always fantastic and I wasn't really needed much."

"Well, this is a paid holiday too, how much longer do we have?"

"It's Thursday and we're due to leave on Sunday morning."

"Only two more beach days? How can I cope?"

"You're coping fine Gail, this is R&R if you recall."

"I know, what time's my hair appointment tomorrow?"

"At half nine, but it's in Helston so we need to get going at half eight. If you're good we can be on Praa Sands after lunch."

"If I'm good???? Ruddy cheek."

"Ladies, your table is ready."

"Thank you."

Gail and Sophie picked up their bags, the waiter collected their glasses and the now-empty bottle of Merlot.

"Would you like another bottle?"

"Yes please."

Gail Jones and Detective Sergeant Sophie Grieve were hiding out on the southern Cornish coast, only a few miles from Land's End. The intention was to move Gail somewhere out of the way where the chance of a leak was reduced as much as possible. In the end, Sophie knew about the Praa Sands Holiday & Surf Centre from her previous Cornish visits so phoned the place and booked the two of them in. In a few days they would head back, but to where?

The previous Friday all hell had broken out at the Security Service safe house in Hertfordshire. Investigations were ongoing but an attempt had been made to force entry into the building, with the intended aim to murder Gail. The attackers, a mixture of Germans and Iranians, had been repelled by the local staff but the support of the SAS had been needed. The closest the attackers had managed was the entrance to the underground carpark and just inside the front gates.

Justin, one of the staff, had found Gail slumped just inside the conservatory and, with Sophie's help, carried her to the emergency room in the basement. She came around within a few minutes but was deemed to have suffered concussion so would require a trip to hospital, not the best outcome possible especially given the security risks.

Another plan was needed.

Once the all-clear was given a full evacuation was ordered. A military helicopter landed on the front lawn and the house front door was opened, something Gail had never previously seen. She was instructed not to take anything other than her bag, her belongings would follow. Sophie assisted Gail board the chopper, they were greeted by the SAS team who'd just helped out. Gail was not yet aware of the revised plan, were they flying to a local hospital?

The flight took them all back to the SAS barracks in Hereford, with Gail dropping into the medical office to be checked out. It was whilst she was there that Gail's phone rang, she opened her bag to retrieve it then remembered the Glock handgun that was also in her bag. She wasn't the only person to spot the firearm.

"Hello Helen."

"Where are you?"

"Safe at the moment."

"Can you enable Secure on your phone, press the menu key first."

"Got it."

"Right, we're secure, where are you?"

"SAS Barracks, Hereford."

"That's pretty safe. What's the plan?"

"Sophie and I have just discussed Cornwall seeing as we're not that far from the South West. She'll organise a car when one of these fine officers drops us into Hereford town centre."

"Okay, keep me informed, do not use any Abigail documents, understood?"

"Yes, Bye."

Gail slid the phone back into her bag, unaware that several armed personnel were now looking at her strangely. The senior officer spoke.

"Madam, is that a handgun?"

"Er, yes, a Glock 26. I have some spare magazines too. I understand it takes NATO standard 9mm ammunition if you can spare me a box?"

"We'll see about that, but why would an accountant be carrying a concealed weapon?" Gail still had her ID card around her neck.

"My job title is irrelevant, my firearms certificate is also in there, feel free to have a look. By the way, where's my bodyguard?"

"Outside. I'd like you to find the certificate, slowly now please."

Gail had the certificate in a side pocket so pulled that out easily. She unfolded it and handed it to the officer.

"This is a Met Police Firearms Unit licence."

"If you say so, it was only issued this morning and I hadn't had a chance to read it, what with being attacked by terrorists and all that."

"Who do you actually work for?"

"The Security Service, on a joint Met Police Security Service counter terrorism initiative." She made up the name on the spot, it seemed to impress the officer.

"What about your bodyguard?"

"She's just finished with the Diplomatic and Royal Protection Team and is my close protection officer, she's armed with a Glock 17, personally I find the '26 easier to handle."

"I'm not happy with you two having weapons on this base."

"I was even less happy being issued with it this morning and then be attacked. As soon as your doctor has cleared me then we'll be gone. I have to go into hiding whilst a new identity is dreamed up for me, again."

Gail had just become Abigail Adams, receiving a full pack of identity documents only a few days earlier. That identity had been leaked by a mole within the Security Service, along with her location.

***

Dinner in the beachside restaurant was acceptable, no, more than acceptable. With the fishing port of Newlyn only a few miles away the primary diet locally came from the sea. Tonight's star guest was langoustines, as part of a fruits de mer assortment. Sophie wanted a walk along the foreshore but Gail was full and tired so they just headed back to their chalet.

On Friday morning they drove the short distance into Helston, a medieval market town. Gail had been here on Monday with Sophie to visit the pharmacy, Gail didn't have her HRT pills or iron tablets, a phone call to Dr Hughes and a sympathetic pharmacist sorted that one out. Fortunately both prescriptions had been issued to Gail Jones and not Abigail Adams. Whilst in Helston on Monday she'd also made an urgent appointment.

This time Gail was booked to see a hair stylist as she needed a new look before they could head back into England on Sunday. The solution was to lighten it so Gail became a brunette. The stylist then added extensions, giving her near shoulder length hair. The process was not quick and took several hours to achieve so, by the time she left the salon, lunch beckoned. However, before that could be dealt with, one issue that needed to be resolved urgently was her glasses. Regardless of the colour or style of her hair, Gail's glasses had remained unchanged. They walked into an opticians and explained she needed several pairs of glasses with the same prescription as now.

"Do you have the prescription with you?"

"No, sorry."

"Never mind, would you like to choose some frames?"

Gail and Sophie spent some time browsing the racks before choosing two frames that were unlike her current glasses.

"Okay, you can collect them next Tuesday."

"Not sooner?"

"Sorry, that's the timescale we work to."

Gail decided a quick conversation with Sophie was needed.

"Are we needed in London? I don't remember Helen saying anything?"

"No, officially you're on leave for medical reasons so a few more days here won't matter."

Gail paid for the frames with her Gail Jones debit card, Helen had warned that the Abigail Adams accounts would be closed and any trace of Miss A Adams removed from databases. Under those circumstances Gail had limited spending options.

They settled in the Blue Anchor for a light lunch, not realising from the frontage that the pub was around six hundred years old and had an equally ancient, and working, brewery in the yard. On this occasion Gail and Sophie drank fruit juice but promised the barman to try the beer another time.

It was now looking likely that their beach trip wasn't going to happen so the two girls drove to Falmouth and descended on the Trago Mills store. They'd both left London without a change of clothes or even a toothbrush so had stopped at Exeter on the way down to do some shopping, followed by the Trago Mills store at Newton Abbot, half way between Exeter and Plymouth. They'd bought enough clothes for a few days but now needed more, especially if they were staying longer than planned.

Although Gail had put £10,000 in the Gail Jones account some time ago, she wasn't sure how long it would take before the money paid to Abigail Adams was moved to a different identity. To put it mildly, how long would £10k last? Given the day's major expenses now included a cart full of clothes and she had gained a receipt worth £350 for glasses, the money wouldn't last forever.

Back at the holiday village Gail stowed her clothes whilst Sophie went to talk to the manager. She was back within a few minutes.

"There's a small problem Gail but it's nothing to be concerned about."

"Then why is it a problem?"

"This cabin has already been allocated on Sunday but he'll let us have one of the deluxe cabins for no extra charge, plus the staff will move our clothes on Sunday morning for us."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Not really. How about a shower then we grab dinner?"

"You go first, Sophie, I want to speak to Helen."

"Okay."

Gail waited until she could hear water running then called Helen.

"Hi Helen, can we go secure?"

"Sure, in 3?"

"I'm still here, are we secure?"

"Yes, what's your status?"

"New hairstyle and I've ordered new glasses but can't collect them until Tuesday."

"Tuesday?"

"That's the speed that they work at down here. We've extended our stay for a few more days because of that."

"Fair enough. I've finished closing the Abigail Adams accounts and cancelled everything else. I need your input for a new name."

"I knew you'd ask, I guess we have to ditch any variation on Gail now?"

"I would advise that."

"I've had a think, let me know what you prefer?"

"You are the one to use it so you must be comfortable, just remember it must not have a connection to what's gone before."

"Okay, how about the following: Heather Doughty, Yvonne Fullerton, Fiona Young?"

"Interesting choice, I don't think Fiona suits you, how about a combination? Yvonne Doughty or Heather Young?"

"'Heather Young' sounds like the best, I'll go with that."

"Great, I'll start work on your new identity in the morning. I know you said about returning here after Tuesday but how about staying a bit longer? I might be able to arrange fresh accommodation by the end of next week and have your clothes shipped there?"

"Sounds like a plan, I'll run it past Sophie when she's out of the shower."

"Okay, oh I need to organise a new temporary firearms cert for you, go to Helston police station in the morning."

"Can't I just return the Glock?"

"Not possible until you get back, I've got to go as it'll probably be a long and strange conversation with Devon & Cornwall Constabulary. Bye Heather."

"Bye Helen."

Sophie had just walked back into the lounge area as Gail finished the call.

"How did it go?"

"Helen's suggested we don't head back before the end of next week as she may have accommodation for us."

"Fair enough but we have to vacate here by Wednesday, how about a staggered return? Plymouth on Wednesday night then we go along the south coast?"

"Sounds like a plan. We've chosen my new name but we can't use it until we're away from here, presumably."

"It would be awkward to use a new name before we get to London as you won't have any documents before then."

"Of course. Oh, Helen's asked me to collect a new firearms cert tomorrow in Helston. Another day nowhere near the beach?"

"Come on Gail, we've just gained a few extra days and maybe tomorrow afternoon is still on? Get in that shower so we can have dinner at a reasonable time."

"Yes mum!"

With her longer hair Gail was now taking much more time in the shower than before, even blow-drying her hair took longer. She complained.

"Hey Miss Jones, you bought into it!"

Her answer is not suitable for this epistle.

***

The next few days seemed to fly past, apart from the time spent on the beach topping up her tan Gail had made several trips into Helston with Sophie. The duty officer at Helston Police Station was unsure what had been arranged on the Saturday morning.

"So what is it you need?"

"I need my firearms certificate issued in a different name."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you. Here, read the existing one."

He did.

"This is not a standard certificate, in fact I've never seen one like this before."

"No, it is a Met Police firearms unit certificate."

"What's it for? It does not refer to any specific weapon and includes several exemptions from the Firearms Act."

"Do you need to know what it's for?"

"I should."

Gail reached into her bag and removed the Glock.

"Oh shit."

She put it away. Sophie decided to intervene.

"I'm DS Grieve, here's my warrant, I'm Miss Jones' close protection officer. Perhaps we should speak to your Inspector?"

"He's in Truro, we're only a small station. Anyway, I don't like the idea of you two running around Cornwall with weapons, I take it you're carrying too?"

"Yes. Now, can you check if you have the fax from The Met?"

He picked up a phone and called a number somewhere else in the station.

"Sally, can you check the fax machine, apparently there's a fax from the Met?"

He listened for a moment, "Okay, can you bring it to the front counter?"

"Right, it appears there is a fax from the Counter Terrorism Branch, what the hell is this all about?"

"I'm sorry but you're not cleared for that information."

"What a load of tosh," a WPC arrived and handed the sergeant the fax. "Oh, it says you are authorised under the Firearms Act to carry the weapon for personal protection but your name needs amending."

"So, can you do that?"

"No, I don't have any of the relevant licences here. The only thing I can do is to amend it manually and endorse it with the station stamp. If you want anything else done, go to Truro or Plymouth."

He made the amendment, changing Abigail Adams to Gail Jones then copied it. This copy would go to Special Branch in Plymouth, he figured something was wrong but didn't have the resources to deal with it.

A minute later they were back outside.

"Sophie, remind me why did we just do that?"

"Because if you had to prove you were entitled to that certificate it would be difficult as that name didn't now exist."

"I suppose so."

"Anyway, let's see if we can find some luggage ready for Wednesday?"

***

On Wednesday lunchtime the two girls were sat on Plymouth Hoe, looking out to Drake's Island and the Atlantic, enjoying an ice cream. They had checked into a small guest house half a mile from where they were sat, avoiding the Holiday Inn tower that was behind them.

"Isn't this where Francis Drake played bowls before going to defeat the Spanish Armada?"

"That's what the history books said when I was at school, Gail, but I think it's a bit apocryphal."

"Nice story though?"

"Even if it's probably a distortion of the truth? I suppose so."

Let's go for a walk, isn't The Barbican down there?" Gail pointed vaguely to her left.

"Okay, that's one of the oldest parts of Plymouth."

They were walking down one of the narrow cobbled streets when two youths came out of doorways.

"Give us your money, bitches." They had knives.
Cobbled

Gail knew that running was not an option, not in the heels she'd decided to wear this Wednesday. She glanced at Sophie.

"Come on, bitches, give us your bags."

Sophie spoke for them, "since we're both on our periods there's some used sanitary towels in our bags, would just our purses do?"

It seemed that neither of the youths had much experience with feminine hygiene products, which is what Sophie had guessed. One of them waggled their knife.

"Okay, just the purses, quick now."

Gail and Sophie both went into their bags but the look on the faces of the youths was priceless, as they saw two Glocks at close range.

"Drop the knives and get on the floor! I'm a police officer!"

Common sense doesn't appear to be taught in school these days so the two youths lunged at Gail and Sophie. Two shots rang out, the lads dropped and appeared to evacuate their bowels at the same time. Sophie had a set of handcuffs in her vacuous bag so chained them together, by the ankles. Gail didn't see the point in keeping her weapon out so dropped it in her bag, she now had nine rounds left in the magazine. She kicked the knives out of their reach.

Sophie still had her weapon trained on the two idiots when local officers arrived.

"What's going on? Put that weapon down!"

Sophie moved away from the lads, who were muttering death threats, and put her Glock, with the magazine removed, on the cobbled road.

"I'm a police officer, my warrant is in my bag."

A female officer retrieved Sophie's bag and started searching through it.

"Okay, okay. What happened?"

"These two went to mug us. Their knives are over there. We fired a warning shot."

"We?"

"Yes, we were both armed."

He turned back to Gail. "Where's your gun?"

"In my bag, I'll put it on the ground."

"Slowly!"

Gail took the handgun out of her bag and similarly removed the magazine before putting both parts on the ground, she then offered her bag to the female officer.

"Are you a police officer too?"

"No."

"Then why are you carrying an illegal weapon?"

"It's quite legal, it was issued by a Met Police armourer last Friday just before we were attacked by terrorists. My firearms cert is in my bag."

The female officer had already found it and was reading it, "Sarge, the name's been changed and there's a Helston stamp on it."

"Special Branch put a notice out about that. I think you two ought to come with us."

"Where to?"

"Charles Cross Police Station."

"Far?"

"A mile from here."

"Maybe I can get my licence re-issued properly there?"

Sophie didn't try to complain about their de-facto detention as they were driven the short distance into the city centre. Gail pointed at the shell of a church sat in the middle of a roundabout, the WPC responded.

"That's Charles Church, it was destroyed in the second world war and is left as a memorial to all those who lost their lives to the bombings."

The entrance to the Police Station was just off the roundabout, they pulled into the underground car park then Gail and Sophie were told to follow the WPC to a meeting room. Neither of the girls could make a call yet, even though that was paramount.

"Coffee?" Silly question.

As they sipped the hot and almost completely tasteless machine beverage various people started arriving, eventually the door was shut.

"Good afternoon everyone, I'm DI Collins and we're here to find out what the hell is going on. Let's start with Miss Jones, or Adams, telling us who she really is?"

"Sir, could I respectfully ask that you call DI Keane at SO15?"

"Why?"

"Because she will vouch for us, also I don't know who everyone is in here, but I'm not happy with it."

"And why would that be?"

"Because I don't know if anyone in this room is cleared to the appropriate level."

"What level is that?"

"Secret."

"What are you, a bloody spy?"

"Yes. Next?"

Gail kept smiling, showing fear at this point was not an option, she glanced at Sophie and nodded then looked back at DI Collins.

"What about you?" He pointed at Sophie, Gail's diversion had worked.

"Sir, you already know that I'm DS Sophie Grieve. I'm currently Miss Jones' close protection officer, we're down here because her location and identity were compromised last Friday and we were attacked by terrorists in Hertfordshire."

"I heard about it, you're telling me that she was the target?"

"Yes. Now, could you please get hold of DI Keane? Her direct number is in our phones."

There was a pause whilst Gail unlocked her phone, which the DI handed to her.

"There's her number, but there's a limit to what she can say on an unsecured line."

There was a telephone in front of him, he picked it up and dialled the number.

"SO15 DI Keane."

"DI Keane, this is DI Collins of Devon and Cornwall Special Branch."

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

"I have two ladies with me who say they know you."

"Gail and Sophie I presume, what's happened?"

"They are helping us after they both discharged their weapons in the middle of Plymouth. What can you tell me about them?"

"DS Grieve is there to protect Miss Jones but they both have valid certificates for the firearms they carry and, most importantly, appropriate training. I understand that Miss Jones has had a name change on her certificate."

"Yes, who or what was Abigail Adams?"

"I'm sorry, that's off-limits."

"Okay, what is Miss Jones' role?"

"She's working on a counter terrorism initiative but is at severe risk of assassination."

"So you authorised her firearms certificate and the issue of a lethal weapon?"

"No, the Assistant Commissioner authorised it, with the support of the Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee."

"That puts me in a difficult position."

"So, what happened?"

"Apparently two of Plymouth's finest youths pulled knives on the ladies who proceeded to fire a warning shot."

"Understandable, they wouldn't want their bags stolen, would they, especially if there was a pistol in there?"

"Good point."

"So what about the two toe-rags?"

"We've had to hose the cells down, they kacked themselves."

"Good, maybe they'll think twice before pulling that stunt again."

"So I take it you wouldn't support any action against the two ladies?"

"Certainly not, no-one was injured and a crime was prevented. A good result. Given that Gail has now had four attempts on her life in the past six weeks, today must rank as a quiet day."

"Forgive me if I don't share that point of view."

"Now, Gail is at risk if her location becomes known, she and DS Grieve need to leave, with their weapons."

"They're safe here."

"They were attacked inside a Security Services safe house and had to be rescued by the SAS, what makes you think your police station is safe?"

"So she wasn't kidding about the spy thing?"

"I don't know what you're referring to."

"Never mind, thank you for clarifying your position DI Keane."

"No problem. Bye."

He put the handset down and looked at Gail then at Sophie.

"Why couldn't this have happened next week when I'm on leave? Who were these terrorists who were after you?"

Sophie answered, "we believe they an al-Qaeda affiliate."

"And they were after you?" He turned to Gail but was rather incredulous.

"Yes. It's not a whole lot of fun."

"Sir," Sophie grabbed his attention, "have the two muggers been interviewed yet?"

"No, the duty solicitor was dealing with another case."

"Then I suggest you're likely worried about some defence these two might make claiming they were shot at?"

"Yes."

"We're probably not leaving town until lunchtime tomorrow, if you need a statement then I'm sure we can do one, but I suspect they'll confess to this one plus several other muggings."

"You might be correct, but that's not my territory any more. I'll talk to the custody sergeant."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 2 Heather

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Gail and Sophie declined the offer of a police car to take them down to the Barbican, electing to walk instead. They had wasted two hours in the police station but at least had their weapons back. One unfortunate consequence was that they were both hungry, lunchtime had happened whilst they were in that meeting room.

Once they reached The Barbican they paused by the Mayflower Steps, before looking for a decent café. Gail noticed something as they were checking out the third potential eaterie.

"I think we're being followed?"

"We are, I saw that guy in the police station, there'll be another around here somewhere."

"Are they keeping a tab on us?"

"Probably to make sure we don't need to repeat our earlier actions if something happens."

As if on cue, a teenager had grabbed a tourist's handbag and was running towards Gail. Unfortunately their tail hadn't cottoned on to what was happening, so Gail walked straight into the path of the teen who ended up in a heap on the stony quayside.

Their plain-clothed tail finally realised what was going on and headed towards Gail as the teen tried to get up. The owner of the bag now also caught up, Sophie slipped backwards, out of the frame.

"Thank you, thank you."

"No trouble, I'm sure this officer can handle it now?"

"Errr, yes Miss. I'm Detective Constable Evans, and you," he grabbed the teen, "are under arrest."

The DC looked at Gail, who smiled back; she could now see DC Evan's partner approaching, calling for transport. Gail left them to it and rejoined Sophie, plainly hanging around this area was a bad idea. They walked away quickly and used the footbridge to head to the other side of the harbour, soon finding a pub that would supply food to order all day. This was an ideal way to wind down, even though Sophie was technically still on duty.

By five pm Gail was the wrong end of several halves of ale so Sophie asked the bar staff to order a cab back to their B&B.

***

Gail managed a few hours rest, i.e. sleep, but by 7.30pm Sophie was shaking her.

"Come on, we need to have some dinner."

Gail growled.

"Don't give me that, you won't sleep tonight if you stay here, worst than that you'll wake at 11pm and ask for a kebab."

Gail dragged herself into the bathroom and washed her face before reapplying light make-up. Ten minutes later she was fit to head out into the night.

Most of Plymouth's nightlife is on Union Street, but it's not a place to eat unless the most sophisticated food you want is Southern Fried Chicken or Kebabs. Sophie steered Gail towards one of the many Italian restaurants around the city centre, inside it wasn't busy but the lousy service made it seem that way. Sophie ordered them both mineral water and left the wine alone. They were finishing their dessert, ice cream of course, when Gail's phone pinged.

Where will you be tomorrow lunchtime? Organising a courier, Helen.

"Sophie, Helen wants to know where we'll be tomorrow lunchtime? Something about a courier."

"Well, anywhere you fancy visiting?"

"Another beach?"

"Sure, which one?"

"Shall we lunch in Weymouth and take it from there?"

"Sounds good."

Gail tapped a quick reply to Helen but saying they didn't know exactly where in Weymouth.

A few minutes later they had settled the bill and headed back to their overnight accommodation.

***

"So they confessed and have already been dealt with in court?"

"Yes, DS Grieve, there's no need for you and Miss Jones to do anything further. I understand you were leaving Plymouth today, do you know where you're going?"

"No, and please don't try to tail us, I'm trained in counter-surveillance."

"As if ..."

Sophie killed the call, they were already out of Plymouth and were parked outside Exeter Airport. Their plan for the day was simple, head for Dorchester for coffee and shopping, then into Weymouth for lunch and shopping. No need to attract unwelcome attention by letting anyone know their movements.

The first task however was to return their Hertz hire car and to take a car from Europcar, if they were being tailed it would give them a small advantage. Back on the road Sophie took her time, checking the mirrors regularly. If she was expecting anything then it didn't happen and they rolled into Dorchester around eleven.

They had a coffee in M&S, Gail had looked at some tailored suits but wasn't inspired, neither of them made any purchases. By midday they were back on the road for the short drive into Weymouth.

As they reached the outskirts of Weymouth Gail spotted a young man hitching by the side of the road, Sophie spotted him too.

"No I'm not stopping and, if you were driving neither should you."

"I wasn't suggesting that, Sophie. If he's only a mile or so from Weymouth why is he hitching, and why did he not show his face?"

"Perhaps he's escaped from Portland Prison? The entrance wasn't far back?"

Once on Weymouth Quay Sophie looked for somewhere to leave the car, mindful of her recent experience in Windsor. One of the carparks was ideal, plenty of people and plenty of cameras. It was twelve thirty, time to look for somewhere to eat. Gail's phone rang.

"Hello Miss Young?"

"Errr, yes?"

"Hello, I'm a courier and I have a package for you from a Miss Bell. Where are you?"

"Just a moment."

Sophie had caught enough of the conversation to be on her guard already.

"What vehicle are you in?"

"I'm on a bike, black BMW."

"Okay, we're in the Park Street carpark near the marina."

They both kept a look out, Sophie had her bag open with her Glock accessible, Gail's bag was closed but her hand was on it, just in case. A minute later a black bike rode around the corner and came to a stop whilst the rider scanned the area. He phoned again.

"Miss Young, is that you I can see with the other lady?"

"Yes."

The bike now approached but the rider stopped a safe distance away before opening one of the panniers to retrieve a large padded envelope, from the other pannier he took a laptop bag. Only then did he approach Gail with all of the items.

"I'm glad I found you so quickly, these jobs can be a right pain, Miss."

"That's okay, although I wasn't expecting this?"

"This is what Miss Bell gave me this morning, she said there's a letter in the laptop bag. All I need is a signature."

He offered a pad asking that she signed before remounting his bike and leaving at high speed, Gail signed as H. Young , something that she needed to get used to.

"What are we going to do with these?"

"We're going to put them in the boot then go to find lunch, that's what. You can open your presents later."

"Yes, mum."

Sophie was about to swing her bag at Gail when she remembered the bag was still open, she closed it up quickly. They found a café, not a cheap one, just by the marina. Whilst they sat, they talked about the rest of the day; neither had any desire to stay the night in Weymouth so they decided to head into Salisbury, leaving an easy drive into London on Friday if needed.

Sophie suggested they left straight away so, after a wee, they headed the short distance back to the carpark. Apparently without a care in the world, the hitch-hiker they'd seen earlier was now trying to break into their car.

"Move away from the car!"

"Piss off."

"Move away, I'm a police officer."

"Yeah, and I'm the Easter bunny."

Sophie was virtually on top of him but he span around suddenly and caught her chin with his foot. She went down. The hitch-hiker started to go for Sophie's bag, Gail had to act.

"I'm armed, move away now!"

"Yeah, yeah."

She removed the weapon from her bag and aimed.

"One last warning, move away, punk."

"Babe, is it a toy?"

A shot was heard.

The hitch-hiker, plainly distracted by the sound of a gunshot, turned to look towards the marina. Sophie took this opportunity to grab his ankle and pull him roughly down to the ground, before rolling him onto his front and sitting on him. Gail slipped her weapon back into her own bag and picked up Sophie's bag which was still on the tarmac.

Sirens could be heard in the distance and arrived in the carpark within thirty seconds. Officers ran over.

"You can get off him now."

"I'm DS Grieve, Met Police. He was breaking into our car and I suspect he's an escaped prisoner. I don't have any handcuffs unfortunately."

"Correct, he was doing time for armed robbery and broke away from his escort following a hospital visit."

Sophie was getting up and was allowed to get clear before two officers, plainly rugby players, cuffed him then lifted the toad. He was screaming obscenities about having been shot at. Gail handed Sophie her bag and was about to say something when another officer was seen heading from the marina with a detainee, the officer was carrying a pistol, carefully.

"Let me go, I'll hold you personally responsible for any damage to my firearm, I have a permit for it, I have rights!"

The senior officer, Sgt Downes, supervised the removal of the hitch-hiking escapee then turned to the newly arrived detainee.

"What were you doing with a pistol?"

"I'm John Logie Bartholomew the Third and I was cleaning it in the marina, as I said to this officer I have a permit from the State of Maryland. It was an accidental discharge, that's all, certainly not worth this hassle. Where can I buy a box of point four-five around here?"

"Sir, you're under arrest for illegal possession of a prohibited weapon and ammunition. You do not have to say anything...."

Mr Bartholomew (the Third) started complaining loudly, threatening to call the American Ambassador, but Sgt Downes continued with the caution regardless as the American was shoved into a waiting police car. The handgun was placed in an evidence bag and then handed to an officer in the armed response vehicle that had just arrived. Sgt Downes now returned his attention to Gail and Sophie.

"So ladies, thank you for helping detain him but you took an awful risk."

"Sergeant, as I said a few minutes ago I'm DS Grieve of the Met Police," she showed him her warrant, putting it carefully back in her bag, "myself and my friend are on holiday and we'd just got back from lunch when we saw a male attempting to break into our car."

"Yes, the CCTV camera over there caught it", he pointed back across the carpark, Gail realised quickly that her body would have shielded her weapon from the camera.

"The camera operator had a photo of the escaped prisoner so was able to raise this as a priority call. He is a dangerous man, you're lucky he didn't have access to a weapon."

"Quite, you don't need us, do you? I don't think his attempt to break into our car is as important as his recapture? There's no obvious damage."

"No, I'll just take your details and you can go. Is it a hire car?"

"Yes, we just collected it from Exeter Airport."

He took out his notepad and recorded brief details, Gail hadn't yet seen the full bio details for Heather Young's identity so gave her legal name. It was unlikely that Dorset Police would check with Devon and Cornwall Constabulary and discover her firearm.

They climbed into the car as the various police vehicles left the carpark, but Sophie made no attempt to start it.

"That was a close call Gail."

"Too close."

"You have to learn to leave the gun out of sight unless your life is directly threatened, even then let me deal with it. You have no protection in law if you shoot someone who is not about to kill you, the 'self defence' principle is quite restricted. That licence is not a licence to kill, or even to wound."

"I know, but it's that strange buzz I get from carrying it."

"And that's the risk, if you didn't have it, what would you do?"

"Run? Call the police?"

"Exactly. Let me take the risks, that's what I'm employed for. Come on, let's find a hotel and then look at what Helen's sent you."

Gail checked her phone as Sophie pulled away, there was a text from Helen reporting that the courier had confirmed delivery, could she concur? Gail sent a simple reply, understating the situation:

All received but not opening until we reach hotel in Salisbury, eventful lunchtime.

***

They were sat in a twin room at The Red Lion Hotel in the middle of Salisbury, a seriously old hotel. Gail had gone for the large padded envelope whilst Sophie opened the laptop bag. She also found a small router/encryptor plus a boxed mobile phone. Under the laptop lid was a sheet of paper. Sophie read it:

Gail,

In the envelope you should find the following, provisional driving licence, passport, bank cards (same PIN as before), medical card and any others I've forgotten to mention.

One strange item in there is a Home Office Special Warrant, conferring powers under the Terrorism Prevention and Investigation Measures Act 2011 and Criminal Justice Acts. It's a Get Out Of Jail Free card in case you get into difficult circumstances, but you are not to use it unless Sophie agrees.

Now, I've been able to secure accommodation for both of you and the sweep team were in there Wednesday. The phone and broadband go live today but there's no chance to deliver an encryptor so I sent one with the laptop.

The address is contained in an email, the laptop's the same as you used at the house, so you know the password but have to change it immediately. Use a cabled connection to the internet if possible and put the encryptor in the line. Phone me if there's a problem.

