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.

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 13 Christmas Is Cancelled Final Part

First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
 

During a previous meeting, at the Security Service, in late November, the suggestion was that Heather and Sophie hand back the Redhill house given how little time they were spending in the London area.

However, in early December one of Duran Kelmendi's associates, Alban Berisha, had been found in the UK. A British woman, Tara Smart, had been identified arriving in the UK with Berisha along with cash and drugs. Both had been arrested.

This was potentially excellent intelligence for the terrorism investigation Detective Inspector Kevin Edmunds was leading, but Berisha was apparently saying nothing and Kelmendi was still missing.

The belief was that Berisha was the money man as he was carrying a substantial quantity of Euros plus a commercial quantity of cocaine, whereas Kelmendi was an explosives expert.

Heather was sat in one of the secure meeting rooms in Thames House, a few days before Christmas, waiting for things to get going. This meeting had been postponed from the previous Friday and Jenny wasn't yet ready to start, several hours late.

She'd spent most of the previous fortnight in and around London attending meetings but this was the first time she and Jenny had sat down together for several weeks.

The previous evening had been hard as Heather had stayed at the Redhill house on her own, Sophie having already returned to Cornwall as she had a Monday meeting of her own. Right now Heather was planning to take the sleeper service from London's Paddington station.

Finally Jenny arrived and closed the door.

"Jenny, what can you tell me?"

"As you know, there's nothing in Tara Smart's accounts to indicate a close involvement but her husband is a banker, currently resident in Thurso. His finances, and that of his daughter are complex to say the least, both millionaires. Tara had started divorce proceedings recently so may be angling for cash. She's been bailed and Berisha is remanded to Belmarsh Prison."

"There's not much here that makes sense, is Tara Smart aware of what he's up to?"

"She's not admitted to anything other than being a fool, he had given her an Italian name when they met, at her hotel in Lausanne so it looks like she was being used."

"Okay, is there an update about the man Sophie saw in Carlyon Bay?" Fortunately one photo of the man was good enough to be enhanced.

"We still don't have a name for him, his photo has been distributed to all airports but it's unknown if we'll see him again or ever put a name to him, although we've asked our European counterparts to help."

"Right, did anything come of the boat, the Ventureur?"

"As you already know, it was leased using forged documents. It was found moored outside St Helier two mornings later, there was no-one on board and the RIB was missing. That turned up on a beach on Sark a few days later but the boat and the RIB were clean."

"Lots of dead ends at the moment."

"Quite, I wish there was something here I could have you go through?"

"What about Richard Smart's accounts?"

"Good luck, I'd like you to see what you can find there. His accounts are complex, as I said, including investments in multiple companies and funds. Some of his worth recently passed to his son who is now his daughter."

"Oh, small world?"

"That's what I thought. I'll have my team put a package together and email it to you."

"Okay."

Suddenly an alarm rang, Jenny explained quickly as she went to exit the room.

"That's the major incident alarm, let's get to my desk."

She logged in and access her emails.
 

To: All Staff
From: Major Incident Team
Date: 22 Dec 2014 15:50UTC
Subject: NATS London & Maastrict targeted

At 1530 a co-ordinated attack took place on the National Air Traffic Control Centre at Fareham and the European centre at Maastrict. All communications and power were lost following explosions near the perimeter and at power supply distribution nodes nearby. The emergency generators have also failed, both centres are offline.

The assailants have not been identified as yet and the reason for the attacks has not been established.

All western European flights are disrupted.

*** ends ***

 
Jenny grabbed her phone and called DI Kevin Edmunds at the Counter Terrorism Unit but DI Emily Keane answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Emily, we've just heard and I was trying to get hold of DI Edmunds."

"It's manic here, Kevin's on his way to Fareham and I'm booked on Eurostar to Maastrict via Brussels in an hour, assuming they’ll still be running."

"Okay, I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks, bye."

"Jenny, is there anything I can do?"

"Not really, I suggest you get yourself to Cornwall immediately as it's possible public transport will be disrupted next."

"Okay, I'll go straight to Paddington."

It was a tired Heather who arrived in Redruth just before ten that night. She was travelling light, her overnight bag was still sitting in the Redhill house, so she only had her shoulder bag. She had overheard a few fellow passengers complaining that they were booked to fly into Newquay and had been forced to take the train - maybe they would have preferred to be stuck on a coach in a jam on the M4 or M5 instead?