The new phone is registered to your new name and is for business and social use only.

Helen

Of course there wasn't a network socket anywhere in the room, indeed there were limited power outlets in the room as well. Fortunately there was a power extension lead in the bag, although Health & Safety die-hards would have declared it a hazard. Gail fired up the laptop and went through two layers of passwords before attempting to access the internet. A webpage declaring it to be a UK Gov level 3 encryptor popped up and asked for the local wireless password, that sent Sophie scurrying to Reception to find it out. It turned out to be 'RedLionHotel', never mind.

Finally she opened found her emails, over a hundred of them. Most would wait for another time, the only one she wanted was Helen's.

From: Helen Bell
To: Heather Young
Subject: Address

Heather,

You and Sophie are to meet me at 16 Caxton Rise, Redhill RH1 4AJ at eleven on Friday morning. Your clothes and belongings will be brought out of storage and delivered around midday.

I've registered a business website for you and any other paperwork can wait until we meet.

I know you weren't responsible for any of the leaks but that does not remove the need for you to be careful, otherwise your clearance and privileges will be cancelled and you're on your own.

Helen

A stark warning, her second of the day, she started to sob. Sophie, gathering that something Gail had read had caused this emotional response, gently turned the laptop towards herself and read Helen's email.

"Gail, don't read anything personal into Helen's words, that's a message that we hear all the time if you have higher level security clearance. Helen doesn't know what happened today yet but I have to write her a report so she will find out, don't be surprised if you have your weapon taken away."

"I didn't want the thing anyway."

"I know, we'll talk to Emily about it, right? She was the one who obtained the authorisation."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Get into that bathroom and give your face a wash, we've still plenty of time before dinner and there's loads of shops out there, put your new cards in your purse, move anything that says Gail Jones into your suitcase so you don't use them accidentally."

Gail emerged from the bathroom having reapplied her make-up, Sophie in the meantime tidied everything away including shutting down the laptop. It was unlikely that a member of the hotel staff would come into the room but it was common sense not to leave anything on display.

They were already in the centre of town but first did the tourist thing and visited the cathedral. It was on the way there that Gail realised she didn't have a camera, her decent camera had been lost when he home had been destroyed. She told Sophie and they went looking for a camera store, they quickly found Jessops.

She was expecting a greasy faced student type salesman but was pleasantly surprised when a lady approached Gail.

"How can I help you today?"

"I'm after a DSLR, I lost mine in a house fire."

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. What brand was it?"

"A Canon EOS 600D."

"Oh, they're good but seriously outdated now. If you're looking for good value then the 1200D is exceptional, there's a package for a 300mm lens too. Only if you want to stay with Canon of course, we have deals with the other major brands too."

"I'd want to stay with what I'm used to, can I see the one you mentioned?"

Gail walked out of the store with the camera around her neck, a large capacity memory card inserted; the packing and the long lens were in a carrier bag. Now she felt properly dressed as a tourist. Next stop was the cathedral.

An hour or so later they were sat in a café just off the High Street, a selection of bags from major and small stores littering the floor, Gail had gone a little overboard. She'd finally found some suits she liked and had bought matching trousers as well as the skirt and jacket, the English weather wasn't always suitable for skirts. David had always avoided suits, but Gail now understood that image was everything.

Her 'H. Young' bank card had suffered to the tune of almost £1000 in the space of a few hours but she was happy. Despite the previous week's attack she was now out of the Security Service's controlling atmosphere and back in the real world. With the following day's move into her own home she was now in the best possible position, even if she still had a bodyguard. Her smile broadened. One thing was clear, Gail was now fitter, having walked and swum whilst in Cornwall, she was also tanned, had clear skin and reasonable teeth, although she needed to see a dentist soon. So far as Gail was concerned, she felt brilliant.

It was nearly five o'clock so they returned to the hotel and dropped off the bags. The stores were starting to close so there was little point heading back out, that decision was confirmed when it started to drizzle, the first rain Gail had seen for a week.

They opted to eat in the hotel's restaurant so, after a make-up check, walked down to the lounge bar for an aperitif. The food followed as they finished the first bottle of wine, a Shiraz naturally.

Talk of the following day's events accompanied the meal. They were over an hour away from Redhill but Stonehenge was only a short distance from Salisbury.

"Can we go there in the morning?"

"We don't have the time. You have to park some distance from the stones and walk the rest, I'm also not keen leaving our kit unattended again."

"I suppose so."

"Look, we'll go there one weekend, although we'll need a car first, I have one but I figure you'll need one eventually."

"I need to restart lessons first."

"So let's have a leisurely start to the day and take breakfast at a civilised time before we hit the road, we need to leave by half past nine."

"Okay."

"Now, most importantly, what do you fancy for dessert?"

***

Friday morning began with Gail wondering what to wear, the sun was out and it looked like it was going to be a warm day. She toyed with a top and shorts, swapped the shorts for a skirt, chose a different skirt but then changed the top as it didn't match. Finally, with the pile of rejects getting higher she put on a summer dress and a cardigan over her shoulders.

"How does that look, Sophie?"

"You looked good with everything you tried on."

"But the dress?"

"It's fine, hurry up as the hotel breakfast won't wait for us."

"I'll just do my make-up."

"Leave it, do it when we get back up here."

"But..."

"But nothing, move!"

Gail fancied the classic cooked breakfast as she figured lunchtime might not happen whereas Sophie was going for the muesli and fruit. Gail ended up with a compromise, a mushroom omelette and some toast, washed down with OJ and coffee.

Back in the room they packed as much as possible into their cases but still had several full bags of purchases left over. That meant several trips by each of them down to the car, but only Sophie had a key. A military operation it was not.

Finally they checked out and hit the road, it was just after nine thirty. The journey was uneventful until they reached the M25 and discovered that one short stretch of roadworks can cause several miles of tailbacks. Finally, once off London's orbital carpark, they approached Redhill. Gail sent Helen a text to let them know they would only be a few minutes.

Sophie drove into Caxton Rise just after eleven. The road was a cul-de-sac half a mile from the town's railway station, Helen was stood outside a detached house at the end of the road. Gail jumped out of the car as soon as Sophie pulled up and ran across to Helen, giving her a hug.

"I've missed you."

"I know Heather." It was now imperative that only her professional name was used and Helen was making certain it started as it meant to go on. "Let's go in before we unload whatever you've picked up."

Helen gave Heather and Sophie the penny tour and wasn't pleased when Sophie made a stake on the master bedroom, citing security as her reason.

"I'm not accepting that."

"But if there was an attack on the house the front bedroom would be the greater risk."

"No, Sophie, if it's my place then I take that room regardless, after all I need the additional space for all my clothes."

Helen intervened, "Heather's quite right and the risk is minimal. All I'll suggest is we fit bullet resistant glass in the front windows."

Sophie wasn't impressed but had to accept the loss of that argument, so would use the slightly smaller second bedroom at the rear. The tour continued into the box room, an 8ft by 8ft central room barely big enough for a single bed. Instead of a bed there was a desk, large monitor, secure phone and a scanner/printer. On the floor next to the paper shredder was a safe.

"What's the safe for?"

"Any restricted documents, your pistol, ammunition, your Gail Jones identity documents, encryptor keys and so on."

"Okay, but what's an encryptor key?"

Helen gave Heather the short version and explained she had to load a new code into the encryptor every Sunday, or she wouldn't be able to communicate with the Security Service. She would be sent new keys monthly and had to store them in the safe.

They finished the tour downstairs then headed into the garden. David had lived in a flat since childhood so had never needed to look after a garden, this would be a new experience for Heather. Helen had brought milk and coffee with her so they sat in the garden after Heather made three mugs, Heather was feeling relaxed.

"Don't get comfortable! Don't you two have a car full of stuff?"

Heather and Sophie started bringing the bags in but Heather stopped carrying and started putting her clothing away.

"How come I'm doing all the carrying, Ga...Heather?"

"I did bring up two bags."

"One of those only contained your make-up!"

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 3 Trouble in Store

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Helen was chuckling, it was now two weeks since the evacuation of the Security Service house when Gail and Sophie had left in a hurry without luggage or possessions and had to think on their feet. They now had a good relationship as friends, in this case the adversity of their circumstances had helped cement their kinship.

Helen did a walk around the ground floor to check the security measures. The front of the house included three hidden cameras, there were additional cameras inside the front door, down the side of the house, in the garage and the garden. The camera feeds were recorded but there were also discrete monitors in the kitchen and by the front door. Each of the external doors included an embedded steel plate and the locks were multipoint.

The girls were happy that the hire car was now empty and started to relax. Unfortunately a van turned up and insisted that Sophie move the car.

"Delivery for Miss Young."

Helen intervened, Heather was still not briefed on how to handle deliveries, even if these were from the Security Service.

"Good afternoon gents, you you have a delivery note?"

"Hello Miss, here's your copy." Helen had drafted it so knew it was okay.

They unloaded the van but Helen was very particular about not allowing the delivery crew into the house, regardless of who they were.

"We'll talk about that later."

That meant that Heather and Sophie were again carrying everything upstairs, although this time Heather did the carrying first and the stowing second. Sophie was pleased to see her laptop, abandoned two weeks earlier, then remembered out loud that she had several reports to write.

"Heather, I'm afraid you need to report on the past two weeks too, starting when the attack began."

"Can't I just copy Sophie's?"

"No, absolutely not."

By now it was past one-thirty and Helen still had to run through the usual practicalities of a new house, the safe combination, alarm codes, panic alarm, lock-down procedure, evacuation procedure, weapons management and secure disposal. This took some time.

"Secure disposal? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Heather, it's simple really. You will scan any documents so they're available but they're also backed up automatically onto our servers. You then shred the original and any copies unless it's essential you keep them. The shredded paper goes into a special bin which will be emptied every few weeks by a contractor. You do not put anything, and I mean anything, into the normal waste or recycling if it has your, Sophie's, security service names or any client's name on it."

"So no paperwork?"

"Not unless it's essential, even then I'd expect you to keep everything except household bills in the safe."

"So I'm responsible for the bills?"

"Of course, the only things you don't have to deal with is the house itself and insurance. The utilities have been given your bank details already so you shouldn't need to do very much. By the way, you two, I'm expecting expenses claims for the past two weeks so I hope you kept receipts, and please don't make it read like fiction."

"As if...."

Heather went around the house checking what was needed from the shops, the answer was loads. They both had the toiletries they'd bought to survive the previous fortnight, plus that which they'd left at the other house, but not domestic cleaning or laundry supplies.

Shopping was the next priority but of course Heather and Sophie first had to sign for keys as well as an agreement covering tenancy, repairs, DIY and security. Then the locking up procedure was explained, the office upstairs was to be locked and alarmed when not needed and always when the house was unoccupied.

They drove to Sainsbury's, a short distance away, and parked in the rooftop carpark. Sophie and Heather both took a trolley and started working their way around the aisles, Helen adding suggestions where necessary. One thing was clear, they needed a bigger store to get better value, that meant driving out of town. The total bill for the two trolleys was around £300 and they were still missing a few things. Heather decided to do an online order next time.

"Be careful!"

"What now, Helen?"

"Try to avoid deliveries and don't let them bring any shopping or parcels indoors. Also we have the problem with loyalty cards, that cashier was quite insistent that you took one of their own cards but those cards can be used to track you. There will be times when you won't want anyone to know where you've been."

"What about the offers?"

"Shop somewhere cheaper instead? Anyway, did you see the photo booth down there?"

"Yes, why?"

"You need to organise a season ticket for the train and we're only five minutes walk from the station but you first need a photo, a few would be useful."

Helen sent Sophie back to the house, reminding her she only had thirty seconds to enter the alarm code before the small tactical device detonated! The look on Sophie's face, however, was more to do with the eighteen bags of shopping that had to be unloaded and stowed whilst the other two wandered off empty handed.

Once Helen and Heather reached the station it was remarkably quiet, but within a few minutes hordes of school children started arriving to catch trains home. Heather managed to find a helpful employee but was in shock when he told her the cost of a monthly season ticket.

"£321!"

"and 80 pence."

"Oh, and 80p. It's not as if I have any choice."

She put her debit card in the reader and typed in her PIN. It was another an expensive day, could she claim this on expenses? Had she even been given an expenses form?

The pair of them walked back to the house, it was a journey Heather would have to get used to but one thing was clear, it was 10 minutes downhill to the station and fifteen minutes uphill to home. Heather put her key in the lock but it wouldn't turn. Helen tried as well but had the same problem. She pushed the bell then waited. And waited.

Finally Sophie opened the door.

"What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Well, Helen, I was given the task of putting everything away so made certain the door was shut whilst I was dashing all over the house."

Helen still wasn't impressed but allowed Heather to continue this argument.

"Come on Sophie, I needed to get my season ticket organised, not that I know what I'm doing on Monday yet." She paused then realised they'd all forgotten something important. "Oh, you will need a season ticket too."

"I have an Oyster all-zone card from The Met so I only need a ticket as far as Croydon on the edge of London. It's not worth buying a season ticket all the way into central London from here for me."

Helen decided she'd spent enough time there and told them she was heading to her own home.

"Play nicely girls. I'll be over for dinner on Sunday."

Both Heather and Sophie had previously enjoyed a solo lifestyle which included lots of take-aways or quick and nasty microwave meals. Given the excellent diet they'd enjoyed at the previous house, continued in Cornwall, a decision was taken that meant they would keep the healthy options. There was also a strategic decision taken, Heather chose the meal today, it would be Sophie's turn tomorrow and so on. That automatically meant that Heather was responsible for Sunday's dinner when Helen had invited herself over.

There was a long list of things to sort out, but they could all wait for another time. By 8pm, suitably fed, tidied and quickly showered, Heather locked the house and retreated to her room, having left her weapon in the safe. Sleep was easy.

***

As Heather woke, she turned to see the time was seven and that sunlight was streaming into the room. Unfortunately she also had that weird sensation of not remembering where she was before it came back to her; she was at home, her new home. Looking around the room she realised a few more comforts would be needed including a rug and a full length mirror, she'd make a list. First on the agenda was a shower, before Sophie needed the bathroom, then the biggest decision of the day - what to wear.

When she entered the kitchen she was surprised to find Sophie already there, with the daily paper and an empty breakfast bowl.

"I thought you were still in bed?"

"I was up at six and went for a run, I'll take a shower shortly."

"I'd like to take a walk around the area later to get my bearings."

"I agree, but I will not do any driving today as I've driven every day recently."

"I wanted to go to Ikea in Croydon."

"What for? There's going to be discount stores nearer here plus you don't need to get everything within the first few days."

"Okay, one thing though is I need a laptop."

"You have one."

"Yes, and everything I do on there is run through the Security Service network. I need a laptop I can use for personal stuff, like streaming video and personal online shopping."

"Right, I can understand that. Get yourself some breakfast, I'll be back down in fifteen."

***

Sophie suggested Heather left her firearm in the safe, given her twitchy fingers of late. This had the unfortunate effect of Heather patting the side of her bag repeatedly as it wasn't as heavy as recently.

"I keep thinking I've left something behind."

"You did, now stop that unless you want someone to think there's really something valuable in there."

The first thing Heather did was to go into the station and pick up a couple of copies of the timetable for London-Gatwick Airport trains, which passed through Redhill, this went into her bag. They continued under the railway line and into the High Street area. As neither Heather, in any of her guises, nor Sophie had been to Redhill previously this was a learning curve.

There was a temptation for Heather to pick up and purchase almost everything she saw but again and again she was reminded that they were on foot, as well as that hill up to their house. They continued their journey along the High Street, mostly just window shopping, until Heather saw a major electrical store. In this store, it being a Saturday morning, they found the standard issue greasy faced teenager who was sure he knew more than the two ladies who had just walked in.

Heather tempted fate by asking about a laptop that had apparently good specifications for a reasonable price.

"Oh, that's now a discontinued model, but we have a large selection and everything comes with an extended warranty. Now what do you need it for? Skype, emails, or just online shopping?"

"No, particle physics research, I'm designing the next matter transporter."

"I'm sure we have a laptop that suits your needs, Miss."

"Unlikely."

The two made it outside and waited for the automatic doors to close before they lost it.

"Particle physics, Heather?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind, he didn't have a clue and was following a script."

"I noticed a sign while you were dealing with him, there's a bigger store in Croydon, we can go there after lunch?"

"Sure."

The next stop was a jewellers, Heather's ears had been pierced by Diane well over a month ago and she was now ready to try alternatives. Sophie tried to offer help but Heather wanted to exert her own style, whatever that was. They took a break in a café, sitting out the front in the warm sunshine. The area was busy with parents dragging school age kids between shops, the little darlings had now been back at school for two weeks following the long summer holiday.

"Heather, I know this place was rather imposed on you but what's your first impressions?"

"The house is okay but it's not really a home yet. So far as the town is concerned, we're in the commuter belt so it's not going to be anything like Hackney."

"Nothing's like Hackney!" They both laughed.

A few minutes later they continued their patrol around the pedestrianised area, picking up small bits of shopping. Heather was relaxed, although Sophie was still vigilant. The last item was a loaf of bread then they headed back to Coxon Rise.

With lunch out of the way Heather changed her mind about going into Croydon that afternoon and pondered Sunday instead, but what time was Helen coming over?

What time Sunday? Planning dinner for 6pm, Heather

The reply only took a minute.

Will be with you around 4. Helen

So an out of town trip was definitely possible.

"Sophie, Helen will be here about four tomorrow, how about we go into Croydon in the morning instead of today? I'm going to plough through those emails."

"Okay, I'll work on my report."

Heather walked up to the box room, the office, and punched the alarm code to unlock the door. Heather's real reason for tackling the emails now was to avoid being stuck when the encryption code needed changing the following day, as it would every Sunday.

Many of the emails were administrative, it seemed Heather was now on the main distribution list for Thames House security and management notices, plus the financial intelligence team's own list. She set up a filter to move them automatically to a couple of folders then looked at what was left.

Given that her laptop had been taken away several days before the house had been evacuated, some of the emails dated back to the end of August whereas it was now mid September, that meant several of the emails were superseded by later ones. Of the rest, Heather had been copied into emails between other analysts but the subject matter was outside her role.

One email stood out, it had been sent the day before by Dave Brown in the Financial Intelligence team at the Security Service:

To: Heather Young
From: Dave Brown
Date: 12 September 2014
Subject: Next assignment

Heather,

You'll be pleased to hear that I have passed the Fourani data onto a junior analyst who's joined the team in the past few weeks. You had almost finished squeezing all the intel out of it so consider this a big thank you for all your hard work in the face of adversity!

I'd like to remind you that we were planning to meet on alternate Fridays, could that start on the 19th please? 10am.

Now, we have an interest in a firm that's just gone into voluntary receivership. You'll go in as one of the receivers, we'll have your accreditation ready by Monday, expect a package that morning with the documents, everything else is on the server. Phone me if you have any questions, I'm told you have a secure phone.

Regards

Dave

Heather was pleased she could dispense with the Hamiz Fourani investigation, but what was this company that the spooks were interested in? How would she explain Sophie's presence? She accessed the team's secure files and found a new folder within her own area, she read the summary.

Syrrah Imports Ltd

Syrrah Imports Ltd is believed to be involved in the import of arms into the UK and had done business with the late Hamiz Fourani as well as various al-Qaeda affiliates in Europe. More recently it had been linked to ISIS. Their bank, Arab Commercial Bank, has called in a substantial overdraft. The company has entered voluntary administration while they restructure their finances. The bank's deadline is two weeks from this morning.

Gail read the short text twice, she wasn't free of the Fourani files at all. She looked elsewhere in her area and found that the Iranian's accounts were still there, so she could at least cross-reference, but a two week deadline? Great, not! She wanted to have a rant about it but her briefings had been clear, no-one other than Dave Brown himself was cleared to discuss the work with Heather, unless he said otherwise. That meant she couldn't talk it through with Sophie but still had to include her in the work. Great, again.

She now turned her attention to the secure phone, the one she'd used in the library back at the other house had a thing sticking out of the side, this phone, although it looked the same, had a slot instead. There were no instructions with the phone and no phone book she could find.

Heather went back to the files and looked in the general folder for telephones, finally she found the instructions - there was supposed to be a plastic key, although the instructions said the key should be removed when the user left their desk. The key should then be locked in an approved container. That must mean the safe, Heather realised.

She opened the safe and started to empty out the contents, including everything she'd put in there the previous day. Her weapon was put to one side, she would get a plastic box for it, perhaps get a few boxes so she could stack them? One of the last items to come out of the safe was an envelope containing the plastic key, there was a receipt that needed to be returned to someone, somewhere. She inserted the key, or tried as it was upside down first attempt. The phone then started doing things and several lights came on. She removed the key and it went back to a quiet state.

She also found a pack of electronic updates for the internet encryptor. These were in the form of a USB memory stick that needed to be inserted at the appropriate time, well she couldn't get that wrong could she?

In amongst the paperwork she did find a phone directory, although Helen's and Emily's secure landline numbers were missing, unfortunately it wasn't the kind of information a public directory service could give you. Heather did have their mobile numbers and was seeing Helen the following day so it wasn't imperative. Satisfied she was mostly organised she started to put everything back in the safe, making a note to obtain some clear plastic boxes.

Heather next started a list of the stationary items she would need, this was not a short list and she felt the best way to deal with it was a little online shopping. Of course all the main shopping websites were blocked, damn she did need that second laptop. She gave up, locked up and walked back downstairs.

Sophie wasn't in the kitchen, nor the lounge. The kitchen door out into the garden was open wide but, as Heather noted, at least the side gate was secured. She thought she could hear something at the far end of the garden, in a wooden shed. Where was Sophie? Heather crept towards the shed and was now convinced someone was in there, but there was no window in the side panel to confirm.

There was a loud noise, the sound of metal hitting metal, causing Heater to jump. She wanted to call out for Sophie but didn't want to alert anyone who might be in there, now she regretted leaving her weapon in the safe. There was another noise, almost a bang and a small dark shape dashed out of the shed. Damn, it was a cat all along.

"You finished already Heather?"

She span around, Sophie was walking from the kitchen.

"Where were you?"

"Having a wee, why?"

"I heard noises from down here."

"I left the shed door open to get some air in there, did that cat come back?"

"Yes, we'll have to keep the shed shut. How's the report going?"

"I'll finish it later, but I reckon my expenses claim will take longer."

***

"Have you found one you like yet?"

"Not yet, but there's several on the maybe list."

"Come on Heather, you've been at this fifteen minutes already!"

"Give me a chance, I don't want to get a laptop that I can't use. I really want Windows 7 anyway, and these all have the lousy 8."

"Does that matter?"

"Yes, it's a question of what I'm used to."

Five minutes later Heather walked to the cashdesk having found an acceptable laptop in the discount section, the last one. Of course, now she had the problem of the added optional extras.

"Our proven anti-virus product is on special offer, only £50 for a year for total protection."

"No thanks, I'll install my own."

"Are you sure, the cost of virus removal isn't covered under the warranty, so that £50 could be much cheaper than fixing it afterwards?"

"No thanks."

"Okay, the extended warranty is £80 for three years."

"No."

"But this for peace of mind."

"No, I don't want it."

"I can give you a special price of £60 just for today."

"No."

Sophie was stood trying to look bored, but in reality was scanning the area. Heather was stood too long in any one place and the conversation with the assistant was attracting the attention of other shoppers. Sophie was not impressed. Heather was tempted to ask for the store manager but the cashier gave up his fight and processed the payment then handed over the boxed device, meaning that Heather and Sophie could leave.

Unfortunately the cashier hadn't deactivated the security tag so the doorway alarm sounded, security staff immediately appeared.

"You'll have to come with us."

"No."

"You don't have a choice."

"I'm not the one here who's in the wrong. That cashier," she pointed, "is either stupid enough not to deal with the security tag or decided this is retribution for my refusal to take the extended warranty."

"I will have to place you under a citizens arrest whilst we summon the police, we have a strict policy when dealing with shoplifters."

"I still have the bloody receipt in my hand, are you blind?"

Sophie was even less impressed by these circumstances but too no action until one of the security guards made a grab at Heather, causing her to drop the box. Sophie in turn grabbed the guard, produced her warrant and a set of cuffs.

"Now you have your wish, get the manager here NOW!"

***

Heather and Sophie eventually left the store fifteen minutes later after the manager reviewed the camera footage from the sales desk and the doorway. He struggled to concede that the store was in the wrong but was apparently taking this line to avoid admitting fault. Sophie had decided that this was one of those occasions when Heather's special warrant might come in useful and this swayed the manager, or was it the threat of legal action plus some promised immigration checks on his staff?

The laptop had been damaged when dropped so Heather no longer wanted it, although at first the manager had alleged that it was dropped deliberately, a pointless line of argument when the video said otherwise. When she was offered a replacement laptop, despite the improved specification, it was installed with Windows 8. Heather refused and demanded a refund, although a credit voucher was first offered, and declined.

"Heather, we are not going to another computer store, you can use my laptop to do an online order."

"I suppose so."

The headed back to the car but before they left the carpark Heather spotted a discount home furnishings store. In the space of twenty minutes she had three rugs, a full length mirror, cushions, bedding, kitchenwares and loads of other bits. The cash desk was simple and swift, the complete antithesis of the warehouse electrical store.

They were leaving the store when a member of staff approached, Sophie feared the worst.

"Hello Ladies, you've won a free meal in our coffee shop for being the 250th customer so far today."

"Is there a catch?" Sophie asked.

"None at all, here's the voucher."

"Heather, what do you think?"

"I was going to suggest we had lunch before we headed back."

"Okay, let's stow this in the car then we'll take up the offer."

***

It was half three in the afternoon when they arrived back at the house and it took a few trips to the car so that all of their purchases could be carried in. Both of the main bedrooms gained a rug, as did the living room. Heather had been pleased to find the plastic storage boxes she wanted, some for the kitchen and some for the safe. There was also a stack of stationary items for the office and a desk organiser, considering they'd only been in the house for two days Heather was definitely organising things her way.

They had also managed a quick visit to a supermarket for food, although a wander through the clothing section was needed plus industrial quantities of laundry supplies to clear the mountain of washing that was still outstanding.

It was Heather's turn to cook dinner so she made a start on that as soon as the other tasks were dealt with, however that meant she was still preparing vegetables when the doorbell rang. Heather looked at the monitor in the kitchen and saw it was Helen, superimposed on the image was the date & time as well as the registration number of Helen's car plus an automatic lookup on the stolen or suspicious vehicles database, although this aspect of the security system hadn't been mentioned before.

Sophie reached the door before Heather had even left the kitchen and had one hand on her concealed weapon as she looked through the spyglass at Helen's face then carefully opened the door checking that no-one else was nearby.

"Thank you Sophie, but if you had taken any longer I would have used my set of keys. Now, where's Heather?"

"Right here, Helen."

Heather was dressed in an apron and was holding a wooden spoon, although she'd just forgotten what she was using it for. She gave Helen a hug then retreated to the cookery department, Helen followed and sat down at the kitchen table.

"I have some more bits for you that I forgot on Friday."

"Okay, I hope you don't mind if you're talking to my rear while I'm getting dinner organised?"

"Not at all, nice skirt by the way."

"Thanks, I bought it in Salisbury but today was the first time I've worn it."

"How are the two of you coping so far?"

"Pretty good, although we haven't had a major falling out yet."

"So I don't need to find yet another bodyguard for you?"

"Not yet, not today anyway."

"I have had all your certificates re-issued in your current name, I had an email from Dave Brown asking that you had everything by the end of this weekend."

"Yes, I've had an email from him."

"He didn't tell me what the urgency was, but I suspect you know?"

"I might do but I'm waiting for further information."

"Right." Helen might have known what the deal was but was also pleased that Heather hadn't blabbed to her. "I'll let you get on with dinner, I'm going to speak to Sophie."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 4 Rat Trap

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

It was after dinner, after the dishwasher had been loaded, that Helen suggested she and Heather had a chat in the office.

"Sophie tells me you've had an interesting weekend."

"If having a lousy time trying to buy a laptop counts, yes."

"I've had to warn Sophie not to get wound up, but you, young lady, are supposed to be keeping a low profile."

"That's not always as easy as it sounds, things do seem to happen around me."

"Well, hopefully things will settle down. Now, have you changed the encryption code?"

"Not yet, and I don't have your or Emily's secure landline numbers."

"Okay, can you get the encryptor kit out of the safe and we'll update your directory as well."

Helen showed Heather how to update the security equipment so that she could log into her Security Service account. Helen was impressed with Heather's method for tidying the safe although it was the first time she'd seen a Glock 26 in a food storage container.

"Just don't put it in the freezer by mistake!"

"I'll try." They laughed.

"Helen, what really happened with Anna?"

"The investigation is still ongoing but it seems she knew Fatima Hussaini-Davis, they were at college together. Apparently Anna hadn't long filled in the paperwork to renew her clearance when the job at the house came up, but her clearance hadn't expired at that point either. It was a few weeks later, after the incident at Kew, when a closer look was taken and the connection to Fatima was made."

"So her brother's involvement wasn't known about before then either?"

"No, but he had been Fatima's boyfriend last year for a few months."

"Oh, so was the Kew incident staged to make Anna look good?"

"No, it was to check for any extra surveillance and protection that she wasn't aware of."

"So what happens to her now?"

"There's psychiatric reporting plus long interviews to find out what she knows. Whether she ends up in a court depends alot on how useful her information is."

"Specifically?"

"Whether she knows if there's a mole in the organisation and, if so, who?"

"That's a biggie. Any ideas?"

"No, the Security Service is re-running background checks on everybody involved in this operation, that includes you and me."

"Now, what do I do about getting a Doctor and a dentist locally, I could do with some work done on my teeth plus I'll need repeat prescriptions soon."

"I'll make some enquiries and find a dentist who's good. So far as a doctor is concerned, I had to register you with a GP when I was creating your identity. The name's on your new NHS Medical Card."

Gail opened the safe and took out one of her plastic containers. This one had documents, inside was the card she was looking for. The surgery address was 99 Station Road, walking distance from the house if necessary. She knew she would have to make an appointment.

"I'm just wondering how I tell the Doctor?"

"Tell what to the Doctor?"

"That I'm still, still ......"

"Don't be silly, firstly there can't be a doctor in Redhill who hasn't dealt with a transgendered patient plus your medical record will have that information."