The media were now reporting that some flights would resume late on Tuesday morning, the twenty-third, but would initially be using the separate military air traffic system and manually scheduling the planes, that meant the system could only cope with a third of the normal traffic. That was going to ruin several folks' plans for the festive period, undoubtedly,

Sophie was waiting at the station.

"Come on, let's get indoors."

The following morning they joined the hordes doing the main shopping raid for Christmas, given that most shops were closed on the twenty-fifth and the twenty-sixth. Shopping just before Christmas is an activity best avoided if possible, as was confirmed when they observed several scrummages inside Redruth's Tesco store.

Finally they could sit down and relax, but not before the secure phone rang upstairs. Sophie was closest so went up, whilst Heather went to put the kettle on.

"Hello?"

"Ah, DS Grieve? This is Inspector Willis."

Bob Willis now fully understood the girls' roles, and had been cleared by Jenny and Emily to be their liaison with Devon and Cornwall Constabulary. This meant using the secure phone for anything that was work-related.

"Good afternoon Bob, what can I do for you?"

"It concerns your favourite local journalist, Vic Harris."

"Right, what did the editor say?"

"The story he's trying to write on the pair of you has been spiked and it seems he's been in contact with Albert Smythe."

"That toad, I bet he wanted to get at us?"

"That was the information I saw.

"You'd have thought he learned his lesson trying to get the Algerian to do his dirty work?"

"Quite. Anyway, I'm told unofficially that an investigation into Vic Harris is about to start but it's not down to anything you've provided and has been flagged up by his internet provider. I never told you, obviously."

"Oh, that doesn't sound good."

"What doesn't sound good?"

"Oh dear, nothing!" They both laughed.

"What's the Cornish aspect of the air traffic terrorism, Bob?"

"Not much, Special Branch are at Newquay Airport for the few small aircraft and helicopters still flying and they may be in Penzance until tomorrow but everything's closed on Thursday so it's not really having much effect down here. What's your take?"

"Well, my recent posting is Counter Terrorism but this is not an easy one for me to evaluate. I don't have access to much intelligence at the moment. I did hear intel about the plot about three months ago but the information was very vague and didn’t refer to the Air Traffic Control Centres."

"That explains why virtually no-one knew about it in advance, Special Branch were just told to be extra vigilant at the ports and airports - the ones that they attend anyway, we had uniformed paying more attention to the small harbours but that really means a visit once a week instead of once a month, as you know."

"Yeah, one huge coastline and a limited number of officers on duty at any time."

***

Mid afternoon the following day, Christmas Eve, Bob Willis called again.

"Just to let you know, Vic Harris has been lifted by officers investigating something quite vile, he's going to the custody suite at Plymouth for a few days so I guess his Christmas is ruined. Merry Christmas to both of you."

Neither Heather nor Sophie would normally have wished ill against an individual, although there were plainly a few where the dislike was mutual all year round.

Having said that, t'was the season of good will so Sophie resolved to allow the justice system play out the Vic Harris case and not become emotionally involved. She pondered unplugging the secure phone but knew that would be noticed by personnel in London so parked the thought out of harm's way.

They made a simple evening meal using locally caught fish, Redruth is under five miles from the North Cornish Coast and ten miles from the southern coast, with most of the coastal villages having harbours and small fishing fleets.

The rest of Christmas Eve was peaceful but by seven the pair were bored, evening telly wasn't very inviting and most of the chores were done. Thought was then given to pulling a jigsaw out of a cupboard but that would have occupied the coffee table for several days, not sensible right now even though visitors were not expected.

The decision was taken to go out for a walk, the paths were dry with no sign of impending snow and the temperature was sitting several degrees above freezing point, regardless of which scale you used. It was however, cool enough to warrant gloves and hats.

Outside the cottage they looked up and down the road but nothing was moving, not even the trees. All they could hear was the rumble of a few cars some distance away. Sophie held out her gloved and, which Heather gladly accepted - then they set off.

The town was so peaceful, even Malek Kebabs was closed, although the family could be seen cleaning up inside. Ahmed Malek waved at them through the large window.

The girls had refused to press charges against the boy, although he had been cautioned by the Police by admitting a public order offence. His statement, however, enabled Albert Smythe to be investigated.

He was now grateful to the girls for not compounding his idiocy with a criminal record, which could have affected his college course.

Ahmed was now fairly sure that Heather and Sophie were secret police, or similar, so wanted to stay friendly. That included passing on snippets of wrong-doings in the town. Most of this was harmless tittle-tattle but a few weeks earlier something more serious was mentioned.

He signalled to speak to Sophie when she was coming out of the post office and in French explained he knew of a group of Chechens who were staying on a farm a few miles out of town. Ahmed had delivered several take-away orders to the farm in recent days and did not like what he'd seen.

Sophie had contacted Inspector Bob Willis, who had immediately spoken to Special Branch. Meanwhile Jenny and Emily were informed, causing alarm bells in their London offices. Unfortunately, by the time the raiding team was put together, the Chechens had left. Sniffer dogs did, however, find traces of explosives and ammunition but there were no fingerprints anywhere.

Ahmed was devastated that the group had been missed, if only he'd told the girls after the second kebab delivery not the third? What he hadn't expected was Special Branch's request for him to contact them directly but he'd refused, that was a guaranteed way to put a marker on his back. He preferred the alternative, no-one would believe the two nice ladies were really secret police.

They continued their walk, past a few of the pubs which were now filling up with revellers, live music was coming from many. So there was no-one on the streets but plenty were in the pubs, nothing much changes in England, or Kernow for that matter.

They were back indoors a little after eight having seen, waved at or spoken to no more than six people, including Ahmed. This suited both of them perfectly. They had now been accepted in the town as full residents, albeit from 'that there London' as it is oft referred to. Both were on good terms with those storekeepers at the shops they frequented, the post office staff, the doctor's surgery and even the local council office.

Sophie had finally gotten around to visit Dr Wilson and received a check-up, with an invite to return a year later unless something came up in the meanwhile. It turned out she wasn't on the pill and declined it as quite unnecessary.

The girls didn't entertain visitors very often but sensibly weren't close enough to anyone locally to want to invite a dinner guest around. So far as the near neighbours were concerned, so long as the cottage wasn't a four-month-a-year holiday home and the occupants said "hello" every now and again, then they were acceptable, just acceptable.

After a smallish glass of mulled wine they turned in for the night.

***

"Merry Christmas darling."

"Hmmmmm."

It seemed that neither of them wanted to get up on Christmas morning. Unfortunately any plans involving staying in bed until lunchtime were thwarted when Sophie's mobile phone rang. She took the call with her to the kitchen.

"Oh, hi Mum, Merry Christmas to you."

This was a pretty standard conversation except Sophie and her mum didn't normally get on so didn't often speak.

"No, I'm not in London so I can't pop round to see you."

Clearly it had been some time.

"The West Country, on an assignment and I'm sorry but I can't say what it is or exactly where I am."

It was at this point that the old arguments resurfaced; her mother had never approved of her daughter joining the Metropolitan Police and then being placed on duties that couldn't be discussed. It hadn't mattered how often she was asked, most of Sophie's work couldn't go home with her, causing a wedge between her and her mother leading to Sophie moving out to her own flat eventually.

Heather could hear one side of the conversation as she wrapped a dressing gown around herself before going over to the dressing table for her morning pills; one little yellow birth control tablet and one red iron and multi-vitamin booster. She made it downstairs as Sophie finished her call.

"Tough call?"

"Yes, but at least she's still there."

Heather had no close family left, and didn't have contact details for her wider family that she was aware of. Unfortunately she wouldn't be able to contact them in any case as it would blow her working identity. Maybe in the future she could be Gail again, but would never be the David her parents had named her.

By now the kettle had boiled and the day proper was kick started by a heavy slug of caffeine. Sophie went up to shower whilst Heather started preparations for the Christmas dinner, which would be enjoyed mid afternoon, just after the Queen's Speech. Once Sophie was dressed they swapped places and Heather was able to preen herself for the day, for their special day.

They had both gone for simple frocks although their lingerie was pleasantly naughty - the result of a shared visit to an intimate apparel store in Croydon a week earlier. Spending time in or near London did have its' uses occasionally.