"Well, what if I want to have the surgery done?"

"Then you might need to see Hannah again, but she only knew you as Gail so that could become difficult."

"Thanks."

"That's alright Heather, you're doing just fine. Can you promise me something though?"

"What's that?"

"Can I have that report and your expenses claim pronto!"
Lost property

Heather was unsure which task to start first, her report covering two weeks or her expenses claim covering the same two weeks? She opted for the expenses claim but then spent some time wandering around the server's archives for a blank form. Of course the next task was to find all the receipts, although it wasn't as simple as that. Payments had been made initially as Abigail Adams, then as Gail Jones and more recently as Heather Young.

The next task was to organise the receipts into date order and try to remember what they were doing on that particular day. One other matter, was a haircut chargeable? By ten o'clock on Sunday night she'd had enough so locked the office door and headed for her room.

As soon as breakfast was complete on Monday morning she was back in the office, a new email dropped in whilst she was sifting the remaining receipts.

From: Dave Brown
To: Heather Young
Subject: Assignment pack

Heather,

One of our messengers is on his way to you with a package, it requires a signature and I'd be grateful for an email to confirm receipt as well. There's a key in the safe you'll need.

Regards, Dave

This confirmed what she'd read on Saturday, but what was in this package? She didn't have long to wait as a beep alerted her to the security monitor located in the office as a biker pulled up outside. The numberplate recognition system identified it as a Departmental vehicle, but the plate was on the wrong side for the cameras, meaning there had to be a camera across the road somewhere. The biker walked to wards the door, removing helmet on the way.

Sophie was obviously aware that a biker was approaching but Heather hadn't mentioned the planned delivery yet so treated this as an unwelcome visitor, unless they proved otherwise. Heather shouted down the stairs.

"It's a delivery for me."

Outside the biker held an ID card up to the obvious door camera, there was more than one, so Sophie could see it, only then did she unlock the door.

"Delivery for Miss Young, I need a signature."

The parcel was an internal mail pouch bearing the royal crest but not the name of any government department. Sophie took the pouch and signed his receipt book, the pouch was sealed with a padlock. Sophie closed the front door.

"Heather, do you know anything about this?"

"Can you bring it up?"

Sophie wasn't impressed but walked up the stairs with the pouch. She found Heather at her desk, the safe was open, the laptop logged in and receipts everywhere.

"To have come down I would have had to locked everything away and log off, then reverse process when I returned here."

"Okay, what's in the pouch?"

"Stuff from Thames House, I had an email today." No point mentioning the email she'd read on Saturday. "I might have an assignment but until I read what's in there," she pointed, "I don't know where, when or what." Again she was being vague, but out of necessity.

"Let me know if we need to go anywhere, I might need to check the area out first."

"I will."

Heather had already located the small padlock key in the safe, she'd seen it on Saturday but at the time hadn't known what it was for. She unlocked the pouch then pulled the inner envelope out, it was simply marked with her name. Inside that, however was a further envelope stamped "Top Secret". She looked up, Sophie was still stood there.

"I'm sorry Sophie but I'm told I have to open this privately, but I promise to let you know about anything relevant, I hope you understand."

Sophie turned and closed the door as she walked slowly downstairs. Heather didn't know if that was through respect for her words or because of disgruntlement.

Heather first wrote a swift email to Dave Brown and confirmed receipt. She then opened the inner package onto her desk and inspected the contents. Firstly there was a new identity card for the Security Service in her Heather Young identity, then there was a letter of accreditation from UK Banking PLC appointing Heather as an administrative receiver in respect of a secured debt against Syrrah Imports Ltd of Elephant & Castle.

Heather took the special key out of her safe and inserted it into the secure phone before calling Dave Brown.

"Hello Dave."

"Hi Heather, I've seen your email so I understand you're calling about the package."

"Yes, I thought I was going in as a court appointed receiver?"

"That was the original case but it turned out that the building's mortgage was taken out with UK Banking PLC whereas the business loan was with Arab Commercial Bank, it was a question of us finding the best way to get you into the building with the correct paperwork."

"So I take it the arrangement with UK Banking is genuine and can be checked?"

"Yes."

"Will Arab Commercial Bank try to appoint anyone?"

"Someone from the bank may well contact you but I understand it was an unsecured short term loan so has less priority than the mortgage, which is secured on the building."

"Right, has anyone called a creditors meeting yet?"

"No, that's for you to arrange when you get to site tomorrow, you're expected at nine thirty."

"Standard practice then, now what about Sophie?"

"Ah, she'll have to be your PA then."

"But I have no business cards for her, nor me for that matter. I'll also have to organise a business mobile for her."

"Leave that all with me."

"Okay, speak later?"

"Sure. Bye."

Heather logged out, closed the safe and locked the door before heading down to the kitchen; she was in desperate need of a heavy duty caffeine infusion. Sophie was in the kitchen having just made a mug for herself.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

"Can you now tell me what's going on?"

"Yes, I've been appointed as a receiver for to a firm that's dealt with the Fourani family and some of the factions in Germany."

"You're kidding?"

"No."

"But that puts you back in the firing line."

"There's a risk, but this is work, it's what I get paid for."

"But I still don't think the risk is worth it. Where's the place we've got to go?"

"Elephant & Castle."

"Just great, can you give me the exact address so I can scope it? I might even go over there today to have a look, are you planning to stay here?"

"I've got loads to do, but I need you home to cook dinner!"

"Oh, I need to print my reports."

"The printer's on and it's networked so your laptop should be able to see it."

"I'll do that in a moment, fancy a biccy?"

"Oooh, Hob Nobs."

***

They'd taken an early lunch then Sophie had caught a train towards London Bridge Station, which was only two stops on the tube from the famous Elephant & Castle roundabout, close to the River Thames. The location was named after a pub that apparently existed during the English middle ages, long since destroyed and rebuilt, several times.

Heather returned to her office and logged back in. Her secure phone rang.

"Heather?"

"It's Helen, can you put the key in?"

Heather reached down to the safe where she'd locked away the security key for the secure phone, then inserted it.

"Still there?"

"Yes Helen, we're secure."

"Now, I had Dave Brown onto me about business cards and a mobile, it seems that you need some for tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Can't Sophie go out for some?"

"No, she's checking something out near London Bridge for me." No need to be too precise, London Bridge was a mile from Elephant & Castle.

"Damn, so you can't go anywhere?"

"Not really, not without endangering the local population."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

"Bye."

Heather knew there was probably a printing firm nearby who could make 50 or 100 cards very quickly. Now, hadn't Helen mentioned a business domain? She called Helen back.

"Another thought, you said last week you'd registered a domain name for me, I need a legitimate business email address and a website, they have to be included on the cards."

"OK."

It was now one in the afternoon and it didn't look as if Heather would be ready for the morning. She was running through a mental check-list when she realised that she didn't have a briefcase or a suitable bag for her paperwork and supplies. She sent a text to Sophie's phone using her official mobile, then put both phones on charge.

She felt thirst during the afternoon and wished she had a mini fridge in her office, something else on a lengthening list of 'must-haves'. Breaking protocol she went to the kitchen to fetch a glass and was half way up the stairs when the office's alarm panel started flashing, she entered the code and it settled down. Next, her secure phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Miss Young?"

"Speaking, who is this?"

"Thames House security, we just had an alarm activation for your property."

"I was on my way back into my office when the panel flashed, I entered the code and it's fine again."

"So you were out of the office?"

"Only for a minute."

"The proximity alarm will activate in 45 seconds if no-one is in the room when it's unlocked."

"Oh, so what if I need the toilet?"

"Pull the door closed when you leave the room, it will enable the alarm, you only have to enter the code to go back in."

"Okay, thanks."

"No trouble."

Great, so now they could tell when she wasn't in the office. Heather returned to finalising her expenses claim, but not including any of this week's purchases, or perhaps attempted purchases. She also created a spreadsheet for the current assignment and a master spreadsheet, then scanned the accreditation letter and added it to the relevant folder.

Now she could start work on her report. Sat in the printer was Sophie's expenses claim but there was no sign of her report, not that she was supposed to copy it, of course. Where to start? The first few words seemed to take ages but then they started to flow, the expenses claim was a help as it showed where the two girls had been on any given day, especially using Sophie's expenses to confirm and fix any errors in her own reports.

By 5pm her draft report was finished, she'd go back through it later, or even the following day, but the worst was over. There was a noise downstairs and she could hear the door opening.

"Heather?"

"Yes?"

"Could you come down?"

"On my way."

Heather closed the safe but left everything else out, ready to restart work. She shut the office door before heading for Sophie's location, who now was sat in the kitchen, a bag of shopping and a new briefcase next to her.

"We have a problem."

"What sort?"

"The property doesn't exist, the firm doesn't exist."

Sophie suggested silently that the pair head down the garden, away from the house.

"You can't have looked in the right place."

"Don't even try that approach, of course I looked in the correct place."

"So what's there?"

"I checked the address and the postcode on Google Maps, what was there was a derelict warehouse, it had been empty for several years judging by the decay."

"Come on Sophie, what do you think is going on?"

"We were due to go there in the morning, just the two of us, so it would be a trap. We'd be sitting ducks without any support."

"Shit."

"Quite.

"What do we do?"

"Let's go out for a walk."

"Why, oh, I could do with stretching my legs."

They walked back inside and made small talk about shopping whilst Heather tidied her office, disabled all the electronics and secured everything, although felt it necessary to remove her handgun and a spare magazine first. Both of her phones had been on charge in the office so she left them there. Finally, with a cardigan and her bag she met Sophie in the hallway. Sophie had her phone but had turned it off.

They walked, as calmly as they could, taking first a lane that would lead towards the town, but then turning in the opposite direction. They were walking up onto heathland above the town which commanded a view all around. Once she was satisfied they were alone, Sophie switched on her phone and called Emily.

"We have a vermin problem."

"Understood."

"Proceeding to rendezvous alpha."

"Received."

Sophie turned off her phone and beckoned Heather to follow her, she was using her extensive counter-surveillance training whereby you trusted the very minimum and rebuilt trust on stage by stage basis. Right now, DI Emily Keane of the Counter Terrorism Unit was the only person Sophie, and by definition, Heather, could trust. Sophie had obviously pre-arranged a separate set of protocols with Emily.

They came out onto a road, by a bus stop that had services to Croydon. It didn't take long for a bus, route number 405, to arrive; they boarded and quickly found seats. Again, conversation was kept to an absolute minimum.
The journey was forty five minutes long but Heather had no idea where they were going. They finally alighted outside the Whitgift Centre on Wellesley Road in Croydon.

Sophie led Heather into Block B of the Whitgift estate and to an innocuous door labelled "Croydon Enterprises". There was a security lock, Sophie used her police identity card to open it. Once inside Sophie made certain the door was shut then tapped a code into a keypad before relaxing.

"Right, you haven't told me a thing since we left the house an hour ago."

"Sorry Heather but we don't yet know what we're dealing with. Did you know in advance there was a mole?

"No, but Helen mentioned there was a suspicion when she came over on Sunday, nothing definite."

"Well, we do indeed have a mole problem."

"What is this place?"

"It's a Met Police command centre."

"Why in Croydon?"

"Didn't you notice those buildings across the road? That's the immigration headquarters for the whole of the UK."

"Never needed to know that before."

"Right, let's get the phone sorted." She accessed a small key safe and located the secure plastic key for the special telephone that was on the desk, then inserted it and dialled Emily's number.

"We're secure?"

"Yes Sophie, is Heather with you?"

"Yes." She handed the phone to Heather.

"Hello Emily? It looks like we have a problem."

"I know very little so you'd better explain."

Heather told Emily what she could, right now the secrecy status didn't seem to be relevant. Heather than passed the phone to Sophie so she could explain her activities of the day. Then the phone passed back to Heather.

"So the package came direct from Dave Brown?"

"Yes."

"Did it have your address on it?"

"No, I thought that was curious."

"No sensible, only the messengers need to know the address and they're part of the security department."

"Does that mean that the house hasn't been compromised?"

"No, but it reduces the risk. Where do you think the mole is?"

"Given that only a few people in the Security Service, yourself and Helen knew my change of identity, that restricts the mole to that group."

"Right, I've worked with Helen for years and trust her, but let's first look at the Security Service personnel. Who do you deal with?"

"Dave Brown, and that guy who does the security briefings."

"John Smith. Both of them are long term officers, not far from retirement, who else?"

"No-one directly."

"That doesn't help."

"Sorry."

"Okay, we've two issues, maybe three, this is what we'll do ....."

***

The two of them locked the police office and walked to the underpass before crossing Wellesley Road, sitting next to one of the immigration buildings was a Jury's Inn Hotel, Sophie booked a twin room in her name. They then headed back across the road and into the shopping centre, an overnight kit and change of clothes for the morning was needed before the shops closed at seven. They followed one of the tram lines as it wound down the steep Church Street then turned into Surrey St, Sophie seemed to know where she was going.

They entered the Dog & Bull Public House and found a seat towards the rear.

"It was your turn to cook."

"No, my turn to get dinner so I'll order the food, what do you want to drink?"

"I'll have a Youngs Special, a pint."

"A pint? I thought you were a lady and drank halves?"

"Ladies can drink pints plus it'll save you an extra trip to the bar!"

They discussed very little over their meal, the subject matter wasn't appropriate for a pub but at least they had anonymity. By nine they were in their hotel room, only four nights since they'd last shared a room.

***

They caught a train at seven in the morning to London Bridge station and walked into Borough Market, next to Shakespeare's reconstructed Globe Theatre. They settled outside a café and ordered breakfast. Emily met them in there a few minutes later, she wasn't alone.

"Heather, Sophie, this is Commander Bond."

"You're kidding. James?"

"No, and I guess it's not 'Basildon' either." Sophie was enjoying this.

"If you don't mind, I'm Kenneth Bond."

"Good morning." echoed Sophie and Heather.

"Now, ladies, once we've had some breakfast I would like to go to our command vehicle."

Their food, the standard artery brittling foodstuff, arrived just then, complete with industrial sized coffee mugs. That silenced the proceedings for a while. Once the post-breakfast requisite toilet visits had been made they walked out of the Northern side of the market and climbed into the back of a plain van. Now Emily explained the plan.

"We haven't had much time but I had to bring Commander Bond into the group given the seriousness of the accusation."

"I understand Emily, but I'm losing count of the number of attempts on my life."

"That's unfortunate Heather, but we don't know the extent of the damage yet."

"Okay, what's the plan?"

"We have two volunteer officers dressed much as you would, in smart business wear, and they will approach the site from Elephant & Castle underground station before visibly checking paperwork as if they're lost. Nearby we have an armed response team. You can watch it on that monitor."

Ken Bond took over, "plainly this is not a small undertaking and I was somewhat surprised at the value DI Keane puts on you Miss Young."

"I appear to have helped in a few cases."

Emily interceded, "helped take out virtually an entire terrorist organisation, don't play yourself down."

"It's a job."

"Yes, anyway this is now a major operation considering we could be dealing with an administrative error."

"An administrative error that involves MI5 and UK Banking PLC?"

"Entirely possible, just unlikely. Given that the original accreditation is locked in your safe we can't even check you read it correctly."

"Thank you for your vote of support, I am being setup, prepared for the slaughter. If it weren't for Sophie's insistence to come down here yesterday afternoon we wouldn't have known in advance and you'd be scraping my bits off the pavement."

"You know that in 75% of these operations nothing happens."

"I know that every credible attack on me could have been deadly, after the last one I was evacuated by the SAS. They were not impressed that I was armed inside their base."

"Armed?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes, both of us."

"Who agreed that?"

Emily responded. "I submitted the request but it was the Assistant Commissioner who approved, with the support of the Chair of the Joint Intelligence Committee."

"That's outside my pay scale."

Heather giggled, "that's what the armourer said."

"Everyone, it's nine fifteen and the decoys should be just getting out at Elephant and Castle. If you put the headphones on you can hear the radio traffic."

Heather could see a live feed from the response vehicle and was following the decoys as they approached the site. They went through their rehearsed routine and looked at a mock up of the accreditation letter then shrugged and started to walk back towards the tube. The Commander was becoming irate, muttering about a waste of resources, but had the support vehicle move up and past the girls.

As it parked, two men in suits came out of a doorway and intercepted the undercover officers.

"Which one of you is Heather, or Gail?"

"Don't know who you mean?"

There was a quick exchange of Farsi and the two men went to restrain the decoys, which did not go as planned. Whilst the officers responded with force frustrating their attackers, the support team were released. They had also identified a third man who was stood holding a door open and targeted him at the same time.

The female decoy officers were shaken but uninjured and went to the support vehicle whilst waiting for their own transport. The radio reported that three males had been detained and one premises was being searched.

"Commander Bond, will you now accept that this was a credible threat against me?"

"Well, yes."

"Emily, we do indeed have a problem."

"Yes Sophie. We now need to interview these males, assuming that they'll tell us anything of course."

"But Emily, can I go back to the house?"

"Not right now, we have plenty of work to do first and we need to get started straight away."

"How about I pay a visit to Dave Brown?"

"Go to Thames House?"

"Yes."

"Sophie doesn't have a pass, do you?"

"No, perhaps Heather could sign me in?"

"I have a better plan, he can come to my office and meet us there."

They were on their second coffee when Dave Brown appeared in Emily Keane's office.

"This had better be good, oh hello Heather."

"Good morning, although when you hear what we have to say it probably won't be a good morning."

The door was shut and Emily made the introductions.

"Heather Young who you know, DS Sophie Grieve and Commander Ken Bond."

"Who else is aware of this meeting?"

"Only my PA."

"How much does Commander Bond know?"

"None of the background, Dave."

"Then I'm sorry but we'll have to exclude you, Commander Bond."

"I'll be at Paddington Green dealing with our latest guests."

He left, and then there were four.

"What's the problem?"

"We have a mole."

"Evidence?"

Emily recounted what she'd been told, aided by Heather, starting with Dave's first email of the previous week. She finished with the morning's arrests.

"So, Dave, how do you explain that?"

"One of my team didn't show this morning, he was the one who did the research and prepared the package."

"So he had Heather's name, what else did he have?"

"He didn't have access to Heather's staff record which would include all her aliases, nor her home address."

"How did the messengers deliver it then?" Heather decided she needed answers.

"They have an index of delivery points, your home address is the main delivery point for your name."

"You just put my name on it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but how did he connect Heather to anyone else? The Abigail identity was burned by Anna, who also knew Gail and presumably David, but she didn't know Heather."

"But she did know you were a part of my team, and so did the rest of my team."

"Bugger."

Emily intervened, "what's the name of the lad who didn't turn up?"

"Jeremy Davis."

"Davis? Related to Fatima Husseini Davis? She dated Anna's nephew for a while."

"I don't have his bio information, I'll have it sent here Emily."

He borrowed Emily's secure phone but had his own key attached on a chain, which he now inserted. He then dialled a number.

"John, it's Dave, I'm over at SO15 and we have a problem. Could you pull Jeremy Davis' records and fax them to this number? I need all his computer records and his clearance needs to be suspended pending an enquiry. Can you also check for any alarm activations at Heather Young's house. Cheers."

He rang off but stayed plugged into the phone. Separately Emily used her own terminal to run some searches.

"Anna's been bailed!"

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 5 Driven Mad

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

"Anna's been bailed? When?" Heather was not happy.

"Last week, Tuesday, her solicitor claimed that the terrorism charge wasn't applicable as it was a robbery not anything more serious. Of course, she was now mourning for the loss of her brother and was in pain because of being shot and needing hospital treatment. A real sob story, I guess the magistrate swallowed it wholesale."

"So what's she been up to in that time?"

"I don't know, give me a moment."

Emily left the room. Those remaining, Heather, Sophie and Dave Brown were all contemplating how bad the situation was. Heather's new identity had been obtained, but apparently not her address - yet. Sophie's involvement hadn't yet been compromised, but would her task of protecting Heather become too difficult?

Emily was back after a few minutes. "My team are looking for Anna Greig and any others of the Greig and Davis family. Now, where's the original of your accreditation from UK Banking?"

"In my safe."

"Then we best have it examined by a forgery expert?"

"Sure."

The fax machine started to whirr and several pages came out of it, Dave Brown handed one to Emily who rushed off again, apparently it was Jeremy Davis' home address and basic bio details. His personal mobile was also listed, they could use that to track him. When she returned, Dave Brown gave her the rest of the paperwork and read a short note to Heather.

"No alarm activations since one o'clock yesterday afternoon."

"Yesterday afternoon, Heather, but you were there?"

"Yes Sophie, I was. I just nipped out of the office for a glass of water and the room decided it was empty. I spoke to security and we sorted it out."

Dave Brown and Emily laughed, they were used to this sort of thing.

"Now, shall we take a ride to Redhill?"

Dave Brown excused himself so he could attempt a damage limitation exercise with his team, the others took a car from the pool and drove south. When they arrived, the hire car was sat in the same place but neither Emily nor Sophie were satisfied. Emily made a call and asked for the car to be checked, it could then be returned to the hire firm. They next went into the house.

The security system was quiet, showing no errors or alerts. Heather opened the office and booted her laptop, there was software installed that allowed her to access the CCTV archive. None of the cameras, including the reverse angle and once that looked straight down the road at the junction, showed much more than the other residents of the cul-de-sac and a few deliveries.

Heather next opened the safe; she went to pull the package out but Emily stopped her.

"Don't touch it, I have gloves here and an evidence bag, so it can go straight in there. Has anyone else handled it?"

"No, just me."

"Your prints are on file so we can eliminate those, then we can see who else has handled the document."

Emily called for a car to collect the document ready for testing, the driver who had ferried the trio was to remain at the house in case of evacuation. Sophie was called up so she would take the evidence bag downstairs, to await transport.

Heather's secure phone started to ring, the number showed it was Helen calling. Emily answered whilst Heather looked in the safe for the special key.

"Hi Helen."

"Emily? We have a problem, Anna just arrived here with a shotgun demanding Heather's address."

"Your office? Stand by, going secure."

"Yes, OK, now what the hell is she doing out?"

"Bailed last week, we found out an hour ago. There's been another attempt on Heather."

"Damn. Why wasn't I told?"

"We have a leak, Anna obviously knows Heather's new identity and we're trying to locate the mole. Apart from Dave Brown and Commander Ken Bond it's only us plus Heather and Sophie who are in the know. Is Anna still there?"

"No, I hit the alarm and had a unit from Stoke Newington here within a minute. They've tasered and arrested her, not sure where she'll be taken."

"I'll check that out."

"Should I come over?"

"Not yet, just in case you're tailed. We're missing one of Dave Brown's team who may be involved with Anna."

"Okay. It does look as if the address is secure?"

"Yes, maybe, for the time being. It looks though as if Sophie will be without a car for a few days."

"I have an idea that might help, perhaps Heather could take a week long intensive driving course?"

"That's an idea, to get her out of the firing range for a few days."

"She'll need some evasive training after she earns her standard licence."

"Quite. Can you arrange that?"

"I'll add it to the list."

"Okay, got to go."

"Bye."

Emily put the handset on the cradle, then reached for her mobile, dialling Commander Bond.

"Ken, Anna Greig has been arrested in Stoke Newington. Can you find out where she is and get her secured? Let's throw the Official Secrets Act at her, and don't let the same magistrate anywhere near her."

Next she called her team and passed on the same information, they had a lead on Jeremy Davis, the missing spook, and were now following it up.

"Heather, we need to take stock of this. We still don't know who's running the operation against you, against us, but we'll have another go at Anna later."

"This is just too surreal, Anna was entrusted to look after me, to protect me, but now she's flipped! What did I do wrong?"

She started to sob, that caused Sophie to check the office.

"Come on Heather, we don't know Anna's motivations, or very much at all right now."

"Sophie's right, Heather, it'll be a little while before we hear back from anyone so let's get some coffee organised?"

It was an hour before anything else was heard, in this case Commander Bond was calling from Paddington Green High Security Police Station. There had been a break-through involving the three males arrested at Elephant & Castle that morning.

It transpired that Anna had told them she was owed money by Heather and that they were to hold onto 'Heather' until Anna got to them. Unfortunately, she had turned up in the same cell-block as the three males so they knew they weren't about to get paid for their efforts.

The three had done a deal, they told the interviewing officers everything they knew, which wasn't much, dished the dirt on Anna and asked to be allowed to leave the country. They were all German citizens of Iranian parentage. Given the cost of a lengthy trial, the deal was agreed, they would be flown to Düsseldorf the following morning. They wouldn't get away unblemished, however, as the Germans would arrest them upon their return.

The doorway where the third male had been arrested was the entrance into a storeroom. It seems that Anna had been staying there, there was also evidence that Jeremy Davis had been there.

But what of Jeremy? Emily's team took several hours to locate him, he was slowly getting himself pickled in a pub in Islington. He was taken to Stoke Newington Police Station first before being moved to Westminster. He'd have to sober up before he could be interviewed.

"Emily, has Commander Bond said how they're doing with Anna?"

"No, but that's hardly surprising."

The phone rang, it was Helen again. Emily took the call.

"Any news?"

"Yes, disturbing news, Anna was searched and one of the officers has let me know they found a business card for Heather Young on Anna. Obviously the officer wouldn't know who Heather is but, seeing as I have the whole box of cards here, it could only have come from the printer. That means her business mobile is compromised and will have to be changed, so I'll need to reprint the cards."

"Which print shop did you use?"

"Given that we were short of time I used one on Church Street not far from my office, Pronto-something."

"I'll send someone there to have a look."

"Okay, I'll organise a new SIM card for Heather's phone."

"How did Anna find your office, you've never publicised it?"

"If she had the business card then she could check the address of who registered the domain for the website and email. That went down to me here, temporarily, I'll use something else next time."

"Sounds like a better plan."

"How's the investigation going?"

"No news on Anna, we have our potential ferret sobering up and three German-Iranians heading for Stansted in the morning."

"Not bad, I take it the three talked?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm done here for the day, I'll head for your location if you have no objections?"

"None at all, in fact you can relieve me so I can get to Paddington Green."

"Done, see you in thirty."

"Thirty? You kidding? More like forty-five."

"Nah, I'll use the blues 'n' twos."

"Naughty!"

"But nice."

Emily allowed herself a smile when she put the phone down, was this problem now contained? Perhaps it was too early to be certain but the signs were positive. She decided to lock the office and allow herself a break in the kitchen, Heather had been down there when the latest call had happened.

She found both Heather and Sophie were sat outside the kitchen door, enjoying the early afternoon sunshine. For mid-September is was still very mild, definitely late summer rather than early autumn. In place of coffee they now had a non-alcoholic fruit punch.

"That looks good."

"Get yourself a glass, I didn't think you'd make it down here. Did you lock the office?"

"Yes, and the news is that Helen is heading over to talk to you. Don't use your business phone, by the way, the number is compromised."

"Okay."

"You're taking this far too calmly Gail, err Heather."

"That's because no-one else is freaking out, although I detect that you're a little stressed?"

"You might be right, a late night, not enough sleep, an early start and a major operation. Oh, I should add the ultimate issue, insufficient coffee."

"The kettle's in there if you want to make one for yourself."

"So much for being a guest!"

***

"Now, Emily, Heather, Sophie, why was I kept out of the loop until this morning?"

Sophie decided to answer, "because we had no idea where the leak was, my training tells me to use one avenue of communication only until you have additional information."

Emily concurred, "I established a protocol with Sophie in the event that Heather was compromised, again. The protocol works best if the details are not widely known. You were not excluded as such, just not initially included."

"Okay, but it might have helped if someone had told me that Anna was loose."

"If you had known, would it have implied that she would turn up at your office with a shotgun? No, we only found out mid morning, and this operation had been running since yesterday evening."

"Okay, I just felt I might have been able to help if I had been kept in the loop."

"Fair comment, but we had to restrict information, you should have seen the look on Dave Brown's face when we told him he had a mole in his own department!"

"I can guess!"

"Anyway, I have to take myself over to Paddington Green, I'll call if I have anything."

There was a chorus of "Byes" then Sophie went ahead of Emily to check the street was clear, it was also a signal to Emily's driver to get the car ready.

Meanwhile, Helen suggested she and Heather went up to the office, she closed the door.

"Now, Heather, let's take stock. Anna and this mole know your current cover name, and presumably your legal name as well as the Abigail identity. What we don't know is how many outside of that pair have been passed the information."

"I take it you don't want to change my identity immediately?"

"That's right, it's a huge amount of work and I want to know it can be done without the risk of another leak, you had only been using this name since last Thursday."

"Quite, I was becoming attached to it."

"Well it's yours for a little longer. What we will have to change however is your mobile number and I'll register a new domain name for a website and email address, both for you and Sophie, or whoever your assistant is."

"It looks like I'll need a bodyguard for a while yet, doesn't it?"

"As it stands, yes. Now, it does seem that this address is safe, for now. Therefore I'm not considering relocating you but I have a suggestion."

"Go on."

"You had started driving lessons back at the house, how about you do an intensive course so you can drive yourself, if necessary?"

"Yes, but when?"

"It now seems that you don't have any work this week so why not soon? There's a course on the Isle of Wight starting on Thursday at a holiday park, with your driving examination on Monday. You can do the theory test online today or tomorrow."

"Sophie would have to come with me."

"Of course, and I'd arrange a house-sitter for here."

"Who?"

"Me probably, seeing as I already have keys and the codes."

"You get Sophie's room."

Helen ignored that remark. "So you like the idea?"

"Yes."

"Good, you're booked in for tomorrow lunchtime at the at the Yarmouth holiday camp on the Isle of Wight."

"Tomorrow?"

"I though it might be difficult to get there today."

"How we getting there without a car?"

"By train from here to Portsmouth, then over on the ferry. Sophie can hire a car over there."

"But why the Isle of Wight?"

"No-one would think to look for you there. It's a week long course with a test at the end, by the time you get back we'll have finished our inquiry into the leak and the damage caused."

"An inquiry?"

"Well, it hasn't been set up yet, but it will be."

"So maybe it's best I am out of the way, so to speak."

"Exactly. When you had those lessons at the house, were you given a pack to learn for the theory test?"

"Yes."

"I hope you did read it, as you need to get on that laptop and complete the online theory test."

"This is driving me mad."

"It gets better, Heather."

"How so?"

"When you have your driving licence I'll arrange a police advanced driving course, including high speed and evasion."

"I'm a ruddy accountant, not a motorway cop."

"You need to be able to protect yourself."

"So you keep saying. Anyway, there's one thing I need to arrange."

"What's that?"

"I want to talk to a shrink again, I think I'm a little paranoid."

"How come?"

"You know that feeling when everyone's after you? Well, for me, it's real."

***

"The Isle of Wight, tomorrow?"

"Yes, Sophie."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"That's no time at all to set up additional security or even run a few basic security checks on the driving instructor?"

"I think we're going for the principle that the fewer who know what we're doing is better than arranging heavy duty cover. Look how Cornwall was simple and quiet, very few knew where we were and we could move around without having to inform anyone in advance."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Okay, then we take advantage of the suggestion from Helen, she's the only one who knows the exact arrangements, and we enjoy a long weekend in the late summer sun."

"I'd best pack then."

"Right, I have to complete the theory test online so I best do that first. I'm lousy at stopping distances!"

***

They were at Redhill Station the following morning with return tickets to Portsmouth. Heather had been forced to be economic with her luggage, seeing how they had to drag their cases around. At least Helen had offered to drive them to Redhill Station before returning to the house.

The train was at 1030 and, fortunately, was direct to Portsmouth Harbour. Heather had thought about booking their ferry tickets in advance but Sophie had cautioned against this, quoting security concerns.

The train journey was uneventful, but Heather loved the Catamaran that was berthed next to Portsmouth Harbour Station as she'd been expecting an old rusty ferry. Sophie just shrugged, it wasn't anything to get excited about.

Their hire car was waiting at the ferry terminal in Ryde. After the usual formalities Sophie drove them out of the port and across the island. It was a pleasant day and they weren't in a hurry. They couldn't collect the keys for their chalet until 2pm and it was just coming up for one, the best idea right now was lunch.

They pulled into the carpark of The Wheatsheaf pub and spent an hour over lunch, taking advantage of the tourist leaflets that were available. Given that she was going to be driving in the morning, Heather decided not to have a drink although logic says it wouldn't have been a problem.

They pulled into the West Bay Club shortly before half past two and checked in, Heather had half expected a 1970s style holiday park but this was something different. Their accommodation was a small house with twin bedrooms, about 100m from the core facilities, including a gym and swimming pool.

They had finished emptying their bags and were drinking a coffee when Heather's phone rang.

"It's Helen, can you go secure?"

"Sure. Still there?"

"Right, firstly did you arrive okay?"

"Yes, although I didn't think that was a national security concern?"

"Well, you might have given away your location."

"True, so what's the real reason?"

"There's been some developments, the forgery examination on the bank document has revealed it's counterfeit, but quite a good one. Apart from yours, the only other distinguishable prints on it are Jeremy's. He is saying nothing however."

"What about Anna?"

"Her behaviour is really concerning everyone. She's being seen by a shrink later today."

"I wonder if she should have seen one before she was bailed?"

"Perhaps, anyway the magistrate who bailed her has gone missing."

"Curious."

"Yes, he also seems to have deposited a few thousand pounds in his bank account in the past week."

"Was he bought?"

"That's a working theory, we really want to interview her solicitor but that might declare our hand. In any case, all of the parties are having their phone and bank records examined."

"Good, I take it that I can't help given my connections?"

"No, and it's definitely a police matter, although Jeremy will have to face a Thames House security panel at some point."

"I don't envy him. Do we have any idea of his motivations?"

"No, but he might be persuaded to spill the beans on Anna's involvement in return for a lighter sentence?"

"Only if the trial judge is prepared to go along with it. Anyway, what's his charges?"

"At the moment they're going with 'Misconduct in Public Office' but that's likely to be replaced by an offence under the Forgery and Counterfeiting Act 1981 plus the Official Secrets Act and conspiracy to kidnap."

"Pretty hefty then?"

"Yes. Anyway, how's the accommodation?"

"It looks pretty good, still haven't checked the facilities though."

"Well, I won't call again unless something comes up."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

***

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around the Country Club and then into the town of Yarmouth, taking the coastal path. From there Heather and Sophie could see the shipping traffic heading for Southampton and Portsmouth, including several cruise liners.

"I'm just going to have to take a cruise one year."

"Sure Heather, but they're not cheap and you are kind of captive on board. Can you imagine the fun of checking the crew and passenger manifests against the criminal records database and the security service's records?"

"Would that be necessary?"

"Sure, especially as you wouldn't be able to take a weapon on board and mine would have to be locked away, going ashore would also be a problem."

"I hadn't thought about it like that."

"I guessed that. What time is your lesson tomorrow?"

"I have two, at nine and again at two. The morning one is an hour and the afternoon is two hours. The timings are the same on Friday but I don't know about the weekend."

"You'll be on your own, I could tail you but it would be rather obvious on these quiet roads."

"It would also distract me. Have you run any checks?"

"No, Helen couldn't give me the name of the instructor so I'll have to do that in the morning when he turns up."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Neither do I but it's all we have to work with. Come on, let's grab some cereal, milk and orange juice for tomorrow's breakfast in that shop then head back."

***

At some point during the previous evening, Heather had taken a decision to go swimming on Thursday morning. That meant it was 0700 when they arrived at the pool, it was a week or so since Heather's last swim, or structured exercise of any variety.

"I need to join a gym or health club."

"I'll check a few out."

"Okay, but it's not as if they're run by the Mafia?"

"You might be surprised."

Heather was a little tense when she headed for the shower, back at their apartment. Had she overdone it in the pool or was it stress? Whichever it was, the hot water helped. She was finally in the kitchenette by half past eight ready for a healthy breakfast.

"What's the deal with the instructor? Is he coming around here?"

"Helen said to meet him at the reception building."

"Good. Can you remember to put your phone on silent otherwise he might insist you turn it off."

"Yes boss."

"You've ten minutes so make yourself pretty then we're out of here."

The instructor's care was already parked up when they rounded the corner, just before nine. Sophie took photos of the registration plate and the sign-writing on the side. The driver's door opened as Heather approached, a middle-aged lady exited the car, holding the door open.

"Good morning, you're Heather I take it?"

"That's me."

"And you are?"

"I'm Sophie, I'm down here to keep Heather company for the next few days."

"Okay, I'm Julie and I'll be your instructor for the next few days. Have you driven before, Heather?"

"I had a few lessons but I wasn't comfortable with the instructors."

"All male?"

"Yes."

"You're not alone there, many women find they can't learn with a male instructor. Anyway, let's get going."

Heather sat and closed the door, fastening her seatbelt before starting the car. She adjusted the seat, mirror and made certain she was ready before asking the obvious question.

"Where to?"

"Take the right outside the gate and we'll head to Freshwater Bay and then follow the road to the south of the island."

"Okay."

The hour seemed to pass quickly, traffic was light outside of the towns but the usual hazards of mobility scooters, baby buggies and bus drivers made for some challenging moments. Julie was watching out for Heather's reactions but was not overly worried. She waited until they had returned to the country club before giving her verdict.

"I don't think we'll have a problem getting you ready for the test on Monday, Heather. You just need to be a little more assertive. I'll see you again at two."

Heather stepped out and a minute later Julie was on her way to her next appointment. First issue was the loo, second was a strong coffee. Sophie wasn't in the apartment when Heather arrived there and the place was otherwise still empty when the kettle boiled for her coffee. It was another few minutes before Sophie arrived.

"Oh, you're back."

"That, Sophie, ranks as today's number one obvious statement."

"You haven't asked where I've been."

"No, but since you're in running kit you've either been in the gym or hitting the tarmac."

"Okay, smart ass. What's your idea for the day?"

"I'm back on the road at two but I thought we could go into Ryde for a little shopping and lunch."

"Fine, I'll just take a shower."

Heather sat with her coffee but became aware of a buzzing sound, her phone was still on silent and sat in her bag.

"Hello?"

"This is an important message for anyone who has recently had an accident....."

Heather hit the red key, it didn't matter what the call was about, it just wasn't welcome. The phone rang again but this time Helen's name came up.

"Good morning, go secure?"

"How did the lesson go?"

"Julie was fine with me, she just said I had to be more assertive."

"Why was that?"

"I was taking my time at junctions, making sure there was plenty of time."

"I see, try that in London and you'll cause a tailback in seconds!"

"Very funny, what's the latest?"

"Anna's been sectioned and is undergoing extensive tests, she'll not be fit for trial any time soon."

"Oh. What about Jeremy?"

"He's still not talking but the search of his communications and financial records is proving very interesting."

"In what way?"

"There are links to groups, it would seem he's been selling information to anyone and everyone."

"I thought he'd only just arrived in Dave Brown's team?"

"Yes, but he'd worked at Thames House for two years in other departments, it seems he took some accountancy classes in order to make the transfer a few weeks ago."

"To target me?"

"That's one suggestion."

"What else?"

"We've found the magistrate."

"This doesn't sound good."

"No, he appears to have taken his own life, he did however leave a letter explaining how he was approached by Anna's solicitor at his golf club and offered the money. Why he took it, we might never know."

"Has the solicitor been interviewed?"

"No, Anna sacked him two days ago and he's not been seen since."

"Another one?"

"Hopefully we'll find him before anything happens."

"Yeah. Anyway, we're off to do some shopping and I have my second lesson this afternoon."

"Enjoy."

"Bye."

The rest of the day passed peacefully, although Heather did curse when she was caught up in the school traffic just after 3pm.

"No children then?"

"No, definitely not!"

"Never say never, you're not too old to start, my dear."

"Well, it's just ...."

"Oh, sorry."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 6 Conspiracy

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

"How did the test go?"

"Okay, I suppose."

"Come on Heather, did you pass?"

"Yes, Sophie, I passed!"

"Great, now you can chauffeur me around so I can have a drink!"

"That reminds me, what do we do about lunch?"

"We'll have a coffee and something on the catamaran on our way back to the mainland. Let's get moving so we're back indoors before it's dark."

They headed back to the car hire compound at the ferry terminal to hand the car back, then dragged their cases into the terminal building. A few minutes later they were boarding for the short ride across The Solent.

The train from Portsmouth Harbour seemed to take forever, stopping almost everywhere along the line, after an hour and a half then finally arrived at their destination. Fortunately Sophie had remembered to give Helen a phone call asking to meet them when the train arrived. They were currently at Redhill station loading the bags into Helen's car.

"Well done Heather."

"Thanks Helen, but it's really many thanks for arranging it."

"I figured that you should do it, but also needed to get away from all the hassle for a few days."

"Quite. Have you heard any more about how it's going?"

"No, but that's not unusual."

"How's it been here?"

"Fine and quiet, I've been able to catch up with some reports, don't forget I'll need one from you."

"Yes, boss."

Come on, let's get back to the house, I have prepared a meal for you, plus there's a present."

"A pressie?"

***

"Could someone please explain why I've been called to this security panel?"

"Miss Young, there have been several allegations concerning you."

"Like what?"

"We'll get to them?"

"When?"

"In good time. Now, I'd like to go back to Sunday 27th July."

"When?"

"That was the day you travelled to Clacton on Sea dressed as a female."

"What about it?"

"That you murdered David Jones and took his place, weaving this tale to suit your own needs."

"No! I really was David Jones, or Gail Jones, or ......"

Heather woke suddenly as her mobile was ringing on the bedside table. She answered it without putting on her glasses so had no idea who it was, nor what time it was.

"Miss Young?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"John Smith at Thames House. A security panel has been arranged, you're needed at ten o'clock."

Heather tried to ask a question but the call had already ended, Sophie must have already been awake as she put her head into Heather's room.

"What's up?"

"A call from the security manager at Thames House telling me I'm needed there at ten for a security panel. I have no idea what the time is right now and to be honest this scares me."

"It's half past seven, but what's the problem? Helen said there would be an investigation."

"It's just too.......I had a bad dream."

"Come on, get into the shower and I'll work out a travel plan."

On the floor was Heather's new personal laptop, supplied by Helen. Heather had spent several hours going through Amazon making purchases, after creating a personal gmail address. It had been well after midnight when she'd fallen asleep.

***

Sophie did not have a security pass for MI5's headquarters so that had to be arranged, plainly John Smith hadn't considered Heather's close protection officer. Whilst all the arrangements, including the lodging of two weapons, were being made Emily Keane arrived with Commander Bond.

"Good morning Heather."

"Hi Emily, Ken."

"Miss Young."

Heather looked around for Helen, but didn't see her. The assumption was that she'd already arrived and was elsewhere in the building.

Sophie now returned to the group with a visitor pass around her neck, it specified that she had to be accompanied at all times, even to the loo it seemed. It wasn't long before they were asked to go through the scanners so they could be shown the way to one of the meeting rooms. The doors of the room closed so that the room was soundproofed.

"Good morning, could I remind you that this meeting is marked Secret and is also a current police and terrorism investigation with court restrictions on the release of information. Now, for those who don't know me, I'm John Smith of the Security Service Security Department and I'm chairing this investigation. Could I ask you each to introduce yourselves."

Heather had met most of the assembled group before, even if she hadn't remembered their name from an earlier encounter. Although, where was Helen? Contrary to her fears the investigation took the form of pulling apart who knew what, how did they know and when did they know. This being spook central, the fourth question was whether they needed to know in the first place.

The time frame was from when Jeremy Davis had joined Dave Brown's team, or rather when he first applied to join. It seemed that he'd applied some five weeks earlier, at a time when Anna was still with Heather. He had passed his accountancy exams two years earlier but hadn't attempted to use these skills until, it would seem, he was prodded by Anna.

The question now turned to the Fourani accounts, which Jeremy had been handed while Heather and Sophie were in Cornwall. Why wasn't this queried? It appeared that Dave Brown would accept the blame for this and told the meeting that his retirement request had been accepted.

Now they looked at the elaborate plan to lure Heather to the Elephant & Castle the previous week. As Heather already knew, the documents were counterfeit, but a further set of prints had been found, identified as Mustafa Krappe of the Pronto Print outlet in Stoke Newington. Emily recognised this as the same print shop Helen had used for Heather's last-minute business cards. The proprietor had spent several days trying to generate a believable explanation.

Slowly the background to Jeremy's deceit and treachery was being laid out, but what of Anna? One thing was clear, the key to this was probably in the Fourani accounts. What had materialised was that the copy of the accounts Jeremy had accessed had been partly corrupted. Heather still had her original files in her own archive, John Smiths request, or more correctly a barely polite instruction, was for Heather to get back into those accounts and dig.

The meeting broke up just after midday, Heather was about to follow Sophie and Emily out of the room when John Smith asked to talk to her privately.

"Heather, we're taking Helen Bell off as your case officer."

"Why?"

"She's being moved onto another case where she will have to devote herself, without distractions."

"I've enjoyed working with her."

"I don't doubt it. From now on, you'll work with the new head of the finance team, Jennifer Osborne."

"I don't think I've met her?"

"Come back here on Friday at eleven, by then we'll have the new arrangements in place."

"Okay."

"Could you conduct a review of the Fourani accounts and bring that in on Friday as well please."

"Sure."

"That's great, bye."

"Bye."

Heather ran out of the room to catch up with the others.

"What's up, Heather?"

"Can't say, not here not now."

A few minutes later they were all outside on the steps, Emily and Commander Bond were heading back to New Scotland Yard, whereas Heather and Sophie wanted Pimlico tube station.

"Lunch anyone? On me?"

All eyes turned to Commander Bond, a quick assessment was made of where to go plus three pairs of female eyes scanned his ring finger, there was a white mark. The verdicts followed, they would eat at The Tate (it was across the road) and he was recently divorced.

Ken Bond was further interrogated but he would only admit to the classic failed police relationship, he couldn't guarantee his hours or attendance at family social gatherings as his work took precedence.

Back in Redhill several hours later, Heather fired up the secure phone and called Helen. The automated message said that the line was no longer in use. It had only been the previous day that Helen had met her and Sophie at the station after house-sitting for 5 days. What was going on? A call to Emily yielded no further information, Helen's landline and secure mobile were both disconnected.

Heather did not have the enthusiasm to start work, again, on the dreaded accounts but did have another set of expenses claims to complete, as well as a need to write up the past week. She completed them then found the email address of Jennifer Osborne, so sent the relevant files. The reply was swift:

From: Jennifer Osborne
To: Heather Young
Subject: Re: Expenses

Thanks for these Heather, looking forward to seeing you on Friday, plus meeting Sophie again.

Jennifer

So Jennifer knew Sophie? Curious. Heather couldn't ask Sophie as she was out on a run as well as checking out some health clubs near to the house. By the time Sophie returned, Heather was cooking dinner and the issue had slipped her mind.

***

On Wednesday morning the pair were in the kitchen having a leisurely breakfast when the security system warned them of activity out front. A minibus had parked and several people were now walking towards the front door. Unfortunately the system was having trouble identifying the number plate of the minibus as it appeared to be a rental vehicle. The doorbell sounded.

Sophie did not like this one little bit.

A face appeared on the security monitor in the kitchen, followed by an ID card. It was now that Heather recognised the man as Jimmy Ruddle, a member of the security team she'd last seen at the flat in Amersham.

"Sophie, it's okay, they're the sweep team."

Sophie holstered her weapon and took a closer look at the monitor, pushing an intercom button.

"Hello, identify yourselves?"

"Miss Young? Miss Grieve? We're the Thames House sweeps. We've been asked to conduct a full security audit."

Heather started for the door but Sophie pushed past and opened it on the chain to get a closer look at the ID card and it's owner. Finally she was satisfied and allowed everyone to enter.

"Hello again Miss Young, Miss Grieve."

"Hello Jimmy, it's Heather and Sophie. Now, what's this all about?"

"I wasn't given the reason but I received an instruction yesterday afternoon to be here this morning, weren't you told?"

"No."

"Well, if you don't mind we need to get started, that way we can perhaps be out of here by lunchtime."

"We need to go shopping, will you be okay?"

"Don't worry, so long as there's enough milk for the tea and coffee, you do have some biscuits as well, don't you?"

"I'm sure you'll find everything you need, come on Sophie, let's get out of here."

Sophie now recognised several more faces from the one time she went to the flat in Amersham so relaxed, remaining in the house to supervise wasn't strictly necessary and she couldn't cover everyone. As they were currently without transport the pair walked into town, first visiting a health club that Sophie had identified the previous afternoon.

"Hello ladies, how can I help?"

"I'm looking for a club I can use when I'm free."

"Okay, apart from the fully equipped gym we offer Zumba, pilates, dance, and many other structured classes. There is a timetable but most classes are available every day and at varying times. You can pay monthly or on a pay-as-you-go basis."

"Do you think we could have a look around?"

"I'm afraid no-one is available at the moment."

"Oh, do you have a pool?"

"I'm afraid not. Are you new to the area?"

"Yes." Heather look hesitantly at Sophie as she said this, unsure if it was wise. The receptionist's smile started to evaporate.

"The nearest pool is a mile from here. Why don't you take this leaflet and check our website for further information? We're not the only club."

The girls walked out of the club reception and back into the humdrum of the Belfry shopping centre.

"I get the feeling she wasn't keen on me, Sophie?"

"Likewise, it might be that she thought we were an item because of that look you gave me."

"So you're suggesting she didn't approve of something that wasn't even there?"

"Something like that."

"We'll search for that pool when we arrive home, maybe it has a gym as well?"

"Fair enough, I'm not happy feeling exposed like this."

"Then you should have put trousers on!"

The expedition continued, up and down the High Street, in and out of the two shopping centres. Eventually they did reach the large supermarket and set about restocking the fridge and freezer, that day's lunch being one concern.

Weighed down with far too many bags Sophie insisted they took a cab back to the house. The driver noticed the minibus when he pulled up at the end of Caxton Rise.

"If there's a party, am I invited?"

Sophie answered, "'fraid not, they're building our summer house."

"It's September."

"For next spring."

"Oh. That'll be six quid please."

Heather wasn't impressed by the fare, it shouldn't have been more than five pounds considering the distance. The driver did, however, help carry the bags to the door, possibly expecting a tip. Heather tried her key, it wouldn't turn, Sophie took her own keys out but suffered the same embarrassment. Suddenly the door swung open.

"Hello ladies, you'd best come in."

"I hope so since we live here!"

Once inside, it was clear that Sophie was wound up. "We were exposed out there! What have you been doing?"

"All the locks have been changed, and a few other things. You'd best see Jimmy, he's through there."

He pointed at the kitchen, which was exactly where Heather and Sophie wanted to go. Jimmy was sat at the kitchen table with sheets of paper in front of him. The girls, timing their approach accurately, put all the bags on the table with a single thump.

"Hey! What did you do that for?"

"We couldn't get back into the house, why did that happen, what if you had left?"

"I would have called you, but you didn't leave your number."

"The security department have it."

"Fair enough, anyway if you can clear the table I'll explain what we've done."

Jimmy certainly explained what his team had done, but not necessarily why. As they now knew, or could guess, all the locks had been changed. This included window locks as well as the two exterior doors, a lock and alarm had been fitted to the shed as well. All of the alarm codes had been changed, as well as the safe combination and her work laptop's password, apparently someone was still working on it.

"What about my new, personal, laptop?"

"We have to take it with us, you can collect it later in the week."

"It's already Wednesday, I'm in London on Friday morning, maybe then?"

"We should be done by then."

"So, what's this all about?"

"I'm sorry but I was just given this as a job that needed doing. I do have one other thing for you, a replacement SIM card."

"For my secure mobile?"

"No, it's for your other mobile. You haven't allowed anyone access to your official phone, have you?"

"No, I did leave it here when we had that security alert last week, but there were no alarm activations here in the meantime."

"Even so, I'd best take it. Collect it on Friday."

"Great, what about my secure landline in the office?"

"There's a replacement key in your safe, but we've had to remove most of the contents for checking."

"I get the feeling that something's going on, why am I being pushed around like this?"

Sophie was joining the dots, and this was causing her worry. Unfortunately there was nowhere she and Heather could talk inside without being overheard, outside carried even greater risk. Ever the pragmatist, she suggested lunch.

"I have a couple of pizzas, how about I put some in the oven?"

"There's six of us, including two veggies."

"Not a problem."

The shopping had included some clothes, which Heather finally took up to her room. On her knees next to Heather's bed was a technician.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi Miss Young. I've been told to fit a network access point in here, in fact there's two; this one and one by your dresser."

"What about the wifi?"

"That's been removed, you have a new router and encryptor in one package, much neater."

"But no wifi?"

"That's right. I've fitted two ports in Miss Grieve's room too, there's also a few being installed downstairs, there's a new cabinet in your office containing the sixteen port switch and the router/encryptor. The key for that is in your safe."

"So you've removed a standard wifi router and replaced with with even more kit?"

"Much more secure, and faster too, the cables are gigabit rated."

"And I'm now tied to a few locations rather than being able to connect anywhere indoors or even in the garden?"

"Sorry, instructions."

Once everyone started heading into the kitchen for lunch, Heather took the opportunity to go into her office as a technician left it and shut the door behind her. Everything was locked in the safe, but the combination had been changed. She exited the room and closed the door, then tested her code - it failed. So much for calling Jennifer or John Smith.

"Look, Heather, why don't you and Sophie go out for a few hours? We'll be here until four at this rate. I want to do a handover and test of all the new security measures in one hit, not piecemeal."

"I'm sorry Jimmy but I don't want to leave. As you can guess, I'm not happy right now."

In the end, Heather grabbed a book from her room, asked the security team if they wanted to sweep it for bugs, then walked into the garden and sat on one of the patio chairs. Sophie clearly couldn't do much better and joined her a few minutes later.

Finally, the team started gathering up their tools and began loading the minibus. That left Jimmy Ruddle with Heather and Sophie.

"Look, I was given this as a last minute job and even I was surprised how many I would need to do this today, especially as it's only been two weeks since we were last here."

"Jimmy, I accept that's all you can say but for me this is just weird."

"Sure. The best I can suggest is that you phone your manager."

"I tried but no-one has given me my safe combination, alarm codes, new keys ....."

Heather decided she wasn't in a good enough mood to make a friendly call to Jennifer, after all you don't want to fall out with your boss the first time you speak to her, do you? In amongst their shopping was a bottle of red and the ingredients for something simple. They both mucked in but neither had much of an appetite, even the wine ended up with a stopper in the bottle.

They headed for their rooms soon after eight, knackered.

Armed with the new codes, Heather went into her office on Thursday morning soon after seven. She opened the safe at second attempt and found her plastic key for the secure phone, which she inserted. She also fired up her laptop and made certain it was behaving properly. An email timed five pm on Tuesday arrived from John Smith:

From: John Smith
To: Heather Young
cc: Jennifer Osborne
Subject: Audit

Heather,

Please be advised that I have requested a security audit of your home address as a precaution.

Regards, John

Great, she'd only checked her emails once when they returned from Thames House on Tuesday and that was before 4.30, she should have checked again; Heather kicked herself. A precaution against what, exactly? None of her other emails were relevant, or even vaguely interesting.

Heather tried Dave Brown's old number but that was now diverted to an answerphone in the security department, checking Jennifer Osborne's entry in the staff directory she found a phone number, so dialled it. There was no answer before breakfast, nor after breakfast.

She decided to make sure she still had access to the Thames House servers so checked her personal files, noting that her copy of the Fourani accounts was still there. Something was bugging her, she opened the property index spreadsheet that she'd built several weeks earlier then did a Google search for the Heather Young website Helen had arranged. She next used an internet tool to lookup the domain name, this gave her Helen's office address. She finally cross-referenced the office address against her Fourani index.

There was a match.

"Sophie, I really don't know what to think or who to trust now."

"Look, it might not be anything, many people don't know who actually owns their building as much of the admin is done through agencies and third parties."

"Yes, but ..."

"Yes, but nothing. You have a single hit but no explanation for it and no verification. More worrying is the sudden need for an audit that coincides with Helen's removal from the case."

"Sure, but no-one's mentioned that we need to move or that I need a change of identity again? Come to think of it, you'd probably need a new identity too as you are a link to me."

"Great. Anyway, we haven't been told to evacuate. There's probably a good explanation for this."

"I hope your confidence is valid? Do we call Emily?"

"No point, this is an internal Security Service matter at the moment."

"Err, I had an email from Jennifer on Tuesday and she said she knew you."

"I don't think so."

"Come up to the office and I'll show you the email."

Sophie read the email a couple of times. "Well, that doesn't help me. I still don't know who Jennifer Osborne is."

"We have a meeting with her tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll have loads of questions."

"Look, Sophie, I have a ton of things I need to do today, including going through these accounts again. I'm looking for a needle in a haystack and it won't be fun, how about you find that swimming pool, maybe we can go there later?"

"Sure, so long as you're not going out and don't open the door to strangers."

Sophie backed out of the office door quickly enough to miss the projectile.

There were no new important emails so Heather went back to the accountancy files she'd first created several years earlier. She decided that simply trudging through the spreadsheets again was time-wasting and unlikely to reap too many rewards. Taking a more analytical approach, she opened the folder containing the copy of the files that Jeremy had used, which included several corrupted files.

Heather now identified the corrupted files by comparing file sizes and moved those to a separate folder. The next issue was to identify what had been changed, perhaps to obscure a set of transactions, a person or a building?

Some of the changes and deletions appeared to be collateral, serving no useful purpose, but one set of payments did leap out:

01/04/09 David Jones Accountancy £1500
01/04/10 David Jones Accountancy £1550
01/04/11 David Jones Accountancy £1600
01/04/12 David Jones Accountancy £1650
01/04/13 David Jones Accountancy £1700
01/04/14 David Jones Accountancy £1750

However in the corrupted data this had become:

01/04/09 David Jones Accountancy £15000
01/04/10 David Jones Accountancy £15500
01/04/11 David Jones Accountancy £16000
01/04/12 David Jones Accountancy £16500
01/04/13 David Jones Accountancy £17000
01/04/14 David Jones Accountancy £17500

What was going on? She now searched for another simple recurring payment, choosing the annual renewal of Hamiz Fourani's business website. The sums here had also been crudely artificially inflated by a factor of ten. There had to be similar increases elsewhere but she first had a better idea.

Going off at a tangent, Heather checked the Fourani business website, it was still active as it was renewed in May of each year, so she did a little investigation of the domain. The registered address of the domain surprised her, but the hosting location was even weirder.

It was fair to assume that if some payments had been pushed up, some other payments were now much reduced or even missing from the finance team's copy of the data. That search was done using a tool and yielded some seemingly random entries, although this was likely designed to obscure the real target.

When she did find it she was startled, shocked, and had no idea what to do next.

Heather now formulated a plan. She pulled her weapon from the safe and made certain there was a full clip in it. Next she put the plastic key in her secure phone and called John Smith.

"Yes Heather?"

"I have heavy duty information and I'm not safe."

"Where's DS Grieve?"

"Out of the house at the moment but I'm not even certain I can trust her."

"How serious are you?"

"Very, I have found things in the files that frighten me, I have names."

"Right, put together an overnight bag, a car will be with you as soon as possible."

"How will I know it's a safe car?"

"You will know the driver."

"Okay. Don't forget I don't have my mobile at the moment."

"Understood."

The line went dead. Heather printed the relevant pages then shut down her computer and disconnected it, stowing it into the laptop bag. The secure phone was disabled and the safe locked up, she exited the office and made certain that was secure.

Now she put an overnight bag together, hedging her bets by packing for three nights. She remembered her pills, a small cosmetic kit and smellies and was wondering what she'd forgotten when there was a toot from outside. She took both bags downstairs and checked the monitor as a familiar face walked towards the front door.

"Jenny!"

"Come on Heather, make sure you set the alarm."

Heather was expecting to be taken to Thames House but instead the car turned south towards East Grinstead, pulling into the carpark of an industrial unit thirty minutes after they'd set off.

"Grab your bags and come in."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 7 House Of Cards

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

The sign said 'Thames Avionics', Heather followed Jenny in through the reception and swiped a pass by an inner door. Another door led into a comfortable sitting area, a very familiar face was waiting there.

"Helen? What's going on? Have I been stitched up?!"

"Calm down Heather."

"No! What the hell is going on?"

"Gail! All will be explained, just sit down."

The use of her former, legal, name certainly achieved the objective of grabbing Heather's attention. No-one was making any physical threats against her, or even verbal threats. She sat, holding her handbag close.

"Okay, start talking. Firstly, Jenny, what's your role?"

"I'm your new case officer and boss."

"Jennifer Osborne?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so, Helen, what's your position, I thought you'd been sacked or even eliminated?"