Other gifts included jewellery and a pair of matching eternity rings, suitably engraved.

"I love you." Words weren't really necessary but were said regardless, even if their eyes conveyed the same message. The emotion was toasted with a glass of sparkling wine; the bottle had been opened slightly earlier in the day than would normally be acceptable although Heather insisted it could also be used for the cooking, if it survived long enough.

The rest of the day played out much as it would in many other households across the UK, especially the ones without children to care for and occupy. There was way too much food at dinnertime but the residue would be used the following day so waste was minimal.

They settled down to watch a film, dozing off on the sofa within the first half hour.

They both woke with a start and slightly confused. The reason for their awakening was that a phone was ringing upstairs, their secure phone.

You could almost guarantee that it wouldn't be someone with good news or season's greetings.
 

***
 
They had woken with a start, realising their secure phone was ringing upstairs. If it someone was calling on Christmas Day then there had to be a good reason, a very good reason, there was an ordinary phone in the lounge for social calls.

Heather was the first one up, but had to open the security door, answer the phone and open the safe to find the key.

"Ruddy Christmas Day! Hello? Just a mo, inserting the key."

After a pause and the obligatory beep the line was secured.

"Merry Christmas to you too. It's Kevin Edmunds."

"Hello Kevin, how can we help you?"

"Look, I'm sorry about calling today but Tara Smart has gone missing. We think she's in hiding and at risk."

"That doesn't sound too good."

"It isn't. Have you had a look at those accounts yet? There might be something in them that could help."

"Only the submitted company reports for this year and the main current accounts so far."

"Anything relevant?"

"Tara appears to have been using a Swiss account over here that's in joint names with Richard Smart, plus payments for her Lausanne hotel have finished. The Swiss account was last used on the twenty third near London Bridge station."

"So she could have gone almost anywhere. The rest of her finances were frozen when she was arrested, we didn't know about that Swiss account at the time. Anyway, it doesn't look as if she would go back to that hotel - even if she could - considering it's Christmas and with all the travel mayhem. We also have her passport, obviously."

"If she's in hiding, would the rest of the family be in danger? Tara obviously knows more than she's saying so if they can't get at Tara to silence her then they'll target the others."

"Wait a moment, someone's waving a fax at me."

He went away from his phone so Heather brought Sophie, who had walked into the office, up to date.

"Heather, we've just had a report that ties in with this, apparently there was an abduction attempt last night on the daughter, the assailant was Albanian or Kosovan and is in custody."

"I get the feeling the father and daughter are not involved in the terrorist acts, in any way."

"I'd have to agree, that's my gut feeling too. Anyway, something worrying is going on in Thurso so I'm heading up to Scotland in the morning, it's possible that Kelmendi is targeting the rest of the Smart family."

"Okay, if there's anything we can do, let us know."

"Will do, but be careful as Kelmendi could have been given your names and might equally be back in Cornwall."

"Thanks for the warning."

"Bye."

Heather pulled the security key from the phone so it could be returned to the safe but then removed her weapon and a spare magazine at the same time, she brought Sophie fully up to speed.

"Great, so much for a quiet Christmas."

"I know but we'll have to raise our alert level to amber and do things by the book."

"Yeah."

"I'll send the control room an email, copied to Jenny."

"I'll check the locks and make sure all the cameras and perimeter alarms are active."

The new procedure had been brought in after the last alarm activation, although that itself wasn't the reason. No, some of Jenny's superiors had insisted there was a full review given that the girls were a long way from specialist help, even the nearest armed response police vehicle could be an hour or more away, across the border in Devon.

So, under the revised regime, they were to review and evaluate new information, decide whether the threat warranted a change in alert level, and pass this up the line. Amber meant locking themselves in until the threat was diminished, not the worst situation to endure on Christmas Day. A red alert, on the other hand, would imply a credible threat to their home and required an immediate evacuation – they were thankful that wasn't, as yet, required.

The tasks took ten minutes to achieve, after which Heather locked the office and met Sophie downstairs. Neither was hungry but equally neither should now consume any more alcohol in case of evacuation. One of the issues that had concerned them during the security review was whether to inform the local police.

The problem there was that any information leading to amber alert might be based on intelligence that couldn't be passed on to anyone with a security clearance below a suitable level.