"Far from it, but I had to disappear leaving a nasty whiff so certain folks wouldn't dig deep. My guessing is that you did indeed dig."

"Yes Helen, and I didn't like what I saw."

"It was left there to be seen."

"Oh."

"Look, we have a hell of alot to dissect, did you bring your laptop?"

"Obviously. Look, who's going to tell me what is really going on?"

Jenny answered, "the short version is that the Fourani investigation has been used to identify rogue elements in the Establishment, police and security services as well as the terrorists you found."

"So I've been played along for someone else's pet project?"

"That's not strictly true, my guess is that you've come up with the goods."

"Maybe, but I still don't trust you."

"We'll deal with the trust first. Helen, turn on the telly."

The TV turned out to be a monitor, split screen with Emily Keane and Dave Brown in separate offices. They must have been listening.

"Hi Heather."

"Hello, err, Emily, Dave. Now I'm really confused."

Emily spoke, "Heather this has been a much bigger operation than you could ever imagine, we've been able to identify people who were paid off by Fourani, or who profited from it. Dirty cash has been seized and rogue elements neutralised."

"So where have I fitted into this?"

"You knew the Fourani data better than anyone, when Hamiz was killed certain people wanted that data for themselves, whether simply to destroy all trace of it or to extract enough information to blackmail and target others. You went on the run with that data and with the knowledge to make sense of it. No-one else had the understanding of the data that you had. The operation, however, had to simply look as if it was a exercise to find drugs and arms in order to bring out the real targets."

"I'm with you so far."

"As both the Met Police and the Security Service were involved, plus your almost unique circumstances, it meant that our operation generated many interested parties. Every time there was a major success against the Fourani empire, questions were asked and limited information about the operation was released. 'Teasers' if you wish."

"So you used the operation, and me, as the honey pot."

"In a way, yes. We knew who the main targets were but needed the evidence, physical and circumstantial."

"So why wasn't I told?"

"Your innocence was key to selling this operation in order to drag those rogue elements into the open. That's why we placed such an important emphasis on your personal safety."

"But some of those rogue elements couldn't have been in the original plan?"

"True, we picked up a few extra during the past few weeks and unfortunately they did get closer to you than we planned."

"Thanks."

"We can only do so much. Dave?"

"Thanks Emily. Heather, I can only confirm what Emily just said, this operation has grown remarkably; we're on the cusp of taking out some key players who think they're untouchable. I can understand if you're not comfortable but you remain at risk until we can deal with the threats, whether or not you participate."

"So I can either continue to help and have your protection or constantly look over my shoulder?"

"That's a bit of an exaggeration."

"But not by much I fear."

"Thanks Emily, Dave, we'll let you know how this goes." Jenny waved at Helen to turn off the screen.

Heather couldn't see any cameras, but could assume that Emily Keane and Dave Brown could see her, just what was this location used for? She decided to play along, but first she had more questions.

"Jenny, I thought you'd take another house after the terrorists attacked the one in Hertfordshire?"

"My stint as a housekeeper was almost up so I went for the newly vacant position in the Finance Team."

"What about Dave?"

"He was coming up to retirement anyway but was offered a role as a rat catcher a seeker of new talent for the last few months before he hands in his pass. Again, it muddies the waters for anyone who's on the inside, having the lead officer removed for making mistakes, especially if the announcement is in front of one of the targets."

"Okay, Helen, what's your story?"

"As I said, I had to slip away, it would have been a few days earlier but I stupidly offered to house-sit for you."

"That laptop you left me has been taken away."

"I'm not surprised, it was laden with nasties."

"Oh."

"Look, my name isn't really Helen Bell, it never was. I'm pretending to be a bent police civilian from Stoke Newington who was the fixer for Hamiz Fourani. She bought co-operation and services with Fourani's money, I was thus able to make certain people think I was playing you along."

"Great, so I'm a pawn."

"No, virtually the entire criminal enterprise was taken out in the first tranche of folk we took out, the rogue ones who remained were in the Establishment, or senior police and other enforcement officers who were our real targets. Your laptop was delivered to me with instructions just to give it to you. It was the last act before I had to be discredited."

"What will you do when this is over?"

"I'll revert to my legal identity, or get a new one, and go do something else."

"What does Sophie know?"

"Strictly she's Emily's responsibility but Sophie was briefed on the broader limits of the operation."

"So she knew more than me?"

"She didn't know the operational details, just what the limits were and that there was a high risk that the operation could be taken out from above. She was there to protect the operation as well as you."

"So, who's going to tell her that I'm here?"

"Emily will."

***

Heather started laying out the evidence she'd found, the first time she'd gone through the accounts she hadn't known who K. Bond was, but now knew that Commander Kenneth Bond was on the Fourani payroll as a consultant, to the tune of £50,000 a year. It hadn't gone into his personal account either but Heather identified a separate account in Geneva.

She also found entries for A. Greig in the data, but again hadn't known Anna's surname until recently. Anna's role was undefined. Jeremy was also in there, as a consultant. It was little surprise when a clutch of senior police officers from The Met and Essex forces were located, just how many police officers had Fourani paid off?

Jenny had a list of names she wanted to check against the data, some were a hit others not, but often aliases were referenced in the accounts and not the true names. The biggest catch, however, was a serving member of parliament.

"Shit!"

The worst part about this particular politician was that he was the current Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee, the same person who had insisted that Heather, as Abigail, was issued a firearm. He had plainly had been fully briefed on her part in the operation.

A few of the names were ambiguous enough that it would be difficult to say aye or nay to whether this was indeed the same person, but mis-identification of a double-barrelled name was pretty rare, especially if it was printed as 'The Right Honourable Sir Charles Worthington-Hayes' in the accounts. In this case, the 'Right Honourable' tag would mean he was also a member of the Queen's Privy Council, a coup indeed!

Perhaps he would be retiring soon to 'spend more time with his family'?
David's alive!

Heather by now was almost completely satisfied that this was not a complex setup. By two in the afternoon she had generated a sizeable list of names, mostly verified, which Jenny was compiling into her own spreadsheet.

"That's enough for now, I'm hungry." Heather put her laptop down.

"I'd forgotten about lunch, any ideas Helen?"

"I have some sandwiches made up, come on through."

They left Heather's laptop, albeit now locked, in the lounge area and moved further into the industrial unit. What surprised Heather was that it was built much like an apartment, just without windows. There was some natural light through ceiling panes however, giving a welcome warmth to the light in the late summer afternoon. Other doorways from this dining & cooking central area seemingly led to bedrooms and, most urgently, a bathroom.

"Back in a minute!" panted Heather as she ran for the loo.

When she returned, her laptop was now on a wooden table, she also now noticed the device in a corner which it appeared that Jenny, using her own netbook, had been printing the results of her own enquiries.

Helen carried a pile of sandwiches and bottles of water over, giving everyone a chance to take sustenance before any work-like activity continued. As it was, Heather went back to her enquiries before anyone else.

The next question came soon after. "So, what is this place?"

"It's a sort of Bed & Breakfast where high level security is less important, the usual guests aren't likely to attempt to run off, in fact you can leave if you want. You did know we're only a few miles from Gatwick Airport?"

"Who owns it?"

"Technically it's a private company, Thames Avionics, but the firm has very little actual trade."

"Be honest, what's the plan, Helen? Do I stay here for six weeks whilst you round up all these names?"

"No, all I suggest if that you stay here until tomorrow lunchtime, by which time a series of search warrants will have been executed. Once a few key personnel are taken out the whole house of cards will collapse."

"What's going on out there in the real world at the moment, then?"

Jenny answered that. "As you know, Helen has been discredited and is now out of sight as far as most people are concerned, Dave Brown is taking early retirement and the finance team is seemingly headless as my name is unknown, I haven't actually been to my desk yet. Unsurprisingly Commander Bond is currently trying to wind up the Met's investigation because of, how he wonderfully puts it, 'the utter farce that's going on'."

"Is Emily allowing him to do that?"

"He's senior to her so she'll play along, but the Assistant Commissioner knows the full story here and is employing delaying tactics, he's said he can't meet with Commander Bond until tomorrow noon."

"Can I guess that Commander Bond will be arrested at that time?"

"You can guess, I couldn't possibly say!"

That generated laughter and smiles, Heather had now completely relaxed but wasn't prepared to accept absolutely everything at face value, not yet at least. Was this another Russian doll?

"What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I'll explain but I'm not sure you'll like it?"

"Try me."

"Once the key players have been rounded up, we'll hold a press conference at New Scotland Yard to disclose the scope of the operation. I want you there."

"I don't like it, you definitely weren't wrong there."

"Think about this, we'll present Heather Young to the public and explain that you were the key forensic accountant responsible for taking down one of the biggest criminal and terrorist networks in recent years."

"I still don't like the implications, what happens afterwards?"

"There will be a few requests for chat shows and the serious news programs, of course, as well as newspaper interviews."

"Now you're winding me up! I won't co-operate."

"No, anyone who is still out there will no doubt want to get at you, but you'll be a national figure, Heather's photo will be everywhere for a few weeks."

"I'll be the criminal's target number one!"

"Maybe, but anyone who wants to have a go at you would risk exposure, you will plainly have some very obvious protection and you'll make it clear to the press that you're not frightened."

"Just assuming I don't laugh at you and walk out of here right now, what's in it for me?"

"In two or so weeks, we’ll book you into a clinic for some facial remodelling, implants and the other surgery, if you want it."

"Now I know you're leading me on - that is absolute hogwash."

"Okay, I was stretching the timescale slightly. The reassignment surgery would still be ten months away, give or take, but a little facial surgery and some real boobs? That can be done sooner."

"What about my name, isn't 'Heather Young' compromised?"

"Not really," replied Helen, "Jeremy and Anna both knew the name but no other details, do you know how many 'Heather Youngs there are in the Greater London area?"

"No, but then the house isn't even in Greater London, it's in Surrey."

"Quite. Now, how about a cottage in Cornwall? You'd be Gail Jones down there."

"Are you talking about me being paid off?"

"Not quite, but you would be compensated by the Met Police and Security Service for your assistance in the investigation. The remains of any money I had for you is currently in your Gail Jones accounts, where as your security service pay is in your Heather Young current account.

"So a dual life? This is far too complicated, why can't I stay where I am, keep the name, avoid the press and kill off Gail?"

"What if Gail gives the interviews, perhaps only the newspapers? That would mean to could deal with David's disappearance, we would write the story and offer it to the agencies so there's no risk. Gail will insist she wants privacy."

"So I stay as Heather, I might as well keep that house in Redhill for when I'm needed in London and take a cottage in Cornwall?"

"You would have to pay for the cottage yourself, but we'd make sure you had all the necessary communications."

"What about protection?"

"If the risk goes, so does Sophie, but you are on the pill aren't you!"

That ended the serious discussion for the moment. Heather was now looking further into her future than she had done for several weeks, and it didn't seem like she was about to be cut loose by the Security Service either, judging by Jenny's words.

There was a bing-bong sound, causing Helen to head out towards the reception area. She returned a minute later with someone in tow.

"I though I told you not to leave the house?!"

"I love you too Sophie!"

"Seriously, what the hell have you got into? Emily wouldn't tell me much more than the postcode of this place let alone why you're here."

"I only found out a few things myself. By the way, you do know Jennifer after all."

"Hi Jenny. I guess Helen's kosher?"

"Yes, Sophie, she's okay. Did you bring an overnight bag as I requested?"

"Yes it's outside, I guess there's have a plan, I want to go over it before I agree that you can do it."

"You haven't heard what it is yet?"

"No, and you haven't offered me a tea or coffee either."

"Anyway, how did you get here?"

"I was fed up being without a car so I hired one whilst I was out this morning. I was at the Redhill swimming pool when Emily rang me."

Whilst Sophie collected her bag from the hire car, Heather went back to searching the accounts for specific names, or the names of companies owned by Jenny's targets. By seven however they were finally finished. The last of the details had been emailed to Emily's office, ready for search warrants, although some would unfortunately have to be sought first thing on Friday morning. A press conference was arranged for one o'clock the following day with the major arrests happening between seven and nine.

Just as Heather, and Sophie, were wondering about food, Helen came in through the door laden with bags. "Chinese, I hope you like it!"

***

"And in conclusion I'd like to thank everyone involved in this extensive investigation, especially Detective Inspector Keane and the many officers from other government departments who I can't name . Given that this is an ongoing investigation and legal action is pending, I'm afraid I can't take questions. Thank you."

The Assistant Commissioner and DI Emily Keane left the stage whilst journalists shouted questions, questions that were rather pointless.

An hour later the headline in the London Evening Standard changed to:

 

Met Police & MI5 Hit With Major Corruption Investigation
 

A series of statements by unattributed sources covered some of the background, although David Jones was eventually named as having provided immensely important assistance. This much was not new information for the criminal fraternity so was considered a safe matter to include. It also scotched any rumours that David was dead, but did nothing to help anyone locate the male accountant.

For Emily her work was almost complete. A separate department in the Metropolitan Police's New Scotland Yard, would take over the corruption operation and work eventually towards prosecutions. The internal corruption sections of several other police forces, surprised that they had been kept in the dark, now swung into gear by suspending their dodgy coppers.

During that morning, before the press conference, a large number of arrests were carried out across South East England. One of the most awkward was that of the Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee. Due to the legal status of Parliament the arrest could not take place there, the only solution was to arrest him before he reached his office. As it was, his driver was provided by the Met Police, but there was no way the driver could be briefed in advance as there was a small risk that operational security would be breached. The solution that evolved was to stop the vehicle on Westminster Bridge using two marked Police vehicles in a pincer movement.

It was pure co-incidence that several TV news crews were nearby at the time.

Commander Ken Bond plainly had cold feet well before his midday appointment with the Assistant Commissioner and, very soon after arriving at New Scotland Yard, was seen heading back out of the main door towards St James underground station. Unfortunately for him this had been anticipated and he was detained in the tube station's ticket hall, the only downside to this being that the ACC didn't get to make the arrest personally.

***

Heather and Sophie were back, alone, at the house in Redhill that afternoon. Jenny was finally taking charge of her team and Helen was keeping her head below a virtual parapet.

"Now, Sophie, it's been suggested we made ourselves scarce for a while."

"What do you fancy?"

"Cyprus?"

"Too many Russians."

"Eh?"

"Trust me on that."

"Okay, the Canaries or maybe Mallorca?"

"Too many Brits in the criminal fraternity."

"Malta?"

"Libyans."

"So which island would you suggest?"

"I reckon we can survive a week or two on the Scilly Isles. We'll take the A303 and A30 down to Newquay in Cornwall and fly from the airport there. I understand St Mary's is sunny right now, one advantage is that it's still in England, plus the island's chief copper, Sgt Taylor, is an old friend."

"Let's start packing!"

***

It felt strange heading into Central London on this Friday morning by herself but Heather knew this had to be done. She was on her way to Thames House, the home of MI5, for a meeting with her line manager Jennifer Osborne. For once the trains were running well and she was slightly ahead of schedule.

Security concerns for Heather had been reduced now that the major corruption operation had taken out all of the main players, at least those who were in the country. The Germans had picked up a few of their own and a couple of ours, proving that international liaison works.

The security review that had followed had meant today was the last day Sophie was allocated as Heather's Close Protection Officer. In practice, however, Sophie had her own meeting at New Scotland Yard today so they had agreed that Heather would go to Thames House on her own.

Autumn had truly arrived in the capital with leaves on the ground as Heather walked along The Victoria Embankment, what a change from their ten days in St Marys on the Scilly Isles followed by a few days in Cornwall before the long drive back to Redhill.

Heather walked up the steps at the front of Spook Central and pushed the outer doors open. She first had the problem of dropping off her weapon before going through the airlock gate to enter the building proper. Jenny was hosting this weekly meeting in the Financial Investigations section, but first there were some introductions.

"Everyone, for those who didn't know her before, this is Heather who helped crack the corruption case a few weeks ago."

There were a few "hello" and "well done" comments but one or two of the staff stayed silent.

"Heather, you've met David, Julie and Fiona before but Andy, Will and Val have joined us in the last few weeks."

"Hi everyone. I don't know what Jenny has in store for me yet but it looks like I'll be here most Fridays to liaise on whatever projects I've been given."

"Right, Heather, let's go and have a chat in my room."

Coffee was delivered before the door sealed, making certain their conversation was private. Heather pulled a few sheets out of a case and laid them on the desk.

"We'll come to those later, how was the break?"

"It was great, St Marys is a lovely island and Sophie had a few friends there. It was relaxing but I did find myself at a loose end, hence walking around whilst Sophie had a beer with Sgt Taylor. That proved to be useful."

"It was an interesting find. Anyway, where's this cottage?"

"Oh, it's lovely. It's in Redruth, near the North Coast. We get the keys in a week's time and BT are installing the fibre that week."

"Sounds good, but what's the arrangement with Sophie?"

"She's sort of resigning from the Met this morning and becoming a security consultant but will keep her rank and weapon as a reserve officer."

"How did she manage that?"

"It appears the Assistant Commissioner was under pressure to slim the unit down, as with all of the Met Police departments, but didn't want to lose skills permanently so he created a group of Specials who would only be needed for major ops so were free to work for themselves any other time."

"Rather like the Reserve scheme for the Armed Forces. Nice way around the problem of skills and experience being drained away, presumably she'll do training as well?"

"Yes, both top-up training for herself and weapons re-qualification plus helping with new recruits."

"What about the other times?"

"She'll be with me, employed by me as an assistant, whether it's in Redhill or Redruth."

They paused to drink their coffee, Heather nibbled a Hob Nob that had been provided.

"So, tell me about this find of yours?"

"As you know, it was quite by chance. I saw a report in the local paper about an investigation being ordered into a maritime supplies company, St Mary's Chandlers, because their books didn't balance for the 2013/2014 accounts. Their accountant was sacked and they were having trouble finding another one with the right skills on the island."

"So you invited yourself around?"

"Yes, and when I said I was looking to move somewhere near Newquay airport, they knew I could be at their warehouse a few days a week if necessary."

"What did you find?"

"They owned a boat which would do fishing and diving trips for tourists during the day but at night was running out to collect lobster pots, however they always used more diesel that they should have. The crew were also using fictitious identities, and were paid cash.

"Rather a strange setup for a chandlers?"

"The tourist trips are a common business in the South West and a good way of using a boat that's otherwise moored."

"What's the boat's official role?"

"A supplies run into Penzance for hazardous goods or anything else that can't go on the flights from Newquay. The ferry isn't always running so it's useful to have a backup."

"Who took you on?"

"The CEO, he's concerned that the taxman will investigate them before they have a chance to work out what's going on and balance the books. As you can see from the draft report it's still a work in progress."

Although Heather had emailed the report to Jenny a few days earlier she still picked it up to refresh herself.

"How long do you need?"

"We'll go back down there after the weekend so we can fly back to Newquay on Friday and I see myself spending up to another week after that before I have everything I need."

"So if HMRC were held back for two to three weeks that would help?"

"Yes."

"Now, what's your thoughts on this?"

"It's plainly a smuggling operation."

"Of what?"

"I can't be certain, the boat's big enough to carry something substantial so it could be arms, drugs, cash or human traffic?"

"Human traffic?"

"Yes, with all of the ports and airports now on constant alert, it's difficult to get someone high profile into the country without them being identified. What if they were dropped off by a larger boat that was heading up or down St George's Channel, or even into the English Channel and picked up by the Chandlers boat for ferrying to Penzance as a fake crew member."

"Okay, let's explore it further, have Devon and Cornwall Police picked up any strange folk who can't identify themselves?"

"Yes, but sometimes it's just a drunk Emit!"

"Emit?"

"Cornish for tourist, not in a kind way."

"Okay, see what you can find from the books whilst I organise some discrete surveillance, perhaps Sophie fancies a little work?"

"Her rates are apparently very good."

"We'll see about that!"

"Jenny, I'm a little concerned that not all of your team are happy to see me?"

"Technically it's your team too."

"Yes, technically, but you saw it when you introduced me?"

"You were responsible for some fallout, including the removal of my predecessor."

"Come on, you know that was designed to confuse the enemy."

"Yes, but they don't know that. They will not see Dave in this building and will assume he was rail-roaded out, plus you seem to know me too well."

"Oh well, and I suppose we can never tell them how wrong they are?"

"That's right."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 8 Scilly Boys

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Heather wasn't far from New Scotland Yard so walked from Thames House when she was done there just after eleven, enjoying the warm day. There were plenty of tourists around but the streets weren't overly busy. The plan was to meet in a café, but Heather's phone rang before she reached it.

"Where are you?"

"I'm just coming onto Victoria Street."

"Okay, can you come round to Broadway House, it's behind NSY, your name will be at the desk."

"Right."

Heather was now used to this type of conversation. There was no point asking for further information over the phone as none would be given.

She arrived at the front desk of Broadway House and showed her MI5 identity card, they apparently knew what it was. Of course, she immediately set off the metal detector.

"Could you empty your bag?"

"I know what it is, it's my Glock." Heather was now wearing a pouch around her waist containing the weapon, she unclipped the bag and put it down.

"My firearms certificate is in my bag, in one of the side pockets."

This took another minute to deal with before she was allowed to pick her weapon up.

"I've noted your record to include you are licensed to carry a weapon, Miss Young. The serial number confirms that we issued it, although it was initially issued to another name."

"That would have been Abigail Adams."

"Yes."

Heather made a mental note, this was a link between two of her identities, her legal name and her professional name.

A few minutes later she was on the fifth floor and in Emily Keane's office, she wasn't alone.

"Good morning Heather, I'd like to introduce you to Assistant Commissioner Harry Godfrey and DI Kevin Edmunds. Of course you know Sophie!"

"Of course Emily, good morning DI Edmunds, Assistant Commissioner." She shook their hands.

"Miss Young, please call me Harry."

"Only if you call me Heather."

"Done. Now Heather, I was very impressed with the way you handled yourself during the investigation, unfortunately the focus of the enquiry shifted and some people close to the enquiry were themselves investigated. It became a little messy."

"Quite."

"I'd therefore be grateful if you could remain in contact with this unit as there may be other work coming your way, if you would like it?"

"Thank you sir, Harry, so long as the Security Service don't mind."

"I wouldn't have thought that would be a problem, Heather, as our work dovetails with theirs rather often."

"If you say so."

"I do, anyway, well done. I'll be off." With that he left.

DI Edmunds was still sat there, Emily now explained why.

"Heather, we have intelligence that an attack will be carried out on our air infrastructure in the next few months. What isn't yet known are the targets or the timing, DI Edmunds will explain."

"Thank you Emily. Heather, it looks like we will be hit sometime in December but as Emily said, the location is unclear. Security around Heathrow, Gatwick and Stansted is already tight but putting additional assets in now will just tip them off."

"Understood but I can't see anywhere that I might be useful, yet."

"Very true but as we identify who's involved then we'll need to analyse their accounts. Right now we have one name, but no location or other details. If you can handle the work, when it starts to come in, then that would be of value to us. Your liaison will remain DI Keane."

"Okay Kevin, I guess it's a 'wait and see' issue now?"

"Correct." He stood, shook hands and left, closing the door behind him.

"Emily, is he for real?"

"Yes, he's certain there is an operation being prepared but information is scarce at the moment."

"I guess I will have to wait. Now, has Sophie told you about the cottage? Are you certain that this is what you both want to do?"

"Yes, Emily," they both replied.

"Is there anything going on between you? Not that it's really my business."

Heather and Sophie looked at each-other. They had grown closer over the past few weeks and Sophie was now much more of a partner than a live-in bodyguard. She elected to answer.

"No, Emily, not as such. We're growing more like sisters so there's a better understanding and indeed some affection but we're not in a relationship."

"Okay, but I do wish you well for the future. No doubt we'll be in touch anyway."

"No doubt, Jenny's confirmed this morning that a secure phone will be installed in the cottage once we have the keys, as well as the other necessary security arrangements."

"You can run to Cornwall but you can't hide, not any more!"

"Maybe the Outer Hebrides would be a better idea?" That earned her a jab in the side from Sophie.

"Emily, I had a small problem downstairs, can we fix it please?"

***

The weekend was a frantic time. Heather had now been asked to go back to St Mary's Chandlers on Monday, but something else was complicating their lives.

Sophie and Heather had jointly bought the cottage after Sophie had sold her flat. The decision to cement their lives together had been taken early during their recent stay in the Scilly Isles, the sale had been agreed even before they had left the Scilly Isles. That meant urgently arranging to have the contents of her flat brought to Redhill in a hired van, which was now sat outside awaiting the next move.

The had also needed a solicitor, but Helen wasn't available. Jenny had come up with the solution - use anyone! The point here was to be ordinary, not to try to beat the system. Sophie appointed a solicitor to handle the sale of her flat whilst they both found one in Redruth to handle the purchase. Heather remembered the conversation well.

"So this is a holiday home you're buying?"

"No, we're planning to live there."

"You'll still have a London address?"

"No that will be somewhere to stay instead of using a hotel when I have to go into England."

"Oh, too many English say that but really just want a holiday cottage."

"Do they?"

"Yes, for example the centre of St Agnes is dead in the winter, too many empty cottages. It's a real problem."

"I can promise that we'll be Cornish residents, I'm working on a contract in the Scillys at the moment."

"What's your job?"

"A forensic accountant, I will be checking your invoices carefully."

***

Logistics didn't seem to be one of Heather's greatest strengths.

"Is this a sensible idea, Sophie?"

"I can't see there being a choice, you wanted to go for a swim this morning instead of getting on the road."

"I could cancel Monday?"

"That wouldn't be professional, especially as you agreed to be back there tomorrow without checking with me first."

"I didn't realise ........"

The cushion fight that followed was brief but had the pair giggling soon after.

***

They left Redhill on Sunday night in the hired van containing a fair chunk of Sophie's furniture, although some things like beds would be bought later. Now that Heather had her driving licence she was ready to have a go on the open road, the only problem was that she'd never driven at night; Sophie took the wheel.

The aim was to reach Penzance, in the far South West of Cornwall, which itself is the most South-Westerly county in England, in time for the morning ferry to St Marys. The journey time was just over five hours but that didn't take account of stops for breaks, toilets, or breakfast. This meant leaving Redhill at ten at night.

They'd reached Andover around eleven o'clock when Sophie suggested Heather took over,

"The steering is a bit heavy and the clutch needs to be treated a bit carefully but it's not too bad. There's a limiter so you can't go over sixty regardless how far down you push the throttle! Just remember, with all that weight in the back that stopping will take longer."

Carefully, Heather put herself in front of the steering wheel, adjusted her seat and checked the mirror. She prepared to pull away and stalled it.

"I said to be careful with the clutch, put the brake on and start again."

Second time around Heather did pull away and her confidence grew. After another hour they swapped around again, this time taking a short break.

By the time they crossed into Cornwall, after running across Dartmoor on the A30, it was just after four in the morning. They decided to keep going to Penzance and to take breakfast there. The ferry was at nine fifteen but they had to check in by eight thirty and avoid school traffic. The easiest way was to park the van in the port when they arrived just before six and take a walk, looking for somewhere to eat.

***

They drove off the ferry at half eleven and returned to the same guest house they had stayed in a week or so earlier. This time they knew they had to share a twin room, but this was only for a few days so neither objected too loudly. The guest house manager was apologetic and promised extra helpings at breakfast and dinner!

The van was already parked and alarmed, Sophie had added a few extra alarms - just in case. They headed to a pub for lunch, but Heather stayed off the alcohol as she had a meeting to go to.

As they walked out of The Mermaid Inn they found Sgt Marc Taylor, the Island's senior police officer.

"Hello Marc."

"You're back? I thought you had work in London?"

"We did, can we have a chat somewhere?"

"How about a walk down to the harbour?"

A few minutes later they were sat, clear of anyone listening in.

"Firstly Marc, I've resigned as a police officer."

"Oh, what's behind that decision?"

"Two fold, it enables me to do things that I couldn't when I was serving."

"True, but you wouldn't be engaging in illegal activities, would you?"

"No, but I might be around at odd hours for the next few days, in case any of your officers are doing very late or very early patrols."

"Okay, but it sounds like I shouldn't let the team know."

"I'd rather it was that way, if there are any problems then myself or Heather should be able to explain, failing that someone in the Met would ring you."

"The Met, but you resigned?"

"I'm now a Special with a loose brief, still connected to the Counter Terrorist Unit. Officially though I'm a security consultant and I work part-time for Heather."

"This sounds complicated."

"I'm giving you the simple version."

"But why are you telling me?"

"This is a small island and nothing goes on here that you don't hear about, I'd rather you didn't go sniffing but just ask one of us any direct questions you have."

"Fair enough. Please don't do anything stupid whilst you're here, though, I hate filling in reports."

"Sorry to leave you Marc, but I need to see the CEO of St Mary's Chandlers."

"Say hello to Peter for me, he doesn't deserve this hassle."

"That's why I'm back here, to help him sort it out."

"Be careful!"

"Thanks."

***

Heather hadn't wanted that conversation as it could potentially lead to the Sergeant making enquiries, discrete or otherwise, about her. Sophie, however, had argued that giving Marc enough of the story would be sufficient to keep him satisfied. She wondered about calling Jenny and letting her know but figured nothing about the wider enquiry had been disclosed, she could always include it in a later report.

She walked up to the Chandlers and strolled into the showroom which was littered with yachting and boating supplies, diving and fishing equipment, plus stores of food for those setting off on transatlantic voyages or simply on their round-Britain trip.

She climbed the stairs to Peter Cookson's small office and tapped on the door to get his attention.

"Hello Heather, please close the door and take a seat. I'm really grateful that you could get back here."

"Peter, as I said last time, I really like it on the island so don't mind one bit."

"What about your other clients?"

"I've just finished a major job and was on St Mary's taking a break before looking for something new, you know the rest."

"Well, I'm just pleased you can help us. Anyway, I need to bring you up to date. Firstly, I brought in new controls on cash handling and two people are now required to check cash in or out."

"Good, that's good practice anyway and should have been implemented already."

"As you know, I relied on my managers to apply policies and I had to extend trust."

"Well, it does no harm to confirm that policies are being adhered to. What's your check for the cash handling?"

"I nominate a random member of the staff each day to supervise the cash transfers or payments. They maintain a separate log which lives in my safe."

"Okay, have you checked the identity of all staff members, as I recommended?"

"That was a tough one as some of these guys have worked for the company for thirty or more years."

"I can understand, but we need to verify the identities of some of the boat crews, for example, I'm not convinced their tax and NI arrangements are satisfactory. That's something that Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs would focus on."

"I quite agree, but it hadn't been a problem until recently, the boatmen looked after themselves."

"How about asking each of the boatmen to come up here, I can run a tax and national insurance clinic for them?"

"That sounds like a good idea. You sure you don't want to do it in the harbour?"

"Definitely, much safer here, I can also use your photocopier if necessary."

"Of course."

"When are we going to do this?"

"I have to be in Cornwall on Friday and probably head back to London after the weekend, so we have tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. How about I be here from four to six every afternoon on those days?"

"That will mean the crew off the diving trips, which get back around then, could be here by five at the latest and the lobster crew could be here any-time before they take the boat out."

"Fine. I might be here a bit earlier on Tuesday to get myself setup, my assistant Sophie will be with me."

"I've not met her yet."

"She doesn't bite, not often anyway."

***

After dinner Heather suggested she and Sophie took a walk, postulating loudly that they could go to The Bishop & Wolf pub. Once outside the walked down to the beach on the southern side of Hugh Town and sat on the sand.

"I don't know how many of the crew we'll see with this clinic but I couldn't think of anything else."

"If you're not forcing them to see you then there will be less suspicion, plus they will all know about the threat of a visit from the tax man, this was a smuggling town until the recent past, some would say it still is."

"It might be interesting to see who doesn't come up then?"

"Correct, I'll have a think about that. How are you going to play it at the Chandlers?"

"I can use their old accountants office but I'd like a couple of cameras put up, discretely of course."

"I thought you might ask. Now what are we doing tomorrow morning?"

"Do you fancy a boat ride?"

"Sounds like an idea, I must put some cameras in my bag."

"Plenty of photography to be had, I hear."

"Exactly, anyway let's have a beer."

***

"Well, that was a waste of time."

Sophie spoke as the pair walked from St Mary's Chandlers after two hours of Heather's tax clinic.

"Not quite, we did see three people."

"But one of those was a woman asking why she hadn't had her widow's pension."

"It's a shame, her husband had just been in looking for their cat."

"Of course the third one was the CEO himself who wanted to make sure he wasn't over-paying his own tax."

"Never mind, there's always tomorrow, and the next day."

"Thanks, what's your plan tonight?"

"Falmouth Coastguard told Emily that the Chandler's Boy comes back in around one. The cameras on board will store twenty four hours of video which I can download later, that's assuming they didn't find the cameras."

"Look, my distraction couldn't have been too bad, good enough for you to plant the cameras."

"Falling in?"

"It certainly grabbed their attention."

"True, when did you buy that bikini?"

"Jenny got it for me when I was still at the house, it does tend to hide things well."

"Nobody had a hint you weren't anything other than you appeared. When are you having the boob job, by the way?"

"Don't know, it's not high on the priorities, they're coming along nicely though."

"You are a little ticklish there."

"Hmmm. What else did Falmouth Coastguard say?"

"Changing the subject?"

"Yes."

"Well, apparently the Chandler's Boy usually does a run into Penzance on a Thursday, how about I sail on it?"

"I'm sure Peter could sort that out. I take it you'll need supplies?"

"Something like that."

"I'm hungry Heather, what did you tell the guest house?"

"That we'd eat out."

"Is there an Indian or a Chinese restaurant on the island?"

"Don't think so."

"Damn? It'll have to be pasty and chips again, won't it."

"It's very traditional, you know?"

"I don't think they threw chips down into the tin mines for the miners' lunches."

"Maybe not, but I hope they had a pot of sweet pickle to go with the pasty."

"Get lost Heather!"

***

On Wednesday morning the pair walked down to the harbour and sat on the sea wall, overlooking Chandlers Boy. Sophie had her laptop out, reading her emails, although it was also downloading the video from four cameras. She'd review it later.

They watched the boat sail at ten that morning, by which time the cameras had been wiped and were recording afresh. Heather had taken the opportunity to talk to come of the crew the previous day and again this morning to make little suggestions about their tax affairs that were worth talking about in depth.

She had also asked about the night crew, did anyone have their phone numbers? It seemed there was a little reticence to give up this information, which was strange considering how small the island was. One name was forthcoming however, the lobster pot captain of Chandlers Boy was identified as Billy Trethgarwyn. Several of his crew were assumed to be his own sons.

Surprisingly little was known of Billy Trethgarwyn, only that he'd worked for the Cookson family for nearly forty years, taken on when Peter Cookson's grandfather ran St Mary's Chandlers. Apparently he didn't have a mobile or even a landline at home but Heather didn't doubt that these enquiries would reach Billy's ears.

Sophie took her laptop back to the van and backed up the hard-drive before uploading the video to a cloud server somewhere on the planet, she hadn't watched it yet but didn't fancy losing any of the data accidentally. Heather, meanwhile, decided to pay a visit to a café close to the St Mary's site of the Five Islands School.

"Coffee please."

"Milk?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Sugar's on the table. Are you that accountant?"

"That's me."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, seeing as you're not from the islands, why are you helping Peter Cookson?"

"I was on holiday here and I didn't like the idea of a long established company going under because the numbers didn't add up."

"But once you leave St Mary's it wouldn't be your concern any more?"

"I don't look at life that way. In any case, I'm only going as far as Redruth when I'm done here so can fly back from Newquay."

That seemed to be sufficient for the café owner, it was clear that suspicion of those from off the Scillys was an uncomfortable bed fellow to the need for tourism and trade from the mainland. Heather knew she was taking a chance here but one way to connect to the island's population was to talk to the mothers of the local students.

Her conversation at the counter had not gone unnoticed, Heather smiled as she sat down by herself. It was a few minutes before a mid-twenties lady slid over to Heather's table.

"Hello." She spoke softly, trying not to be overheard.

"Hi, are you giving tax advice this afternoon?"

"At the Chandlers, yes, when I'll have all of my guides with me, but do you have a question for me now?"

"Well, my husband is one of the boat crew and he is paid his money after tax and NI have been paid but now the revenue are writing to say he hasn't been paying anything."

"That is definitely not right. Can he see me this afternoon?"

"He's frightened to say anything as he might lose his job."

"Why does he think that?"

"It's that manager up there, Steve Daly, he bullies them into accepting whatever he says."

Steve Daly was the human resources manager, responsible for the payroll; he had deliberately avoided Heather on her visits to the company except for the first time when they'd been introduced. Heather decided then and there he was worthy of extra attention, some discrete checks were in progress.

"I'll be back here in the morning if you can bring me his last few wages slips?"

"He doesn't get a wages slip, just an envelope with an amount on it. They all do."

This was very wrong, was Peter Cookson aware?

"I am very concerned, thank you for letting me know about this. If your husband has a change of heart, I'll be there from four until six today and from one to three tomorrow."

"Thanks, I'll let him know."

Heather made her way back to the guest house and found Sophie reviewing the video.

"This is very boring, there's nothing out of the ordinary happening."

The image on the screen was of the open deck, showing lobster pots being hauled up, she switched the window to being up the wheelhouse camera.

"That's Trethgarwyn, the crew are calling him Billy or Cap'n. I have names and faces for most of the night crew now."

"I had a little chat with one of the wives, they're being paid cash with no records of deductions."

"Naughty."

"Exactly, I need to see if Jenny has an answer for me."

She switched on her own laptop and connected the portable encryptor. A minute or so later she was online and checking her emails.

"I have a reply for Steve Daly, he has form for fraud."

"Well, well."

"Here's an interesting bit, Sophie, Chandlers Boy isn't owned by the company, it's owned by Daly and Trethgarwyn. The ownership was transferred in 2012."

"When did Daly join the company?"

"Late 2011."

"And his conviction?"

"Convicted in 2010 and given two years but only served eight months."

"I wonder if Marc knows about him?"

"Do you think Marc would tell you anything?"

"He might, but I'd have to give him a good reason."

"Try it, he's a decent man and you say he's a good copper?"

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 9 Taxing Issues

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Heather walked up to St Mary's Chandlers at half past three, following gaggles of school age children from five to sixteen years old. She was deliberately earlier than she needed, the previous day she'd arrived at five to four and just caught a glimpse of Steve Daly exiting the carpark. Today she hoped he would be in his office, she wasn't wrong.

"Hello."

"Oh, you. I was just going."

"Well, I hope you can spare me a minute, could I have a printout of last month's payroll?"

"I can't give that to you."

"Yes you can, Peter Cookson expressly said I could look at anything I needed to."

"I'm saying different." He shut down his computer, locked loose papers in a drawer and stood up.

"Your minute's up and I have somewhere else to be. I think you're wasting your time here, anyway. Good bye."

He walked out, leaving Heather stood in his office. She walked around his desk and sat in the still-warm seat. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a USB device and plugged it in, she then booted the PC and waited for it to load her special system.

Automatically all the documents, spreadsheets, photos, emails and web history were copied, for later review. She then powered down the PC and removed the device, dropping it into her bag. The whole operation had taken under two minutes.

She had just stood when Steve Daly returned.

"I wouldn't bother trying to hack my computer, love, it's got a super strong password."

"I'm not your love, did you come back just to taunt me?"

"No, but I did want to lock my office door before you tried something silly."

"I was leaving, this computer's much too complicated for me." She had reached the doorway.

"See, I've saved you all that wasted effort."

Heather didn't bother to answer, but she walked down to the showroom floor and put her laptop on a desk. Sophie arrived as Daly was exiting the building. There was a shout of an expletive and he stormed back.

"Did one of you do that to my car?"

"Do what?"

"Let my front tyres down."

"Mr Daly, I've been in here the whole time and you went out to your car a few minutes ago before coming back in to goad me, and plainly didn't spot anything wrong that time."

"What about you? Who are you?"

"I'm Miss Young's assistant and you can put that accusatory finger somewhere else."

"Well, did you do that to my car?"

"Which one's your car? I've never seen you before."

Steve Daly stormed back out, reaching for his phone to call the local garage. Sophie just smiled, she had just put the dust cap on the driver's side front wheel when he'd come out of the building the first time. She had managed to remain hidden and took the chance to deflate the front passenger side wheel when he came back in.

"Do you reckon we'll get many takers?"

"No, but I'm gathering what information I can."

"Okay."

It was still only three forty-five so they weren't expecting anyone. A few minutes later they were surprised when Billy Trethgarwyn walked in. He was a man easily in his fifties, heavily bearded with a slight odour of mackerel.

"Hello, you must be Billy."

"And you must be that bird who's poking 'er nose into things."

"I don't have feathers or wings."

"You know what I mean.

"No really, I don't. I'm here because Peter Cookson needs my services."

"I think you should know that there's a ferry at five, your van will be on it."

"Whether or not we're in the van?"

"Yes."

"That's threatening behaviour, Mr Trethgarwyn." Sophie bit her tongue, she shouldn't use police jargon in case it gave her away. Her phone beeped.

"You've been watching too many of those police TV programmes. It was just some advice."

Sophie was monitoring her phone and not paying attention to the annoying captain. She suddenly put it to her lips and said "step away from the vehicle."

A second later there was a loud noise from the town.

"Step away from the vehicle"

She monitored the phone for a few seconds more then put it away.

"Mr Trethgarwyn, I'm afraid your little gang of boys have been scared off."

"What's this trickery of yours?"

"Oh, everybody in London has this. It records video too, I can show you how Billy junior and Scotty are trying to get into the van, have a look." Her phone was back in her hand, Trethgarwyn was out of the door.

It was ten minutes later when Sgt Marc Taylor arrived.

"Hello ladies, I've had a complaint about a very loud talking van that frightened Mrs Denison's pussycat onto the roof and now he won't come down."

"Hello Marc, do you have any idea how silly that sounds?"

"Yes, now please tell me what's going on."

"Billy Trethgarwyn just tried to frighten us into leaving St Mary's this afternoon, two of his boys went to break into our van whilst he was here. I have a few security devices on the van, do you want to see the video of then trying to jemmy the door? I think they left the crowbar there when they ran."

"Do you want to make a complaint?"

"No, I don't think they'll try that again. We're here until Friday, nothing will change that."

After the Scilly Isle's senior police officer had left the showroom, Heather and Sophie resumed doing nothing. One of the salesmen was around, mostly taking phone orders for boats that would be in the harbour the following day but he didn't say one word to them. Peter Cookson, CEO of St Mary's Chandlers eventually returned at five thirty.

"How's it gone?"

"Dead. Can we have a chat in your room? By the way, this is Sophie my assistant."

"Hi Sophie."

"Hello, I understand Chandlers Boy is doing a run into Penzance in the morning."

"Yes, she usually sails around nine, depending on the tide."

"I'd like to sail on her if you don't mind."

"I can't see that being a problem, just let them know in the morning that I've okay'd it."

"Thanks Peter, it'll be useful for me if Sophie observes the crew."

"I can't see how, but then you are here to find those missing pounds."

"Yes. By the way, I had a little run-in with your human resources manager."

"Oh, he was screaming at me on the phone about someone letting down his tyres."

"He accused both of us, that was after he obstructed me when I asked for the payroll data."

"I've told him he should co-operate."

"I know, I was there."

"I'll tell him to give you a copy of the whole lot, presumably you want this year and last year?"

"I think I'd better go back to the 2011-2012 year and everything since."

"Precautionary, I hope?"

"Something like that. We'd best get going,"

"Okay, I'll come down with you and lock up."

They walked back to the guest house but checked the van first, one of the tyres had been partially deflated, Sophie shrugged - if anyone wanted to move the van now then they would have to sort that out first, what an irony. The van could wait until Friday morning.

They ate in the guest house that night, although weren't too pleased when the evening meal was a traditional Cornish pasty, that'll be three days running so far.

After dinner they took a walk down to the harbour, just as Chandlers Boy left its' berth. There was no time to download the video from the four onboard cameras so that would have to be done the following morning. With nothing else to do they headed back so Heather could file an updated report. Sophie grabbed another piece of equipment from the van, a broach camera.

***

The pair were out of the guest house soon after eight and walked straight to the harbour. Chandlers Boy was moored in its' usual spot and members of the crew were loading equipment onboard, some of which had RNLI Lifeboat insignia. Then one of the local lifeboat crew came over and stepped onto the boat.

Whilst Heather sat down, holding Sophie's laptop, Sophie herself walked over and explained to the day captain John Denison that she had Peter Cookson's permission to sail with them.

"He can't give permission, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I'm the captain therefore I'm legally responsible for this vessel and that means I say who can and who can't sail."

"In that case captain, do I have permission to join you for this trip to Penzance?"

"No, but you can join us for a trip to Newlyn."

"Thanks, isn't that a bit like splitting hairs?"

"Not at all, Penzance and Newlyn are separate harbours that happen to be a few hundred metres apart in St Michael's Bay. We're returning some RNLI equipment to the Penlee Lifeboat Station so the delivery van will meet us there. Welcome aboard."

Heather watched as Chandlers Boy let go and moved off the harbour wall, what had been a little disconcerting was the late appearance of Billy Trethgarwyn Senior just before it sailed; he hadn't asked permission to go aboard.

Heather received a text message from Sophie as the boat disappeared from sight.

The bearded one spotted me and spoke to Capt Denison, bearded one is not happy.

With nothing more to do she packed away Sophie's laptop then walked back to the café near the Five Islands School.

"Hello again, usual?"

"Yes please." Heather had been in this café the previous morning and once on their earlier visit, did that make her a regular?

"There you go, coffee with milk."

"Thank you."

She found a seat by herself and wasn't surprised when the same mother as the previous day approached her table, with a friend.

"Hello again Heather."

"Hi, I didn't get your name yesterday?"

"No. Anyway, both of our men had calls from Steve Daly yesterday accusing the men of talking to you."

"Seeing as I haven't spoken to any of the crew except Billy Trethgarwyn, that couldn't be true."

"That's what we said. He wasn't happy anyway as someone let the tyres down on his car."

"I was there, it was just after school finished yesterday."

"Apparently you asked for the payroll information and he said you couldn't have it."

"That's about it, but that won't stop me for long."

"What's your angle on this?"

"I'm a forensic accountant, I investigate not just the numbers but why things happen. If something is not done very soon the tax investigation teams are going to be all over the company and Mr Daly will almost certainly do a disappearing act."

"That bad?"

"Yes, I'll be at the offices again at three this afternoon if anyone wants to see me."

The delegation walked away, Heather finished her coffee and walked back towards the harbour. The sun was out and the early morning wind had dropped to a gentle breeze; the sea was almost still with just the odd ripple. The crossing to Penzance, she'd been told, was just over three hours on a good day so she'd next expect to hear from Sophie around midday.

Back in their room at the guest house, Heather checked her emails. She'd submitted the previous day's report with trepidation as she'd included the plan to put Sophie on the boat that morning. Jenny's reply couldn't be clearer:

From: Jennifer Osborne
To: Heather Young
Subject: Re: Report 15 October

Heather,

Do not put Sophie on that boat, just observe and report, backup can be in place for next week's run.

Jenny

 
Heather decided that replying to this email right now would be counter-productive so close the laptop and put it away. She now had a few hours to kill before, probably, another wasted session at St Mary's Chandlers. She considered what she knew so far:

Peter Cookson was a good man but far too trusting, he wasn't supervising what was going on around him. The personnel manager was an ex-con with a track record in fraud; he was paying salaries in cash with spurious undeclared deductions. Whose pocket did the so-called deductions go in? Finally, he was registered as the part owner of Chandlers Boy, ostensibly the firm's boat.

The boat was also making some odd runs, using more diesel than normal - diesel paid for by the firm using a credit card.

She started her laptop up again but this time left the encryptor out and used a different sign-in. Peter Cookson had given her the logins for the firm's bank accounts and the credit card when she'd agreed to take on the job so she checked the last few fuel purchases.

The policy was to refuel after each afternoon, in case the boat was needed for a run to the mainland. What was odd was that a refuelling had taken place on Wednesday afternoon as scheduled but again this morning, before Heather and Sophie reached the harbour. The morning refuelling was equal in value to the previous twenty four hours, just how far had she gone?

She rang Falmouth Coastguard and tried to ask about the boat.

"I'm sorry, love, but we can't give that out but we did have an enquiry on the same boat a few days ago."

"Okay, thanks."

"You could always try the AIS?"

"AIS?"

"It's a location and identification beacon that all commercial boats in European waters should now have, although there's no guarantee it's switched on." The coastguard officer told Heather how to access it.

Heather looked and indeed found Chandlers Boy but where had it been the previous night? She couldn't access that without paying for the website - free access only went so far. A few minutes later, signing on using her business email address, she could see the previous day's travels, sort of.

There were gaps in the coverage as the boat strayed from receiver stations but it looked like there was a receiver on the Bishop Rock lighthouse, several miles south-west of the Scillys. Heather knew, however, that the lobster pots were found at several sites between St Mary's and St Agnus, the island just to the south of where she was now.

The only reason to go past Bishop Rock was to access the shipping lanes, but there was no way she could try to work out which ship might have slowed to drop something, or someone, off. This could be done later. She turned her attention back to where Chandlers Boy was right now and saw it had almost reached Land's End.

Sophie must have been within reach of her mobile network as a text arrived.

Not happy with the bearded one, he's up to something. Been told we're going to Newlyn.

Maybe Jenny had been correct in telling her to wait, but it was far too late to deal with that now. Heather sent a text back.

Okay, let me know when arrive. Following on AIS.

It wasn't far past eleven but Heather fancied some lunch, she also figured that turning up at the chandlers a little early wasn't a bad idea, it would at least pass the time whilst she waited for Sophie's return. Heather strolled into the centre of town and visited a bakery, picking up a filled roll and a cake before walking to the harbour to eat. She spotted Scotty Trethgarwyn and Billy Trethgarwyn Junior heading the other way, towards the guest house, but they hadn't seen Heather. She decided to follow.

Sgt Marc Taylor crossed her path and saw concern on Heather's face.

"What's the matter?"

"Those Trethgarwyn boys are heading towards our van again, I'm following."

"I'll come with you."

From a distance they could see the boys dipping down near the front of the van, but there was no time for the police officer to call for backup. He signalled for Heather to wait whilst he walked around the far side, she held back as asked but unzipped her belt bag.

Suddenly Marc had Scotty in his hands and was telling Billy Junior to stand up and wait to be arrested. Billy had no such idea but pulled a wooden baton from his jacket, then started to walk towards Heather. She didn't hesitate and pulled her weapon from the pouch.

"Stop or I will shoot."

"Ha ha!" He continued.

She fired, deliberately aiming to his left. He dropped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Protecting myself, Marc."

"That is an illegal weapon."

"No, I have a licence for it. Can we deal with these two then I can get you the paperwork."

"I should arrest you here and now, but you can't get off the island so we'll walk this pair back to the police station. You come along with me, but put that away."

He pulled Billy Junior to his feet and cuffed him, the lad was whimpering.

The police station was only two hundred yards away and they were met by one of Sgt Taylor's officers before they reached the back door.

"Book these in for going equipped, we'll handle any other offences when I've dealt with a different problem. By the way, they might need some clean underpants."

"That woman, she's dangerous!"

"She missed, be grateful." He turned to Heather.

"Come with me Miss Young." She wasn't Heather now.

They were sat in one of the interview rooms and Marc had asked Heather to remove the weapon, then to take the magazine out. He made a note of the serial number. Next she showed him her firearms permit.

"This is a Met Police permit, issued to only Police Officers."

"I'm not a police officer, but it was issued by them to me, let me show you my warrant."

This took him by surprise, for many reasons. Firstly he'd never seen a Special Warrant but realised it was probably a genuine document, of greater concern was why an accountant was armed and carrying a 'get out of jail free' card.

"Explain yourself."

"I am an accountant, I'm just working for a government department as well."

"Which."

"I'd rather not say."

"A bloody spook then."

She smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes, why the weapon?"

"In the past twelve weeks, or so, there have been at least four direct attempts on my life. Sophie was until last week my bodyguard."

"Is she armed?"

Heather nodded.

"Bloody hell, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you'd feel obliged to report it to HQ and Plymouth Special Branch don't like us very much."

"Anything to do with an incident on The Barbican a few weeks back?"

"Yes."

"You have put me in a very difficult position by discharging this weapon in the street."

"It was that or end up in an air ambulance heading for a hospital on the mainland."

Her phone beeped.

Bearded one just had a call, proves he does have a phone. He's very upset.

"Sophie's on Chandlers Boy, Billy Trethgarwyn Senior is also there, it looks like he's just been told what happened. She's in danger."

"I'll get a unit to them, where are they heading?"

"Newlyn."

He went back to the custody desk and picked up a phone, explaining that an ex Met Police officer was in danger on the boat. This did not seem to rank as urgent in the control room.

"She's armed."

That did the trick.

The next news came ten minutes later when the phone in custody rang, the duty officer handed Marc the handset, he spoke briefly then returned to Heather.

"The armed response unit wasn't far away, they've arrested your friend. Apparently she was creating havoc on the boat."

"That's not Sophie's style, you know she was Diplomatic and Royalty Protection Squad before she joined Counter Terrorism?"

"Yes, but I didn't know she was in Counter Terrorism, is that what this is about?"

"I can't say."

"Bloody woman, this is my island and there's an operation running that I'm being kept in the dark about?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Who's running it?"

"MI5 and SO15."

"Jesus. Does anyone in Devon and Cornwall Constabulary know about this?"

"No, we're just intelligence gathering."

The phone rang again, Marc returned after a minute.

"She has concussion and is on her way to Treliske Hospital near Truro."

"I need to get there."

"I'm not done with you yet."

"Sod that, I need a helicopter."

"Just how deep are your pockets?"

"Deep enough, can you phone the airport?"

Sgt Marc Taylor was now in two minds, he appreciated that a former colleague was on her way to hospital with concussion but also had an unresolved firearms issue to deal with. Sat in two of his cells were Billy Junior and Scotty, sons of Captain Billy Trethgarwyn.

"How am I going to handle this? The moment these two go in front of a magistrate they'll complain you shot at them without provocation."

"Then let them go."

"What about the criminal damage to your van?"

"They haven't done anything serious yet and I suspect they'll not try again having been scared off once and arrested on the second attempt."

"Won't that make you a target?"

"Perhaps, but I'm used to that having had a price put on my head and an RPG through my hospital ward window."

"I remember that, it was you?"

"Yes, I'd left there the day before thankfully. I was also rescued by the SAS last month."

"Look, Wonder Woman, I think that the sooner you're out of my station the safer I'll feel."

"If that's what it takes? Now, how about that helicopter?"

St Mary's Airport was only ten minutes away by police car. March told her it was unusual because the airport was owned and operated by the Scilly Isles Council, at a time when many local authorities have sold municipal airports to raise capital or closed the site to build housing.

The regular helicopter service to the mainland had closed in 2012 so there were no longer any helicopters for hire based at St Mary's. The airport had, however, passed on the request to a helicopter firm based at Newquay Airport. That chopper was now ten minutes off the Scillys.

"Please be careful, Heather."

"I will Marc. I care deeply for Sophie."

The helicopter took Heather directly to Treliske Hospital before returning to its' Newquay base. Heather did not get a friendly welcome in the accident and emergency department.

"I'm afraid we can't tell you anything."

"She is my assistant and we've just bought a house together in Redruth, if that doesn't qualify then I don't know what does."

"It's not that, the police have asked that access is restricted."

"In that case, get me the senior police officer."

"Sorry."

Heather walked outside and pulled her phone out.

"Emily, we have an issue......"

A few minutes later an inspector from Devon and Cornwall Constabulary found her.

"Miss Young?"

"Yes."

"Could you come with me?"

"If it's not to see DS Grieve then the answer is no."

"DS Grieve?"

"Yes, Sophie is DS Grieve."

"She didn't say."

"And her firearms licence doesn't have that printed on it? Her warrant should also be in her bag."

"Oh."

"So, you didn't do your job, or ask appropriate questions, fully identify the patient, allow someone with knowledge to see her and waited until a call from the Met Police counter terrorism unit lands at your HQ and scares certain people into thinking with their heads instead of their arses?"

"If you'll come with me, we'll go to Ms Grieve."

Heather found Sophie sat up on a bed with two officers standing guard, both armed.

"Put the guns away boys."

"Who are you?"

"Here's my warrant, have you found Sophie's yet? Inspector, you'd best explain."

"Ms Grieve, I am de-arresting you, now that certain issues have been explained."

"Thank you, but you could have just asked why I was found on the quayside in Newlyn semi-concious?"

"But you didn't declare yourself as a police officer and you were found with a firearm."

"And with a full licence, but nobody asked. Where is my weapon?"

One of the armed officers spoke, "in our vehicle."

"In that case," suggested Heather, "how about you run us to St Mawgan so I can have a helicopter take us back to St Mary's."

"I think that can be arranged, but don't you want to make a complaint against the boat crew?" Queried the inspector.

"No, we have bigger things to deal with, much bigger."

"I need to make certain the senior officer in St Mary's knows about the firearms."

"He already knows, Inspector, perhaps we can have a chat in the car, are you busy for the next hour or so?"

***

Heather and Sophie had gained a few other passengers when they stepped off the helicopter at quarter past two, taking a taxi back to the guest house. Sophie set about checking the video from overnight, whilst the video from her broach camera was being transferred onto Heather's laptop.

Heather fast-forwarded to just before the boat docked, what was clear was that Captain Denison had distracted Sophie just before Trethgarwyn hit her, knocking her to the floor. The camera continued to record whilst she was down, dazed. Judging by the way the background engine noise dropped very soon after this incident they must have come alongside in Newlyn Harbour.

A face appeared who was not one of the crew and who hadn't featured in any previous video, he was heard asking in stilted English.

"The woman, we get rid of her?"

Denison answers. "No, I have better plan to discredit her and her girlfriend." There's then an image of the unknown man and Trethgarwyn moving a large locked box.

Soon after, Sophie is carried off the boat and dropped on the quayside. There's a shot of the unknown man getting into a van that's waiting, as it departs it passes the incoming police vehicle. The broach continues to record audio although Sophie is laying in the wrong direction for any useful video to be captured.

"What's up with her?"

"She went berserk, hit several of us before she knocked herself out."

"We have a report that she's armed."

"Oh." That was clearly news to the crew.

Heather rewound to a point a few minutes before she was hit and saved everything until just before the comment about her being armed, then burnt that to a DVD. Sophie, meanwhile, had swallowed a couple of analgesics and declared herself ready for the next stage of their operation.

"If you're sure?"

They walked up to St Mary's Chandlers, arriving there just after three.

"There you are, you're late!"

"Hello Peter, we had a small problem." She noticed twelve women stood there.

"They're all here to see you about their husbands' pay."

"Is Steve Daly here?"

"No."

"Oh well, that can wait another day. I have a video here that you'll want to watch, Sophie will explain it - if it needs any explaining."

She turned to the assembled ladies.

"I wish I had good news for you but I have found clear evidence of fraud concerning your husbands' pay. That will be a matter for the police and the courts. Unfortunately it does not end there and one or more of the boat crews will probably lose their jobs. However, as St Mary's Chandlers does not own the boat, your argument is not with Peter Cookson."

That generated a fair deal of questions until the CEO of St Mary's Chandlers returned from his office, he quickly caught up with the issue of boat ownership.

"I thought I did own the boat?"

"According to the registry it's jointly owned by Steve Daly and Billy Trethgarwyn and has been for over two years."

"Having just seen two of my captains participate in an assault, I'm wondering what else I don't know about." He hadn't noticed the extra passenger and Sophie hadn't pointed him out, did Peter Cookson really know 'his' crews?

With reference to the two captains all the women started talking, rounding on John Denison's wife, Hazel. The CEO then realized something didn't make sense.

"You said that video was made this morning?"

"Yes."

"But the boat's not back yet."

"Correct, they also threw me off the boat, I was concussed, then arrested, and taken to hospital where Heather found me."

"Which hospital?"

"Treliske."

"That's twenty five miles from Penzance."

"Yes."

"How did you get back?"

"By helicopter."

Steve Daly chose that moment to walk in and expressed surprise when he saw Sophie.

"How did you get back?"

Peter Cookson didn't miss that. "Steve, explain yourself."

"Ermm, she was here yesterday."

"I know what you meant. Clear your desk, you're sacked."

"You can't do that, I have rights."