A few changes that had been made following the security review concerned where their cars were parked and how to reach them in case of evacuation, the instruction that followed a red alert. In common with most towns in the UK, especially those built a century or two ago, is that the only parking is normally on the street.

One of their vehicles was therefore parked outside, or nearby. There's no automatic legal right to a parking space for able-bodied citizens so you take the closest space available, even if that's at the far end of the road, or several streets away.

What was discovered during the review was an unused private garage, accessible from the lane that ran behind the cottage. This was acquired by the Security Service, which then funded the installation of a gate out of the garden. Ironically, Jimmy Ruddle's team had originally removed the gate, declaring it a security risk.

Within a week of the review they had a secondary evacuation route through the garden, the security system had been extended to include the garage but was prone to triggers by the local feline population walking across the roof. Cats also managed to get into the garden, then complained loudly they couldn't get out - until an automatic garden sprinkler was activated.

As it was there was nothing to disturb the girls sleep, except themselves.

***

Boxing Day, Friday, started with rain beating against the windows, waking Heather just after seven in the morning. She threw on a gown and padded in her slippers down to the kitchen, turning up the heating as she did.

She made two cups of tea and took them up to the bedroom, where Sophie had rolled herself fully in the duvet and was fast asleep. Heather abandoned her plan to sit in bed with her tea and a magazine so took a long shower instead. Back out of there, nearly half an hour later, she found Sophie snoring contently. Heather stood at the foot of the bed and dragged the duvet suddenly away.

A few hours later, after the bedroom version of WWIII had ended with a truce, and a good deal of tickling, they both made it downstairs refreshed and dressed. It was still raining heavily.

Looking out of the front windows Heather could see the rivulets of rain water becoming streams and threatening to overwhelm the street drainage. Within an hour the entire roadway was a river, strong enough to knock some walkers off their feet. Cars were a different issue but the stupid ones insisted on travelling at their normal speed through the flood water, causing a wake from both the front and rear wheels. The excess water was being driven towards front doors along the road.

The girls were fairly sure their door would keep the water out as it had been replaced when they bought the place, the original didn't have 3mm of steel embedded in the door, behind a kevlar panel, and had been made specifically for that doorway. From the outside it didn't look out of place, but it did its job perfectly.

Whilst keeping an eye on the weather, the girls prepared the Boxing Day lunch, using the cold cuts from the previous day plus hot potatoes and a salad. The tatties were just cooked when there was a series of very bright flashes and thunderclaps.

Along with the third flash, there was a loud bang from the far end of the road. The power went off.

"Sounds like the electricity substation was hit." Sophie was quite matter-of-fact.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Are the spuds done?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll get some plates and we'll have lunch."

Without the lights it was quite dull in the kitchen so they ate in the lounge with lap trays, something Heather wasn't usually keen on. Once again they stayed off the wine, but enjoyed a fruit punch with a lemonade top.

Questions waited until after the plates were cleared and desserts were considered, then dismissed.

"Sophie, what about our security system?"

"There's a battery backup that should be good for twelve hours."

"But will the power be back on in time?"

"Stop worrying, I'm sure the electricity company knows by now that the power is off here, as well as spook-central probably."

At that moment there was a loud knocking on the door, Sophie went to the spy hole before unlocking and opening the door.

"Hello Miss, we're about to put the power back on, can you make sure everything's off please?"

"Okay, thanks."

She quickly closed and relocked the door.

"There, nothing to worry about."

The lights came back on a minute later but within sixty seconds there was a huge explosion from a few streets away. Sophie grabbed her all-weather coat and bag, dropping her weapon in her bag."

"Wait here."

"What about the amber alert?"

"Just wait here, kill all the lights and don't let anyone in."

Now Heather was worried.

Over the next hour a series of sirens were heard, coming from many directions, the blue lights being reflected off the rain water. The storm was now abating but as the clouds cleared the temperature started to drop rapidly.

Heather waited as long as she dared then, finally, pulled on a warm coat, hat and scarf and put her weapon in a shoulder bag. Lastly, she pulled on a pair of sensible boots and walked towards the front door, finding Sophie wiping her feet on the doormat.

"Where do you think you were going?"

"To see what was going on."

"You were told to stay here."

"And that didn't apply to you?"

"I'm still a police officer and that was an emergency, I couldn't have been responsible for you out there and you would have been a hindrance to the rescue services. Anyway, forensics are there now and have taken control of the scene."

"Thanks very much," Heather replied sarcastically, "so you break the amber alert to play International Rescue?"

"No, and if you calm down and get out of that gear I'll tell you what just happened."

Sophie, sensibly, went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the boil whilst she waited for Heather.

"I'll make us some tea, I’m cold and you’re stressed."

They sat down a few minutes later. "I'm sorry, Sophie, I didn't think."

"Look, we all make mistakes, but this could have been worst, much worst than it was."

"So, what was it?"

"I believe there was a bomb behind the kebab shop, hidden in one of the waste bins. Malek had apparently thrown a rubbish sack in there once the lights were back on and the bomb was triggered."

"Oh no, how is he?"

"No major injuries as he'd tossed the bag in from a good distance away, behind one of the other bins - apparently he was already going back inside when the blast went off, so he was quite shielded but he was still knocked off his feet and hit the wall."

"Will be be okay?"

"Probably, he's being taken to Treliske Hospital in case of concussion and internal injuries, the paramedics don't want to take any risks."

"Anyone else hurt?"

"His mother was upstairs and was hit by broken glass in the bathroom, it overlooks the back. She's going to hospital as well but doesn't speak English or French, only Maghrebi Arabic, so Malek has to interpret for her."

"Who do you suspect?"

Sophie took her phone out of her bag and showed Heather the picture of Chechen graffiti.

"Oh, bugger."

***

The photo was emailed to the Security Service duty office. Heather put the key in the side of the secure phone just in case. It rang a minute later.

"Miss Young?"

"Is that Bob?"

"It is, I've just been dragged away from a family get-together but I'm not blaming you, it was mostly the in-laws and out-laws and I wanted to get away!"

"Glad we could help, but it's not our show tonight."

"Really? The officers on the ground reported back that a DS Grieve was on the scene suspiciously quickly and was able to communicate with the lad at the kebab shop. I know she speaks French but the local officers didn't know and thought it was Arabic, idiots. Anyway, they referred it to HQ, which meant Devon & Cornwall Special Branch are now involved, no doubt one of them is on their way to the scene."

"More idiots on the case then!"

"Come on, I work with those idiots sometimes!"

"Is that a recommendation?"

"Have you been on the juice, Heather?"

"Not yet, will explain why not when you finish your tale."

"Not pregnant then?"

"Get on with it!"

"I think I'll go back to the in-laws inane chat, it made more sense!"

"Why don't you get in a car and come here, we'll do some tea for you, standard Boxing Day stuff."

"That sounds like an offer, and it gets me out of the office."

"We'll expect you here in half an hour then, please don't let SB know!"

"I'll do my best!"

Heather enjoyed that call, but what was going on? She recounted the conversation to Sophie.

"Bloody hell, those two from traffic had never been to a terrorist incident before, had no idea about Chechenya, didn't know the this area as they normally work Exeter or the M5, and are frightened of anyone who doesn't speak English. They wouldn't survive in London at all."

"So what did you do?"

"I took over as senior officer on the scene, they didn't like that either so stick sexist onto their list of faults. After it was under control, they decided to refer me to SB, we'll see about that. I think I'll have them busted to office duties pending a disciplinary for insubordination!"

"Look, Bob Willis is on his way over and he's staying for tea. We'll ask him to sort out SB and those two idiotic traffic officers."

Sophie grabbed her laptop and walked downstairs to start work on her report whilst Heather made a note of the phone call before locking up the office.

There was a banging on the door, Sophie hooked the door chain before opening it.

"I'm DC Garston," he held up a warrant, "are you Miss Grieve?" He was very obviously a Special Branch officer, even if he hadn't actually said so.

"No, I'm DS Grieve of SO15."

"SO15?"

"How long have you been out of short trousers? SO15 is the Counter Terrorism Unit at NSY. Now, what do you want?"

"I want to question you about your involvement in the Kebab House bombing incident and interfering at a crime scene."

She laughed, "I don't know what you've been told but I was the most qualified person there, I'm also senior to you in every way conceivable. I'll tell you what, you can read my report once we decide you’re cleared to see it.”