"Yes I can, and I just did, fraud is a sackable offence."

The former personnel manager was on his way up the stairs, "well, I wiped my PC this morning so you won't gain anything."

Heather smiled but said nothing. A new voice arrived.

"I'm a bit late to this party, there was some trouble in the harbour. Good afternoon Miss Young, Miss Grieve, everyone. Where's Steve Daly?"

A few pointed up to the management offices. Sgt Marc Taylor walked up there and was heard to interrupt Steve Daly who was stuffing documents into a shredder, jamming it.

"You're under arrest ...."

It took another minute before Marc Taylor rejoined the gathering on the shop floor, escorting his target who was now handcuffed.

"Please don't go into his office until it has been checked. Other officers will be here shortly."

Peter Cookson was now very concerned, "what do you know and where does this leave me?"

"It is highly likely that ownership of your boat was obtained fraudulently so your solicitor should contact the Maritime and Coastguard Agency in Cardiff and ask them to check the transfer documentation. Now, several of your crew have been involved in smuggling and I have evidence of that. Lastly, your personnel manager has been pocketing the income tax and national insurance deductions from the boat crews' salaries. That would mean that those crew would now owe several thousand pounds for unpaid tax and national insurance over the past two or three tax years."

That drew a gasp from the wives present.

Peter Cookson was now at the end of his tether. "As of now all of the crew are laid off and will have to apply to rejoin the crew if I win back ownership of MY boat. If any have been involved in violence or smuggling then you can expect no favours from myself and will have to deal with the Revenue by yourself."

That created uproar, the scene was turning ugly.

"Quiet!"

The police inspector who had accompanied Heather and Sophie on the chopper ride had now arrived.

"All of the boat crew are under arrest and will be interviewed shortly, although it is likely that they will be transported to Penzance. Mr Cookson, we need to discuss your boat."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 10 Fuschia Cottage

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

It was eight o'clock on Friday morning as Heather loaded their cases into the back of the hire van whilst Sophie used an electric pump to re-inflate the tyre that had been 'got at', the plan was for them to catch the nine o'clock ferry to Penzance.

The previous afternoon had calmed down when Heather supplied Peter Cookson with a copy of Steve Daly's deleted data, including information on a company bank account that seemed to be his cache for the stolen money. Heather explained that every time sheet would have to be checked again and the deductions re-calculated. Whether the cache was sufficient to satisfy the Revenue was a different question but everyone would be receiving several years of tax forms over the next week.

Heather promised to return to St Mary's to explain her findings to the tax inspectors who were due in two weeks time. Once they had left the chandlers, the pair walked into the harbour so Sophie could download the latest video from her secret cameras, which hadn't been declared to the police yet.

As they pulled out of the parking bay, heading for the ferry, a small crowd was seeing them off. Heather had mixed feelings about this, the real losers were the wives of the boatmen. She did have limited sympathy for the CEO but he had taken his eye off the ball so carried some responsibility for what had happened.

It had taken some time for the wives to understand that Heather hadn't caused the problems, she had just exposed them, although the women would have liked a scapegoat.

They drove onto the ferry, observed by Sgt Marc Taylor.

"Well Sophie, let's go home."

***

"Good morning, I think."

"Morning Heather, I take it you're not looking forward to this?"

"No, but do we have a choice?"

"Don't think of it that way, it's a debrief not an enquiry."

"I know but I get the feeling I'll be told off."

"Possibly, but if it was serious then you'd have been hauled up to London a few days ago. Now .... race you to the shower."

It was early Thursday morning, very early, and the pair were due several hundred miles East of Redruth for two separate meetings. Right now, at five o'clock, they had less than an hour to be out of the door to ensure they made it onto the 0605 service into London's Paddington station.

Fortunately the cottage was only ten minutes walk from the station. Unfortunately the train journey would take over five hours.

The first meeting was with DI Kevin Edmunds at midday so they had no time to grab lunch beforehand and neither fancied food on the train. Depending how late the train was, they only had a maximum of forty-five minutes to get across to New Scotland Yard from Isambard Kingdom Brunel's London railway terminus.

The next meeting wasn't until Friday morning and that was at Thames House with Jenny, with a promise that Sophie's pass would be waiting for her. All of this meant an overnight stay in Redhill, possibly two, as Sophie wanted to drive her car to Cornwall.

"Get a move on!"

"Yes, wifey."

"Come on Heather, there's no need to be like that."

***

The previous Friday had been hectic. By the time they had reached Redruth it was half-past eleven and they still had to pick up the keys to the cottage from the estate agency. Even that wasn't straightforward.

"I'm sorry but I've not had confirmation that the funds have been transferred."

"Why now? This was all agreed a week ago! Next you'll be telling me that the Bank Of England has gone bust."

"No, but it was having trouble with the electronic funds transfer system."

"Maybe, but I suspect something more local; it's nearly lunchtime and you haven't bothered to check the fax machine for the past hour."

"That is slanderous."

"But true, have you seen the pile of incoming faxes? Go fetch, like a good boy."

A few minutes and signatures later Sophie and Heather walked back to their van, which they'd parked outside the cottage. Another, smaller van, was now parked there.

"Good, err, morning Heather, morning Sophie."

"Hello Jimmy, they sent you all the way down here?"

"Yes, but I'd go anywhere for two lovely ladies."

"Jimmy Ruddle, behave yourself! Do you have everything?"

"Of course."

"What about the security sweep?"

"We did it yesterday, then changed the locks."

"So these keys are no good?"

"Nope, shall we go in?"

The cottage was almost bare, with polished wooden floors throughout the ground floor. Upstairs had cheap carpeting that would need to be dealt with in due course, or at least before the winter arrived. Although it was now the third week of October the weather was still mild, with no sign of frost.

Jimmy explained the security measures he and his team, the rest of which having since departed, had installed. It had helped that BT had fitted the fibre a few days earlier, under MI5's supervision, so the communication equipment was already in and tested. Once again the small third bedroom had been turned into an office with a safe and additional alarm.

Once they had the new security codes, and had tested the secure phone for themselves, the girls put their equipment in the office and locked it. With Jimmy's help they unloaded the van into the lounge, much of the work would have to be done later as some shopping was needed.

They headed for Trago Mills at Falmouth and were grateful that they had the van, that enabled beds and rugs, wardrobes and other furniture to be loaded straight away instead of waiting for delivery at some point during the following week. The total bill came to several thousand pounds but had the benefit of making certain one of the duty managers was available to assist. As an afterthought they also picked up a barrow for moving everything around.

Finally they called into Tesco to stock with food and cleaning products, although this was a stop-gap measure and a bigger shop would have to be done before the weekend was over.

Jimmy had hung around and was booked into a B&B until Saturday morning 'just in case' but would have volunteered to stay on seeing how Heather and Sophie couldn't trust any of the locals yet. By the time the van was unloaded for a second time it was seven o'clock but at least one bed was made.

"Let's get a Chinese."

"I don't fancy the clearing up, we'll eat out."

Once they'd eaten, Jimmy was invited to join them in a local bar, but declined the suggestion of a few beers.

"Sorry but I have to drive back in the morning."

They had no energy left when they arrived back at the cottage so had shared the one bed that was available, for pragmatic reasons.

The following morning meant testing the shower and dashing out to buy milk as they'd both forgotten it. From nine there was a succession of visitors to the door, mostly neighbours who only wanted to know one thing:

"Are you using the cottage as a holiday home?"

The answer, as ever, was, "no this is our home."

From midday several deliveries arrived, the washing machine and freezer being two of the most important. There was also the matter of a small car, Heathers. The idea was that it would not leave Cornwall so did not need to be anything fast and fanciful - sensible and economical would be preferable. It also meant that her insurance was lower.

"I just hope you don't need to do any evasive driving in it?"

"Seriously, Sophie, have you seen the roads around here? I'm certain the Romans never made it to Cornwall."

By the time they shut the door on that Thursday morning, heading for Redruth Station for the 0605, they had the cottage more or less how they wanted it. The second bedroom had been finished but they opted to keep that for visitors or until they fell out with each other. There was a suggestion that Heather snored, although she denied it.

The train journey was uneventful, and quite boring - they couldn't discuss any operational matters and there's only so many times you can read the newspaper. Once they finally reached Paddington they took the Circle line round to St James' Park and walked the rest, just making it to Broadway House by midday. This time there were no issues at Security before they took the lift to Emily's office.

"Sophie, Heather, so lovely to see you again."

"Thanks Kevin, but you didn't call us here to compliment us?"

"No, consider it a bonus! Anyway, the videos you sent up were very interesting."

"We thought so, Heather had a suspicion that the boat was being used for smuggling."

"Good call, Heather, but don't take risks like that again." He had clearly read the report.

He continued, "we've examined the footage and it looks like the crew have done this before judging by the way they handled the transfer. What have Devon and Cornwall said?"

"We haven't told them about the onboard cameras or the additional crew members."

"Oh, so the crew haven't been interviewed about that yet? We'll have to ask Special Branch down there to do some work on our behalf."

"Can they be discrete?"

"Good point but we can't send a Met Team down there without stirring things up. Whatever happens, that route is now finished as a means of getting someone into the country so we need to focus on other routes."

"We'll keep our eyes and ears open."

"Good. I had some news this morning that we might have identified the male who you met on the boat. He's believed to be a Kosovan named Duran Kelmendi who lives near Tirana these days. He has links to Armenia and specialises in explosives so the assumption is that the large box travelling with him contains his tools of the trade. We urgently need to know where he's gone."

"I take it he couldn't have flown in?"

"No, he's on immigration's banned list here and across Europe."

"Does he tie into your investigation?"

"Certainly, but he could be here for a different reason as well, the main thing is we need to find him. We're also looking for the boat that dropped him off, it's been identified as the Bosphorus Star, a Turkish general cargo vessel."

"Thank you for the update, Kevin, we'll do our best to find more intelligence for you."

DI Kevin Edmunds thanked everyone then took the opportunity to leave, sensing that the subject matter was about to change.

Emily had been quiet so far during the meeting but felt she had to raise an issue.

"Heather, you and Sophie were compromised, how effective can you be in the future?"

"Emily, it was necessary to identify ourselves before issues became uncontrollable."

"I mean you drew your weapon and fired in a public street plus informed Sgt Taylor that Sophie was carrying a weapon, which led to her being arrested temporarily. It was hardly the ideal outcome?"

"Perhaps not but I did what I could do at the time."

"I must say that as the Met Police issued your weapon, we can also withdraw it. You need to be more controlled or you will lose it, understand?"

"Yes, Emily."

"Now, Sophie, I've obviously read your report and seen the boat video as well as your personal camera, but how did you become distracted enough to be taken out?"

"I thought I'd heard a noise like a hatch being opened and was listening for anything else, I was surprised, that's all."

"You shouldn't have been there at all if you'd followed instructions."

"Granted, but I doubt I would have been granted permission to plant the cameras either so we wouldn't have known about the Kosovan bomber."

"Plainly DI Edmunds is more concerned with the intelligence that was gained than the operational foul-ups and risks taken. Consider yourself reprimanded, DS Grieve."

"Yes, Inspector."

"Now, Sophie, I understand that you're being paid by the Security Service?"

"It's through Heather's company so it looks as if I'm her employee to anyone who might be able to check."

"But your role is field agent?"

"That and whatever else is necessary."

"Okay, just be careful and continue reporting anything relevant to me."

As they left the building it was clear that Emily was not happy about getting the pair of them out of trouble, One of the issues now was that Devon and Cornwall Police were aware that a pair of intelligence officers were living in mid Cornwall. That meant there was an increased risk of their role being leaked, ending their ability to work under those identities or in that area.

Emily had insisted that Heather and Sophie needed to keep under the radar and not cause Emily, or the local Police, any problems. That could be difficult to achieve, Heather realised.

They took the tube to London Bridge Station and caught a fast train to Redhill. First task when they arrived was to do a little shopping using Sophie's car, taking the opportunity to refuelling it. The last task was to pick up some fish and chips as neither had the energy to cook. Going to bed, even before nine, was an easy decision to make. Sophie had the last word of the day.

"If you start snoring I'm leaving."

***

Heather was not enjoying Friday as her train into London was currently stopped between stations, again. The announcement did nothing to appease her when she was informed there was a broken down freight train somewhere on the line.

"I'm late already."

"So? You should be used to this, having lived in London all your life?" Sophie was not the most positive thinking person this morning.

"I was born north of the river and caught a bus to my office every day, if a road was closed the bus diverted until it was past the problem. If I was late getting to my office then the worst that ever happened was having a client waiting at the door or a couple of missed calls."

"So because you are from the North side you can moan loudly about the trains down here?"

"That's not what I meant."

“Your attention please. This train will be terminated at Croydon East, please listen for further announcements”

"Great, have I just proved my point? How do we get from Croydon East?"

"We'll walk to Croydon West and take the first one into London Victoria."

They weren't the only ones to have this idea so ended up playing sardines on the service from Croydon West, with Heather moaning every few minutes. She was not in a good mood when they finally arrived at Thames House, an hour late.

Of course, when you're late it's standard practice for extra delays to occur, making you even later. Today half of the 'airlock' security doors weren't working so there were queues in the entrance hall. Added to that, Sophie's new pass was missing and took several minutes to find.

"Where have you two been? I have another meeting in fifteen minutes."

"Good morning Jenny, let's just say that there was a transport conspiracy against us this morning."

"Come on, we've plenty to go through."

She led them to the secure meeting room and asked Val to join them. Val was carrying a laptop bag, which was handed to Sophie without any explanation.

"Introductions first, Val this is DS Sophie Grieve who is attached to this team temporarily, you've met Heather previously. Sophie, this is Val who is one of my analysts." The usual "hellos" followed.

"Now, Heather, your suspicions were proven correct but your field craft is lousy."

"Jenny, I've never had any training, three months ago I was just an accountant."

"Good point, but common sense should have told you not to take risks or go against direct orders."

"That email arrived too late, plus we didn't know for certain there was an illegal on the boat last Thursday."

"Sophie, you should have known better?"

"I've been through that with Emily," she corrected herself for Val's benefit, "DI Emily Keane of the Counter Terrorism Unit. We had no backup and weren't keen on involving Devon and Cornwall Constabulary."

"So you should have waited to see if there was video evidence of an illegal and then asked for backup for the following week's run?"

"I'm not convinced there was going to be another run given what was happening in the rest of the company." Heather offered, Sophie nodded her agreement.

"Fair point but the video alone should have been enough to prosecute."

The discussion continued along the same lines for a few more minutes, but Sophie was suspicious of Val's presence as there was no obvious need for her. That soon changed.

"Val, what do we know about Duran Kelmendi?"

"Although he's based near Tirana he has banking facilities within the EU, especially Italy and Greece. We've asked for his financial records but nothing's come through yet - it might take a while. He has however used a known Visa card in the past few days in Harmondsworth."

"That's right by Heathrow Airport."

"Yes, Sophie, which is worrying as it matches the intelligence we received a few weeks ago."

"Do we have any more information?"

"No, unfortunately, but we are trying to locate known associates. One of them is believed to be currently in Switzerland and may travel here soon."

"I'm sorry everyone but my time's up." Jenny stood and walked out of the room, leaving the others wondering what to do next. Val hesitantly asked Heather a question.

"You seem to know Jenny well?"

"I've known her for a few months, but I don't think I can say much more than that." Sophie shook her head.

Val was plainly thinking about another question but Sophie decided she was fishing for information that could not be given, intelligence officers and analysts do not share information unless it's on a need-to-know basis.

"Come on Heather, let's get going."

As they reached the lobby area John Smith, the Personnel Security Manager, intercepted them.

"Ah Miss Young, DS Grieve, could you come with me please?"

Heather's face dropped.

"Don't worry, there's nothing wrong."

"Good." Heather wasn't fully convinced however.

They were led along a maze of corridors to a sign that said 'Training Unit'. John directed them to a side office.

"Ladies, this is Trisha Waters and she's one of our training co-ordinators. I'll leave you in her capable hands."

"Good morning, Heather and Sophie. Let me get straight to the point, Heather, you haven't had any training and I understand you've had action in the field but were unprepared for it."

"That's about it."

"And you, Sophie, are a police officer with several years of protective experience but very little in field craft."

"I have had some training in covert surveillance as well."

"Right, now I'm proposing that we arrange a week for you both covering the basics."

"Where?"

"I'm told you have a property in the South-West so we're looking at a course that the Royal Navy runs in Plymouth, there's one starting in a week's time."

"I hope that doesn't include yomping across Dartmoor with a full pack?" Heather was quite concerned.

"No, it's gentler than that. I'll email you the course joining instructions."

By the time they were ready to leave it was fast approaching lunchtime, a quick decision was taken to head for London Bridge and Borough Market rather than try one of the expensive eateries in Central London. Val bumped into them in the lobby.

"Leaving?"

"Yes, we need to get some lunch."

"There's a decent restaurant a couple of floors below us, and it's not expensive."

Heather had to agree that the food quality wasn't bad but that was tempered by Val's near-constant questioning. By the time they made it to London Bridge it was nearer two in the afternoon and Heather was starting to feel tired.

She actually managed to doze off on the train, being shaken awake by Sophie as the train approached Redhill. Once indoors she again dozed.

***

On Saturday morning Heather was undecided - she wanted to make her way to Cornwall but Sophie wasn't ready to leave, plus wanted to drive down so her car was available. One complication was that the carpets were being replaced on Monday and ideally both of them were in the cottage.

In the end, Heather took the sleeper service that night so she would be back the following morning whereas Sophie was planning to leave late on Sunday after making some family visits.

Heather checked her emails before she left for the station, there was one from Trisha Waters:

From: Training Unit
To: Heather Young, Sophie Grieve
Date: Friday 17th October 2014
Subject Joining instructions - Intel fieldwork course

Heather/Sophie,

Please see the map and security instructions aside. You need to report to Devonport Dockyard in Plymouth at 0800 on Monday 27th October.

Regards,
Trisha

"Heather, do you know anything about this laptop?"

"No, no-one has said anything but this secure email is copied to you so you obviously have an account."

"In which case, what about a login and password?"

"No idea, that will have to be a phone call on Monday I guess."

"Typical."

The train journey was mostly uneventful but Heather was carrying her laptop and weapon, as well as a few home comforts and a good supply of clothing so she opted for a first class single sleeper cabin instead of using one of the standard seats. Even that didn't guarantee her uninterrupted sleep due to a fair bit of noise and shouting at Reading Station, the first stop outside London.

She peaked out through a gap in the curtain, not wishing to expose her nightie, to see a large police presence on the station. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door.

"Excuse me Miss, we're looking for someone and want to make certain they're not on the train."

"No-one here except me, officer."

"Thank you, that's fine, good night."

Quite who might have caused such a security alert was anybody's guess at this point and Heather didn't consider it essential knowledge, so returned to her bed intending to catch a few more hours if possible.

Once the train reached Exeter just after three in the morning, home of the UK Met (Meteorological) Office, the stops became more frequent. Unfortunately the train also sat at Exeter St Davids Station for over an hour, then sat stationary for half an hour when the reached Plymouth. They finally pulled into Redruth at a quarter past seven in the morning.

Although the cottage wasn't far away, Heather had enough luggage to easily justify a taxi from the station. Stepping over the mail that was waiting she dropped her case but remembered to lock her secure items away. Once that was done she went straight to bed, sending Sophie a text to confirm safe arrival.

Heather was up and showered around ten on Sunday morning and figured she would have an easy day. She had just unlocked the office door when the doorbell rang. Looking out she could see a man, perhaps in his seventies, in a tweed jacket. She opened the door.

"Ah hello, I'm with Neighbourhood Watch and I wonder if you would care to become involved? How impolite of me, I'm Colonel Jeremy Smythe, retired of course, and you are?"

"I'm Heather and I'm a little busy, Colonel Smythe, I do promise you that this cottage is fully alarmed and I am more than capable of defending myself, as is my partner."

"Oh, is he here?"

"No, she is not, but she's prepared to use lethal force in a tight situation, like unwelcome visitors."

"Oh, sorry to have bothered you."

Heather smiled as she closed the door, she'd worked out one of his prejudices and doubted if he would be back. Whether the neighbours looked at the girls as good friends or as lovers was immaterial, so long as they were left alone.

Thinking a week ahead Heather worked out the best way to reach Plymouth's naval base. She could drive but it would be nearly two hours each way in her little car along the only major road in the west of the county, and would have to pass over Bodmin Moor, a bleak and exposed lump of granite. Even Sophie's vehicle would take over ninety minutes. No, the sensible approach was the train to Plymouth, unfortunately it would be the 0605 again, every day for a week. No late nights, then.

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 11 The Smythes

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

"I don't know how you manage it?"

"I did shift work for ten years, that's how."

"So I suppose that's why I'm tired all the time, only having worked nine 'til five?"

"Maybe, but why don't you tell the doctor? It could be early menopause?"

Heather snorted her railway tea. They were on their way back from Plymouth at the end of a heavy week, although it had been mostly in the classroom. Much of the time Heather was bored and half of what she was told did not seem to have any use in her work.

It hadn't helped when she had arrived on the first day in a long skirt and heels.

"How are you going to climb over a wall in that?"

"Easy, I'm not climbing over the wall, my lingerie is not going to be on show and I'd rather not damage one of my favourite skirts."

That caused a ripple of laughter, which stopped when the instructor turned his head towards the miscreants. Apart from Heather and Sophie, there were a dozen military personnel in a variety of Royal Naval uniforms. Heather was escorted to the stores and kitted out with a couple of pairs of combat trousers, which she was expected to wear for the rest of the week. Of course, kitten heels were not appropriate either, so a pair of lace-up walking boots were also issued, along with heavy socks to replace her stockings.

"I was joking about having to go yomping on Dartmoor!"

"That can be arranged, now do you need to powder your nose or fix your make-up?" He was being sarcastic, and Heather knew it.

"Not right now, but I reserve the right to do so later."

It was obvious this instructor was not going to give Heather an easy ride for the rest of the week. Fortunately he was only one of six, covering subjects such as surveillance, counter-surveillance, camouflage, stealth, communications and weapons.

"Now, you civvies won't be doing the weapons module of this course."

"Why not?" Heather was not going to sit there and be pushed around.

"You won't be allowed weapons."

"Oh, so our firearms licences aren't any good? Oh, I forgot, we also have weapons with us."

"How did you get through the gate with those?"

"Nobody asked. Now, I would love a workout on the range, it's been a few months."

The remarks about their weapons caused a security incident and verification of their licences. One of the group joined the dots and linked the pair to the incident on The Barbican, on the far side of the city, several weeks earlier. Fortunately no-one asked Devon and Cornwall Constabulary for assistance, the Royal Navy Police just needed to confirm the legal position with The Met.

Despite one instructor's apparent best efforts to break Heather, they had both passed the course. As a bonus Heather was offered a defensive driving course near Portsmouth, but that would first have to be agreed with Jenny.

Heather had tried to return the items of clothing and boots at the end of the week but had been told to keep them. That meant she had been travelling in fatigues since Monday evening, having also gained a matching jacket and blouses. A backpack was next to her, replacing her handbag. Anyone looking would have assumed she was military, although there was no obvious insignia denoting rank or unit.

Despite Sophie's claim to the contrary, she was also knackered by the end of the week. They had been out of the door before six every morning and not back until gone seven each evening, falling into bed sometime after ten each evening.

Saturday morning was a very slow affair but they needed to do some shopping before it was too late in the day. When the doorbell rang at ten thirty, before either had made it to the shower, Sophie was the nearest to the front door, albeit still in her nightie and a silk gown.

"Hello, I'm ...."

"Yes, my partner told me about you. I'm really tired having spent a week in Plymouth and we don't want to be involved in Neighbourhood Watch. Good day to you."

She closed the door heavily.

An hour later someone was again pressing the bell-push. Heather, now dressed, swung the door open to find a young Police Constable stood there.

"Hello Miss, I understand Colonel Smythe had a rough reception and I wonder if there's anything wrong?"

"Come in Constable, Sophie's just making coffee if you'd like a mug?"

"Thanks. Now, I hope I don't need to tell you that you ladies could be vulnerable here?"

"Please spare me the sexist dribble. You obviously know nothing about us?"

"Your names are on the Force Intelligence System but the records are locked so I'm none the wiser."

"So you looked us up? Naughty." Sophie walked in with a tray.

"For the past week you've been out of here before the sun was up and back after dark, wearing military clothing too."

"Is that a crime? Let me guess, the curtain twitchers are concerned we're up to something."

"I've had one or two enquiries."

"Sophie, how do we deal with this? Do we have video of them staring through the windows, looking for gaps in the curtains?"

"Probably, Heather, I haven't reviewed the past week's recordings yet."

"How many cameras do you have?" This was news to the Constable.

"Six I think, but you won't be able to find them. We value our security, you see."

The officer sipped his coffee, uncertain of what he might now achieve from the cautious pair.

"Maybe you could provide us with video evidence if there were any incidents in the street?"

"Perhaps but we don't want anyone to know about the cameras so making that kind of offer might adversely affect our security, ironic isn't it?"

"I can see where you're coming from but you could be great assets to the community here."

"Sophie, I think we need to clarify something?"

Sophie showed him her Metropolitan Police warrant, which confused him as she was currently living nowhere near London.

"Ah, I see, DS Grieve. I wonder if you could tell me what you are doing in our small town?"

"We're on a special project looking at corruption in small communities, aren't we Heather."

"Yes, I'm an accountant investigating bribes and unusual payments."

"Now, unfortunately you cannot tell Colonel Smythe, nor anyone else, anything you have learnt here. Our aim is to have a peaceful existence." Sophie had an afterthought.

"Constable, you didn't tell us your name?"

"Sorry, it's PC Smythe."

"He's your father?"

"Grandfather."

"Officer, this is an unforgivable breach of protocol, which I am minded to report." Sophie had turned serious. "I suggest you leave before I ring someone very senior. Any leak concerning our work as a result of this conversation will be dealt with by way of disciplinary procedure, you have my word on it. I would add that there may well be a camera and microphone in this lounge, the recording could certainly be available if it were requested."

As the officer quickly departed Sophie spotted Smythe senior lurking at the end of the street. His grandson had just risked his police career over misplaced loyalty to his grandfather. Much as she would like to confront the Colonel, enough damage had been done, for now.

The rest of the weekend passed quietly, November had started cold and damp, a very different arrangement to the few days previously, so any idea about going to one of the Cornish coasts was shelved. Once they returned from the Saturday afternoon madness in Tesco there was no great desire to head back out. Sunday was also a simple day, with both of them lounging in onesies for the day whilst the washing machine played catch-up.

***

On Monday, both got down to work, of sorts. Jenny had received the training report from Devonport Naval Base and was now hoping that Heather wouldn't take risks but didn't believe that any training could inspire rational thought in someone like Heather. Also in her email she approved the defensive driving course but noted that this wasn't likely to happen before Christmas.

Heather had made an appointment a week or so earlier with one of the local GPs, Dr Rachel Wilson and was now sat in the surgery, her three month prescription for birth control pills was almost up.

"Hello Miss Young, I must say I am a little surprised now I have read your medical record."

"Really?"

"Yes, it seems you tore up the transgender rule book. However, there's none of your earlier medical history available either, that tells me that you are a little mystery."

"Please don't try to solve this mystery, I have a habit of becoming annoyed if anyone digs too deep."

"Okay, I might be able to offer anger management if that's a real issue. Otherwise, apart from a new prescription, what else can I do for you?"

"I've been feeling tired rather alot recently."

"What have you been doing?"

"A week long course with the Royal Navy at Devonport, several return trips to London, we moved home recently and spent a week working on St Mary's before that."

"Hmmm, let's take some bloods then I would like to give you a physical." That resulted in the Doctor advising her to go back to taking iron tablets, the supply Doctor Hughes had obtained for her had run out several weeks earlier.

"Is there anything else you need to ask?"

"I've been thinking about enhancement." She cupped her boobs, not that it was strictly necessary. Heather was bordering on a B cup so wasn't regularly using inserts any more but the Doctor warned her to buy some new bras in order to avoid back problems.

"If you've managed growth like that in three months then there is, or was, a hormonal reason, I wouldn't recommend surgery as you don't know what size you'll be in another three or six months with continued natural development. The bloods will tell us more."

"My previous GP, Dr Hughes, said there was a hormonal problem probably due to damage to my testes before puberty. As you've already discovered, they have since been removed."

That had satisfied the Doctor although she did her best to take a full medical history. Heather was happier when she left, after making a follow-up appointment, she stopped by the local pharmacy and picked up the next three months supply of birth control pills, plus a tub of iron tablets.

Sophie, meanwhile, was placing orders for covert surveillance equipment, ensuring she had a ready stock. The Met Police had arranged for the last order but now she had to obtain them commercially, albeit from companies that didn't deal directly with the public.

On Tuesday morning there was a telephone conference with DIs Keane and Edmunds plus Jenny. New intelligence on the threat to the UK's air infrastructure was still very sketchy, with no locations, dates or additional names. It was very frustrating. Heather did discover, however, that the security scare at Reading Station had been a possible sighting of Kelmendi, the last time anyone had come even close to locating him. The hunt continued.

***

Wednesday lunchtime Sophie drove them to Penzance Harbour for the early afternoon ferry across to St Mary's. Inland Revenue inspectors had been going through the accounts of St Mary's Chandlers for a couple of days and had requested, or virtually ordered, Heather to be there.

It had already been her intention to return, if only to help the employees' wives sort out the financial mess that the former Personnel Manager Steve Daly had created. She also wanted an update on the police investigation as very little information was forthcoming through other channels.

No-one knew the car they were travelling in as they'd been in a hire van several weeks earlier but as soon as Sophie parked outside their, now regular, B&B a few eyes turned in their direction. Not all were friendly.

Scotty & Billy (Jnr) Trethgarwyn were sat on a nearby wall and watched intently as the two ladies carried overnight bags into the guest house. Not far behind them was Sgt Marc Taylor, keeper of the peace on the small island. He walked up and had a few words in the boys' ears, causing them to clear the area.

When Heather and Sophie ventured back out, having freshened up, they found Marc Taylor near the harbour. The day was dry but the air was turning chilly despite the island's extreme South West position in the UK, it wasn't a good idea to stand still for too long.

"Hello ladies, I heard you'd be back today."

"Plainly your intelligence network is running a little better that last time we were here." Heather wanted to mark her ground.