"If you won't give me a straight answer then I would like you to come with me now."

"Look, I'll be gentle, piss off. I'm expecting DI Willis from Truro shortly; my report will be copied to him and offices you've never heard of once I have time to finish it."

"I'll be back with backup and a warrant shortly."

"Great idea, but you won't get one."

"And why not?"

"My partner has friends in very strange places. Now, be a good boy and go home."

She shut the door firmly.

Speaking to no-one in particular, "don't the regional SB units get any training these days?"

It was another fifteen minutes and a cup of tea later before DI Bob Willis arrived, knocking gently on the street door. It was now dark outside and fast approaching five o'clock.

"Come in, did you drive yourself?"

"No, I had a driver but I sent her back."

"Good, you can have a glass of wine with the meal."

"I'm not sure about that, I'm on duty."

"Were you called in?"

"Yes."

"So not scheduled hours, then. Why don't you conclude your enquiries at about eighteen hundred hours and I'll pour you a glass of vino then, I'll time it so we can eat soon after. That'll give you an hour or so. One of us can run you home."

"Very kind, but why aren't you drinking?"

Heather explained their Amber Alert status and the reasoning behind it. They touched on the wider issues regarding Kelmendi's location and the Scottish connection before moving onto the presumed Chechen bombing of the kebab shop. Finally Sophie told him about SB's visit.

"Christ, they need a course in public relations, don't they?"

"A bit more than that; we've encountered them before and they disappoint every time."

"Can I use your phone to call their office?"

"Sure, we'll let you into our inner sanctum."
 

***
 
"Thanks very much for the meal, that DC Garston should be here shortly to run me home, and I promise I'll have those two officers on a training course in the new year."

"Cheers Bob."

Once Bob Willis was safely on his way home the two girls sat on the couch and had a cuddle.

"Sophie, we'll have to continue this alert, won't we?"

"It looks like that, can you get online and put a food order in for delivery on Saturday?"

"Sure."
 

***
 
"It looks icy this morning."

Sophie was looking out of the window whilst Heather grabbed the duvet wrapping it around herself and shrugged off the morning.

"I don't care, it's too cold to think let alone do anything."

"Heather, you're a wimp!"

"No, a realist!"

"OK, you asked for it." Sophie grabbed the duvet and dragged it off the bed but didn't leave it there. She gathered it up and carried it away down the stairs, towards the kitchen.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch!"

Sophie shrugged off the insults as she stripped the duvet cover before stuffing it into the washing machine. There was already sufficient in there so that the machine could be started almost immediately, with the appropriate detergents of course.

"Bring that back," shouted Heather for the third time.

"Too late, strip the rest of the bed and bring it down here."

"It's not right, I hate you!"

Thankfully Sophie was decent when the Tesco delivery van arrived but Heather, wrapped in a towelling dressing gown and still laying on her bed, trying valiantly to make a point. Quite why, was beyond sensible thinking.

Sophie stowed the shopping whilst her lover finally headed to the shower. They had argued over professional matters of late but there were an increasing number of relationship issues brewing. Heather had tried to take the high ground when they first moved to the Redhill house but things had changed.

What didn't help was that Heather had very little to occupy herself, professionally that is, whilst Sophie was either involved in incidents or writing reports about them. What she needed was a purpose, a project, a fiscal investigation, something to do.

Plainly that was not going to happen at a weekend, and definitely not the weekend between Christmas and New Year. Being stuck indoors was the final straw, or was it Sophie's use of sarcasm?

"I've made you a coffee, but it's a bit late for breakfast."

"Thanks, I thought you'd be angry with me?"

"I should be, but I guess I'm partly responsible? Come here."

A hug followed, interrupted by the doorbell. Heather was nearest, keeping the door-chain hooked. A police identity card was being held up.

"Hello?"

"Ah, I'm DC Garston, is DS Grieve here?" He seemed to be holding something behind his back.

"I'll get her."

Sophie had moved up to the door but was staying hidden until the caller was identified.

"Hello again."

"I'd like to apologise for what I said yesterday."

"Is that a result of a chat with an Inspector?"

"Maybe, I'd like to make amends." He swept a bunch of flowers from behind his jacket. Sophie unhooked the chain and opened the door wider, taking the bunch from him.

"Thank you." She handed them to Heather who was stood a few feet away. The flowers were now heading into the kitchen to find a vase.

"Is she your partner?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Please don't make me put a complaint in?"

"No, um, no." He seemed lost for words. Upstairs the secure phone started to ring so Sophie decided their conversation had ended.

"The bat phone is ringing, it might be Commissioner Gordon."

"Oh, you best get it. Bye." Plainly his cultural knowledge was lacking.

As Heather was still arranging the flowers Sophie headed upstairs and let herself into the office.

"Hello?"

"Hi Sophie, it's Emily."

"Right, just let me get the key out."

That took a minute as Sophie managed to get the safe combination wrong at first attempt.

"Are we secure now?"

"Yes, Emily, how can I help you?"

"I have some updates for you. Firstly Tara Smart has been located and is being moved to a safe house, we're hoping she can provide some useful intelligence this time."

"That is good news."

"It gets better, the Chechens were picked up at Membury Services on the M4 last night after Wiltshire officers became suspicious."

"Where are they now?"

"At Paddington Green, we also have ten kilos of explosive and a small arsenal of weapons."

"Were they involved in the air traffic control incident?"

"It's looking unlikely, they were almost certainly planning an attack on a different target, the best guess is New Years Eve celebrations in London."

"Shit, are they talking?"

"No. Right now we're trying to work out how they got into the country but a car ferry into Plymouth looks likely. I have Devon and Cornwall looking through hours of CCTV around the dates your Algerian mentioned."

"Ahmed Malek is in hospital at the moment after the Chechens left a device behind the kebab shop. As the take-away was closed Christmas Day it could have been there any time from Christmas eve night."

"I saw your report, I also had a complaint from the DI responsible for Special Branch officers in Devon and Cornwall Constabulary."

"The officers there didn't know what they were doing and could easily have contaminated the site, then SB turned up and decided I was involved."

"I sent him a copy of your report and had an apology on the phone within half an hour."

"That explains the flowers earlier this morning."

"Flowers?"

"DC Garston decided to placate me, I guess his DI might have had a hand in that."

"I wouldn't know. Anyway, I've given the Truro DI a suggestion that your entries on the force's intelligence database are restricted to Inspector level and above."

"Thanks."

"Heather's car has also been added to the restricted list, the same as yours."

"That should have been done in November."

"I know, but I thought Jenny had arranged it. There's something else, I had a call from Kevin this morning, two Kosovans have been arrested in Thurso so far. He now thinks Kelmendi is up there so you can cancel your Amber Alert."

"Thanks, we were going stir crazy."

"Right, it's Saturday and I want to get out of here!"

"Fine by me, bye for now."

"Bye."
 

***
 
A friendly nurse at Treliske Hospital revealed that Ahmed was due to be discharged just after lunchtime. The girls had decided to sort that out themselves and were now heading back to Redruth with their passenger.

"Merci."

"Ce n'est pas problème, Ahmed."

"Mais...."

"Mais rien."

Ahmed sat back and folded his arms. He came from a culture where such kindness involving police or security forces was virtually unknown. He silently resolved to redouble his efforts to help the ladies.

Once they arrived back in Redruth they went straight to the take-away, Mrs Malek came out, her wounds still visible. She hugged her son and then the girls, through Ahmed she expressed her thanks and said they could have free food any-time they wanted.

Sophie had thanked them for the offer but wasn’t planning to take advantage of it, she told Heather a minute later.

“Speak for yourself!”

"You don't!"

"Yes, I do like them." That was one thing that Heather had grown to enjoy as she'd worked for a kebab shop owner, Hamiz Fourani, before his death. Having said that, if she'd realised what he was up to she would probably kept well away.

Back indoors they busied themselves with domestic chores before starting dinner, lasagne this evening with garlic bread and a green salad. They also allowed themselves a glass of wine, a Cabernet Shiraz.
 

***
 
Sunday was a day when almost nothing happened. An overnight frost had put a white sheen on the roads and roofs and it looked slippery. The girls, didn't need to go anywhere so stayed indoors. The irony was that until the previous morning they had been housebound under an Amber Alert.

With two of the Kosovans detained the threat was diminishing. The Chechens were now looking at