"I appreciate what you're saying but the pair of you could have been completely open with me."

"Marc, we can't speak in the open, but have you seen the two brats?" Sophie was mindful of being overheard but wanted to check their security first.

"Billy and Scotty? Yes, I warned them off a little while ago. They've been bothering folk in the town for the last week and were caught shoplifting twice so earned an ASBO each with the requirement that they don't loiter anywhere."

"That's useful but what about their father? He's a different problem."

"You're right, we can't talk in the open. I'm out on patrol now but will be in the station for a tea break at five, come and see me then."

Their meeting with the Revenue team was the following morning so the pair had little to day this afternoon, leaving a few hours to kill before their appointment at the police station. A wander to a coffee shop seemed appropriate but wasn't necessarily the best way to meet some of the locals.

"You're back!"

"Hello." Heather decided that the minimalist approach might be best.

"So why are you here? White coffee?"

"Yes please, two, we were told to be here."

"I thought you were the head of whatever it is?"

"No, as I said, I'm an accountant. I've been told the Inland Revenue want to interview me and I guess it won't be pleasant, it never is."

"Here's your coffees, that's three quid please."

It seemed that everyone in the café had heard Heather's explanation and did have some sympathy because she had been summoned by the government's most hated department - a common enemy since the days of the Domesday Book in the eleventh century. Apart from a few whispers and furtive looks in their direction it was a safe and mostly pleasant way to pass half an hour. Any chance of keeping a low profile on the island had, however, gone.

They went back to the B&B and broke out the communication kit to check emails, although it was another attempt to use up time, as well as staying off the streets. Finally, not long before five, they walked the few streets to the police station. A civilian officer was behind the counter.

"Hello, we have a meeting with Sgt Taylor," Sophie offered.

"I'm afraid he's busy."

"He told us to be here at five when he came off patrol."

"We'll I'm afraid he's busy. If it's a complaint please ring this number." She handed over a card, giving the force's Truro number.

"Well, here's my card, I'm DS Grieve of New Scotland Yard. Now, we would like to see Sgt Taylor."

"Oh, I was expecting a man."

"You couldn't ask our names? I'd also expect a better excuse than that seeing as it's 2014 not 1974."

The security door next to the counter was opened to allow Heather and Sophie to pass, then immediately latched behind them. They were led to Sgt Taylor's office and quickly abandoned there without introduction.

"What's up with my front desk officer?"

"She tried to turn us away then reckoned she was expecting a man."

"Oh dear, she's new and has only worked in Penzance before here. She's already had an inspector and two Special Branch turn up this week without warning. Of course the SB officers weren't in uniform either."

"No excuse, though, although I'd question her training."

"Perhaps, anyway, we're not here to discuss my staff are we?"

***

The briefing went well with Heather able to disclose some information about the wider investigation into terrorist activity. Marc was certainly concerned to hear that one of Europe's most wanted had been staying in his harbour overnight before the trip to Newlyn.

One aspect that did come out was that Marc, or his team, would immediately start to regularly visit every seaworthy boat on St Mary's plus any visitors so that his island wasn't seen as an easy route for smugglers, regardless of the cargo.

For Heather and Sophie, they learned that the Inspector who'd visited was the same they'd encountered at Treliske Hospital but were unsure if they'd come across the Special Branch officers. Marc wasn't even certain what they were doing on St Mary's.

They finally left the station at six and returned to the guest house for a meal and an earlyish night.

***

Thursday morning was overcast and damp, not a good sign if you believe in such things. They made it to St Mary's Chandlers at eight thirty just as Peter Cookson arrived.

"We don't open until nine as we're on winter hours, but come in anyway."

The settled in the CEO's office whilst other members of his staff arrived, although there seemed to be fewer than last time Heather was here.

"Yes, it seems that one of the sales team was stealing stock so he could sell it himself at a discounted price and pocket the money."

"Oh, I missed that."

"I'd only just taken him on when you were here in October so it wouldn't have shown up. Unfortunately for him we did a complete stock check last week and spotted the discrepancies. He was related to Steve Daly but we didn't know that at the time either."

"We understand that Mr Daly is in prison pending trial?" She had, of course, been given this much by Sgt Taylor.

"Yes, Heather, it seems he had a prior conviction for fraud and had booked tickets out of the country for the day after he was arrested."

"In that case, bail would appear to be unlikely."

"What I don't understand is how you managed to get a copy of all of his files before he wiped his PC?"

"Not difficult if you know what you're doing, I had a suspicion he was hiding data from you."

"Too true. Fortunately he hadn't got around to transferring the majority of the money he had sidelined into his personal account, just five thousand was missing."

"That sounds like enough to buy air tickets to somewhere exotic plus to test the waters ready for the main transfer? He must have been planning this for some time?"

"That's what the Revenue think, they should be here about quarter to ten as they're catching the eight thirty ferry from Penzance, same as yesterday when they were first here."

That seemed fairly typical of the Inland Revenue, their inspectors wouldn't stay overnight where they were working but would travel daily, probably from Truro in this case. At least Peter Cookson wasn't upset with the result of Heather's investigation, despite the risk that he could have lost the company that his great grandfather had founded. When the tax team did arrive Heather was taken to be interviewed by one of the junior inspectors.

"There's no record of you having accountancy qualifications."

Helen was supposed to have fixed that. "You probably weren't looking in the right place."

"That's not a helpful answer."

"Running background checks on me instead of asking me about the company's finances is not helpful either."

"Also you didn't have any NI or tax contributions before this year, but the rest of your record is locked."

"This interview is over."

"If you leave I'll ....."

"Go fetch one of the senior officers, I'm not leaving but you are."

It wasn't the best way to start an interview that might be used in court proceedings but Heather couldn't risk exposure. A woman entered the room.

"I hope you didn't upset one of my staff just to make a point? I understand that you didn't exist before this summer."

"What's your security clearance?"

"Why?"

"Because if it isn't high enough I can't say a thing."

"What level does it need to be?"

"If that's your answer then I can already tell it's not probably high enough. All I'll say is that I am working for another government department. My colleague is an officer with the Met's Counter Terrorism Unit."

"Next you'll be telling me you're a ruddy Janet Bond and you have a Beretta in your handbag?"

"No, don't be silly." Of course, it's a Glock. "Right, that's enough, call off the goons and stop looking into my past as you won't find it. If necessary I'll have someone ring your management, I'm the one who asked for a three week delay before your team arrived."

"That request came from .... oh. No-one knows about the reason for the delay, my team are moaning but don't know why it was delayed and I couldn't tell them."

"Okay, that's better. Can we talk about my investigation into St Mary's Chandlers now?"

When Heather emerged she smiled at the young officer who had started on her, but the senior officer went over an whispered a few words, which had him shaking his head. Heather could only guess what had been said.

Sophie hadn't been interviewed as she wasn't involved in the financial side of the case, although that didn't stop her talking to people, particularly the former boat crew. She caught up with Heather when they broke for lunch.

"I've spoken to some of the crew, the Special Branch officers have been at them, threatening the crew with all sorts of offences to get them to talk."

"How many of them were really involved?"

"Only about five, the night crew plus two from the day crew including Denison. None of the others knew anything for certain."

"So how many are really prepared to talk?"

"I've found three so far and they've told me what they suspect went on, how the night crew was invitation only, as were some of the Penzance trips."

"That figures, I bet they're bitter about the wages."

"Especially how they haven't had a salary for over three weeks, it was normally cash on a Friday afternoon. How's the boat situation coming along?"

"The transfer was done using forged documents, Peter Cookson's solicitor is asking for it to be nulled and the ownership reverted."

"Good, that will please the crew - such as it remains. One of the other boats here is managing the lobster pots and taking a percentage of the catch as a fee."

"That makes sense for now, and maybe for the future too given the cost of diesel and a second crew. The economics dictate that one crew is sufficient for the boat with activity limited to tendering, diving and fishing trips. Did you know there were sharks in these waters?"

"No, come on - let's get a pasty, we haven't had one for a week or two!"

***

They drove back to Redruth on Friday afternoon having done their best to help the CEO of St Mary's Chandlers sort out his company finances. It would, unfortunately, take some time to recover the monies his former Human Resources / Personnel Officer had taken as the court process had to happen first but the company reserves were just sufficient to cover any temporary shortfall.

In the meantime there was almost enough in the hidden side account to settle the entire tax and National Insurance demands regarding to the crew salaries. It did however seem that Billy Trethgarwyn Senior and John Denison, the two captains, had received additional payments every few weeks. Given that this was over and above the agreed salary Heather calculated that the company owed a reduced amount of tax on their behalf, the rest would have to come from the 'overpayments'.

The Inland Revenue Inspectors hadn't been happy with this arrangement as they would now have to pursue the two captains for the balance of the back taxes but Heather had made a good case.

This helped Peter Cookson reduce the company's liability to a few thousand pounds, for which he was grateful. With her job done, Heather had, however, presented her own bill, explaining that she would have to prepare court papers if called by the prosecution. Peter hadn't considered this but paid the £3000 that Heather had invoiced, agreeing that it was a final figure.

One piece of good news was that the Maritime and Coastguard Agency in Cardiff had accepted that the change of ownership was fraudulent and would supply documents confirming this to the Criminal Prosecution Service. This then permitted the Police to release the boat, removing the arrest notice, finally allowing the vessel to return to Peter Cookson's care. He took the opportunity to have the boat immediately lifted out of the water for the annual inspection and hull clean.

The girls had passed the, high & dry, Chandlers' Boy on their way to the ferry for the crossing to Penzance, that reminded Sophie to bring Heather up to date now that they couldn't be overheard.

"I spoke to two more of the crew this afternoon, they say a new smuggling route has been opened into Falmouth and they'd both been asked if they wanted to join the crew but had declined."

"We'll have to send that up the line, but did you fancy a trip to Trago Mills at the weekend, if memory serves me right it's in Falmouth."

It had taken the pair of them a couple of hours to finalise their reports on Friday evening, once back at the cottage, so any interest in cooking dissipated. This meant that Heather was now strolling towards the local Chinese take-away, whilst Sophie sorted out the dishes and a chilled bottle of white.

"I don't think you'll be in this town much longer." Heather spun around to find Colonel Smythe right behind her.

"I don't care for your attitude and I have no time to play games."

"You Londoners won't fit in here, why not go back there now."

"I take it you have no-one else to bother? Frankly, I find your attitude childish, you should have stuck to tin soldiers."

She walked swiftly away, contemplating heading straight home but instead continued to the local Chinese. She'd pre-ordered so it was almost ready for collection. In a moment of common sense she phoned Sophie, asking her to meet up, suitably equipped.

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 12 Harbouring Trouble

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

Smythe had been waiting for Heather when she left the local Chinese takeaway, laden with hot food; no doubt his intention was to intimidate her. Heather spotted him lurking in the shadows so took the offensive, her training coming in useful for once.

"Come into the light Colonel, we can't have you jumping out at defenceless ladies? Can we?" She teased.

"You need to be taught a lesson in politeness."

"Go home and play with your toys, I'm tired after a long day and want my supper."

"So, have an early night and go back to London in the morning."

"Why?"

"Because you're not welcome here, I don't know what you're up to but you have frightened my poor grandson something rotten and that deserves retribution."

"Thank you for clarifying that. I can go home now, my home here."

"You bitch!" He went to grab Heather as she turned away but she sidestepped causing Smythe to land heavily on the cobbled street. Sophie meanwhile finished recording the scene and put the camera away, then met with Heather as the Neighbourhood Watch Co-ordinator was still trying to get back on his feet.

She took her partner's hand. "Here we go Heather, was that nasty man bothering you? Let's go home."

There was no time like the present to deal with this so Sophie called Devon and Cornwall Police and explained they were being harassed and had video evidence. The wine remained in the fridge and the oven kept the food warm whilst they waited for the officer, nibbling at the prawn crackers. It was obviously a quiet night as an officer was with them half an hour later.

The package Sophie had put together was excellent, a few days earlier she had found video of the two occasions Smythe had found them indoors, plus the many times he'd knocked whilst they were out, including the curtain peeking attempts and even a torchlight inspection of the back yard from over the fence. Finally there was that evening's recording and that of his grandson digging a huge hole for himself in their lounge a few days earlier.

The Police Constable who visited that evening did not know the Smythes but immediately realised the significance of the evidence, promising that this would be taken 'upstairs' as soon as he spoke to a senior officer.

Heather felt bad about what they had just done but Sophie reassured her.

"Smythe is a bully, there's likely to be quite a few around here who are frightened of him. He's probably also responsible for people leaving the town, just as he tried on you. I also bet he regularly used his grandson as a source, the days when that behaviour was acceptable have long gone."

"If you say so, can I have a cuddle?"

“No, I'm hungry, where's that Chinese?”

***

Saturday started with a phone call from an Inspector at Truro Police Station.

"Good morning Miss Young, this is Inspector Willis, it's concerning your complaint."

"Good morning Inspector, it was my partner DS Grieve who put in the complaint. Anyway, seeing as you know my name, have we met?"

"Yes, several times, it was just my luck to be the duty Inspector this morning and I recognised your voice." He laughed.

"Ah, I remember, Treliske Hospital."

"Guilty as charged."

"Okay, now we know who we are, what's happening?"

"Albert Smythe has been interviewed and investigations are ongoing."

"Albert? Do you mean Colonel Smythe?"

"His rank was self-appointed apparently."

"Oh, I wonder where he got that pomposity from?"

"He was station master at Newton Abbot, but I never told you that!"

"That would make him a Devonian then, oh dear - I wonder what would happen to his local standing if that information came out?"

"I see you're adapting to the Cornish way of thinking, Miss Young."

"I'm a fast learner, but it's always possible I have Cornish ancestry?"

"Worth looking into, it certainly helps down here."

"Now, what about your young Constable Smythe?"

"He's currently suspended and will be in front of a disciplinary board in due course, probably."

"I do feel sorry for him, he was most likely bullied into visiting us to obtain information."

"I can understand that but other complaints have now been made, which I can't disclose."

"Understandable, Inspector."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No thank you, but I appreciate your call."

"Not at all, are you planning anything today?"

"No, just going down to Trago Mills at Falmouth, why?"

"I need to make sure the appropriate response teams are in the right places."

***

"Sophie, do you think he was being serious?"

"Of course not, but we'll change our plans just in case."

"Now, are you kidding me?"

"No, there's no way we could carry out any discrete surveillance if there's a uniformed unit nearby, even if no-one knows why they're there."

"So?"

"Let's do a jigsaw."

If anyone had really been keeping tabs on Heather and Sophie then they would have wasted their weekend. The girls dutifully submitted a joint report to Emily and Jenny covering the Smythe family encounters, complete with the video package before joining the many raiding parties heading for Tesco.

Back indoors the slow cooker was loaded with the evening's meal before a five thousand piece jigsaw was pulled out of a box. The spacious coffee table in the lounge was cleared of any detritus, then it became serious.

***

What was odd on Sunday morning, when Heather went to collect the newspapers, were the number of nods and silent thanks she received. They were achieving acceptance in the community because someone had challenged the local bigotry, how ironic.

Back indoors she sat with the Sunday edition of the Western Morning News, perusing the local news before that weekend's Observer. On page two she caught sight of a short story:
 

Police quiet about ongoing operation in Falmouth

 
There were scant details other than the operation was centred in Falmouth harbour and had started the previous teatime. She showed the article to Sophie, having checked there was nothing similar in The Observer. A Google News search for 'Falmouth' had similarly returned only the one recent result.

"What do you think?"

"On the basis of that information, nothing much. I'd admit it would be a huge co-incidence based on what you said to that Inspector and our maybe tip-off but we had no definite information and neither did Devon and Cornwall Constabulary, as far as I know."

Much later in the day, the local BBC South West Today news bulletin repeated that an operation was ongoing, adding that the police were not releasing any details before Monday.

Around 8pm the phone rang, a tired-sounding Inspector Willis apologised for the late call.

"Could you both be at Truro Police Station at eleven in the morning for a press conference?" He rang off before Heather could voice her objections.

"What are we going to do?"

"Heather, calm down, firstly we don't know if Inspector Willis intends to put us in front of the press or whether it relates to this investigation in Falmouth or maybe even the St Mary's case."

"But St Mary's is finished?"

"The ground work should be complete, it may just be he wants us to give his team a briefing?"

"We can't do that without Jenny and Emily's agreement, can we?"

"No, but we can't give that as a reason in public, not even to Inspector Willis. We need to know why we're wanted in Truro tomorrow before we have a clear idea of what we can say or do. Remember, your cover is as an accountant so it's not unreasonable for you to appear at a press conference."

"But usually only if the client doesn't object, there's always an issue of confidentiality of course."

"Well, why don't you go upstairs and send an email to our illustrious leaders explaining what we know, maybe they can find something out for us, we need to be out of shortly after ten if we do have to drive over to Truro so explain we need an answer by ten latest."

"Okay, but I have a nine o'clock appointment with Doctor Wilson."

"Can you postpone it?"

"Not until nine in the morning when the surgery opens, so I might just as well be there."

"Oh well. Best send that email while the information's fresh."

***

"So how are you feeling today Heather?"

"If you're asking whether I'm feeling tired then the answer is no, the iron tablets appear to be working."

"That's good, but there's something troubling you, isn't there?"

"Yes, but it's not medical. I've been called to a police press conference this morning and I don't know why."

"That would get me worried too, so that's nothing strange. Anyway, I have your bloods back and your red cell count was down but that should have been corrected by the iron tablets. I have also been able to obtain earlier blood results from Dr Hughes once I found him, he works for the Metropolitan Police and the Home Office. Anyway, the results he sent had no name on them so I'll assume they were taken under a different name."

"You know I can't answer that."

"I guessed so; the earlier results showed a similar issue before you started iron supplements so I can't see a long-term problem here, although I will take some more blood today for confirmation."

Heather finally left at nine thirty, after promising to persuade Sophie to make an appointment for herself. She spotted Albert (formerly Colonel) Smythe at the end of the street, she could have sworn he snarled at her. It mattered not as she turned down a side road towards the cottage.

Inside, Sophie was in the office and checking for an email reply but the secure phone started ringing instead.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Sophie, it's Emily."

"Hello, what have you found out?"

"Not much, they're being very cagey. I have warned the duty Inspector that any actions likely to expose your activities will result in a summons to New Scotland Yard, but that didn't faze him."

"What's your advice then?"

"I'd say that you go along with this Inspector Willis' request but you do not have to be put in front of the press nor say anything you shouldn't. See what intel you can find out whilst you're in the building, however, and treat this as an opportunity."

"Okay, boss."

The call ended before Heather let herself in through the front door at nine forty, Sophie was already on her way down the stairs.

"Hi honey, I'm home!"

"Come on Heather, this isn't an American sitcom."

"Maybe not but I'm in a good mood."

"Oh dear, that could be dangerous. Coffee?"

"Please."

They headed to the kitchen where Sophie brought Heather up to date.

"So we have to go?"

"No, we don't have to do anything but Emily wants us to investigate, learn anything we can."

"Okay, I best get my face sorted."

She was walking past the house phone when it rang.

"Ah, Miss Young?"

"Inspector?"

"Yes, I'll be sending a car for you at ten fifteen so please be ready."

"Thanks for the offer but we still don't know what you have in mind and whether we can trust you?"

"That's cruel, can you allow me to say that I think you'll enjoy the experience? I'll see you soon."

He rang off. Sophie had been close enough to hear the conversation, but just shrugged.

***

"Good morning I am Inspector Willis, and welcome to the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary weekly press conference, being held today in Truro. As usual we'll take limited questions after each item but please bear in mind that time is limited."

Inspector Willis had apologised to Heather for teasing her but explained she would not be put in front of the cameras or even asked to speak to the press without her permission. Her and Sophie were now stood at the back of the room that hosted the press conference.

"Our first item is the weekend's operation in Falmouth. This is an expansion of an exercise which started last week in the Scilly Isles to inspect licensing for small boats as well as checking for evidence of smuggling. This weekend has seen a large scale boat survey in Falmouth, working alongside our colleagues from HM Coastguard along with HM Revenue and Customs, which resulted in eight arrests for a variety of offences. Enquiries are continuing and we would expect to see more arrests in the near future."

There were a barrage of questions from the journalists, which the Inspector answered.

"Yes, Customs are talking to a number of people concerning the alleged importation of narcotics and misuse of marine diesel in road vehicles but that's all I can say on the matter as unfortunately they didn't have anyone available for this press conference.

“We have also located several missing boats as well as identifying stolen outboard motors and other equipment. It was a good result and the teams are to be applauded. This will be an on-running operation against maritime crime and we'll be visiting as many of the smaller ports as possible, including Mousehole, Looe and Penmarris over the next few weeks."

There were a few more questions then Inspector Willis moved onto other items before finishing.

"Finally, the proposal for the operation in Falmouth came from this officer, Sgt Taylor of St Mary's," Marc walked into the room and took a seat next to the Inspector. "Sgt Taylor explained to me that he was conducting virtually a one man survey on St Mary's but some of the West Cornwall ports would be good places to look for smuggling routes as well as recovering stolen maritime equipment. I then found out that it was Sgt Taylor's twenty-fifth anniversary in the Police Service this week."

He paused and gestured Marc to stand.

"I'd like to present you with a long service award to mark your quarter-century with the Police, almost all of which has been with Devon & Cornwall Constabulary."

He handed over a plaque and shook Marc's hand, immediately the room was filled with camera flashes and shouted requests for comments. Marc uttered a few words but wasn't that keen on talking to the press.

As the press were escorted off the premises Inspector Willis and Sgt Taylor came over to the girls, who both gave him a hug and a kiss.

"Don't embarrass me in front of the boss, please!"

"Now, Marc, you're now off duty, as I will be shortly, why don't we all reconvene in the City Inn across the road in a few minutes?"

"I need to get back to St Mary's for the afternoon shift?"

"That's been covered, now enjoy yourself for once and we'll have you back there for this evening."

The City Inn was on the same road as the police station, just on the far side of the main Penzance railway line, so they were stood in the bar a few minutes later.

One of the journalists who had been in the press conference walked over as soon as the first group had their drinks.

"Hello Sgt Taylor, I'm Vic Harris from the Western Morning Herald, do you mind if I ask a few more questions?"

"I'm afraid I do mind, I'm now off duty and with friends."

"Ah, yes, I saw you in the press conference but you didn't say anything?"

"That's right and we're not saying anything now. Good bye." Sophie was not happy to see the reporter.

"That's not very polite, I don't even have your names."

"And you're not going to get them, please leave."

Inspector Willis walked in, although he was still in uniform, and ordered an orange juice. He spotted Vic Harris and warned him to stay away.

"I hope he wasn't a problem?"

"He was becoming a nuisance."

"He has a tendency to do that, anyway I had a message passed to me when I reached my office, concerning the two of you."

"Really?" Heather could guess what was coming.

"It appears someone in London is making sure I don't take advantage of you."

"I wouldn't put it that way, you just didn't come clean with us as to why we are here today so we had to inform our managers."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie could see the reporter now had a mobile phone in his hand. She checked that Heather had her back to him as Sophie reached inside her bag for a little device, enabling it.

"Inspector? I guess we'll lunch here but are we expecting others?"

"Please call me Bob, and yes to both questions."

"Could I suggest we move to a quieter area then, in case anyone starts to talk 'shop' with that reporter nearby.

They stood and found Vic Harris quite close but having obvious trouble with his phone. The group moved to a restaurant area and commandeered several tables whilst Sophie went to the bar to explain what they were doing. She made certain the reporter wasn't far away from her until he decided to leave the pub having failed to get what he wanted.

There was a gentle flow of well-wishers who went into the City Inn either on their way into work or on their way home. A few stayed for lunch and a drink but few enjoyed the real ale, wines or other alcoholic beverages available. By consent, the girls just had one glass of white each with their lunch.

Sophie finally switched off the jammer, when she spotted several customers trying to make calls. Almost immediately her own phone beeped, it was showing a security alert at the cottage.

"Inspector, Bob, we have a security alert at our cottage, someone has tripped the sensors in the garden and they're still there."

"You'll need to ring it in."

"Our security control will already have done that and given that there are several sensitive items there this will be treated very seriously, we need to get there."

The inspector's phone rang. "Hello, I thought I was off duty? Oh, I understand - on my way."

"Apparently I'm the only senior officer cleared to the appropriate level, we best get moving."

Thankfully they weren't running a tab and had paid for drinks and food as they went along so leaving in a hurry wasn't going to create a problem later. As they came out of the far side of the tunnel under the railway line a police vehicle was waiting outside Castle House, home of Truro's police station. Sophie spoke to the driver.

"Are you pursuit trained?"

"No."

"Bob, Inspector, I'm qualified, five years with diplomatic and royalty protection."

"Get in the front then, Constable I'll still need you to drive me back so sit with Miss Young in the back and keep your hands where I can see them!"

The ten miles should have taken twenty or more minutes along the but Sophie managed it in fourteen although the rear seat constable was not comfortable and looked like he was going to ask to get out.

Another unit had arrived at the cottage in the meantime and were wondering how to retrieve the young Arabic looking man who was refusing to leave the walled garden and evading attempts to persuade him. There were an increasing number of people squeezed into the lane that ran behind the dwellings and so far none of the police had dropped into the garden themselves.

Neither if the girls fancied the idea of a chase, Buster Keaton style, through the cottage or rampaging police officers trampling across the pristine lounge; their jigsaw was still on the coffee table, incomplete.

Figuring the intruder could come out the way he went in Sophie moved away from the others to speak to the plainly frightened young man. She reached out her hand, as a friendly gesture.

"Out!"

He complied immediately, surprising the uniformed, male, officers. Given that no-one was trying anything more than stereotypical loud English in attempting to communicate with the lad, Sophie tried a few languages to find out his name. It turned out that he spoke French, of the Maghreb variety.

"He's Ahmed Malek, Algerian, his family own the Malek Kebab take-away in town. I think you'll find he'll give you a name when you interview him."

***

The next few days saw some activity in Redruth as Albert Smythe was given a suspended sentence of twenty eight days by the local magistrates for antisocial and threatening behaviour plus issued with an ASBO. Ahmed Malek was not prosecuted as Heather and Sophie did not want to attract any more attention. By the end of the week a For Sale sign was outside the Smythe home and he was travelling back over the border into Devon, one nasty rumour said he was heading to Penmarris but that quickly changed to Torquay.

What took longer to deal with was the aftermath of the security alert. Jenny needed a full report, then insisted the police provided a report - meaning that Inspector Bob Willis had to prepare it. Of course, that also meant agreeing that he could not report on anything he might have learned whilst at the cottage.

Heather and Sophie settled down into a more peaceful existence, once Jimmy Ruddle's security team had checked over the cottage systems. One extra security measure, following the incident, was the addition of trellising along the walls, covered in a thorny vine. High tech it wasn't.

Heather was now handling research into some data that Jenny had sent down, looking for patterns where none existed whilst Sophie was visiting some of the Cornish ports that that looked promising, avoiding those that had just been inspected by the local Constabulary.

***

Sophie was in the beautiful fishing port of Mevagissey a week later, wandering by the harbour with a camera and a notebook, when Vic Harris, a local journalist, walked up to her.

"You're taking a keen interest in boats and you seem pretty chummy with the police, so who are you?"

"Right now I'm a Cornish resident visiting a lovely fishing village and I guess that makes you someone who wants to ruin my day."

"Come on, you and that lady friend of yours are very friendly with the plod and did I see you driving a police car with the blue lights turned on?"

"I have no idea what you saw, please excuse me."

Sophie walked bristly away, but was aware that this time the reporter was able to snatch a few photos of her. She walked into the Harbour Tavern and ordered a coffee, sitting by a window overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It seemed unlikely the reporter would disappear soon so Sophie's coffee break turned into a lunch break whilst she made notes.

At this time of the year the number of tourists was low, but you could still hear English, American, Australian and many other voices. Some were following the tourist trail, others reclaiming lost heritage. Of course sometimes it's a load of codswallop, there is no personal heritage, but does it matter so long as everyone enjoys themselves?

Not enjoying himself, however, was Vic Harris. He was not on expenses and had left a packed lunch in his car which was parked in the River Street Car Park, a few streets back from the harbour. In the end, a need to use the public loos, plus a desire for his, now, lukewarm coffee and a lousy sandwich dragged Vic away from his observation post. Sophie saw him walking away, up the narrow lane beside the pub, and had driven out of the village before he had reached his car.

Fortunately he hadn't seen which car she'd arrived in so spent half an hour of wasted time after his lunch looking for her before giving up.

Sophie drove the short distance into St Austell, not wishing to declare the day a write-off, and headed to Charlestown in Carlyon Bay to have a look at the boats there. A few chats with the locals told her that the local police and Customs operation hadn't reached here as yet.

What she found was a near complacency to visiting yachts and pleasure craft with no local suspicions to strangers, given the vibrant tourist trade. There was also a large population of retired folk from elsewhere in the UK - and further afield - taking advantage of the exceptional climate that Cornwall enjoys most of the year.

This concerned Sophie as it was plainly good conditions for illicit activities, so long as repeat arrivals by the same boat didn't arouse suspicion. She pondered this and surveyed the larger boats in the harbour.

One was registered in St Malo, France, another was from Antwerp, Belgium, plus the usual smattering of English, Welsh and Irish tubs. None of the locals, when asked, were familiar with any but the more local boats and hadn't seen the foreign boats before.

Sophie's day changed when a gin palace breezed into the bay from the West, dropping an anchor in the deeper water some way from her position before lowering a rigid inflatable into the water from the stern. Sophie's long lens captured the name of the boat - 'Ventureur' - registered in St Helier, Channel Islands.

The RIB sped across the bay to a beach on the eastern side with two individuals on board, dropped a passenger plus a large sports bag on the beach then returned to the Ventureur. Sofie's camera captured them but, given the distance, the images were not the highest quality.

The entire operation, from arrival to recovery of the RIB and departure, took fifteen minutes and stunk like hell. On the far side of the bay the passenger had disappeared, if he'd been picked up by a car then she hadn't seen it.

Enquiries with locals didn't help, many hadn't seen the drop and no-one knew the boat concerned. Sensing that she might not achieve much more Sophie walked back to her car and drove home. The following day they were off to London, thankfully not on the early train. She would have to see if the mystery passenger could be identified.

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To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle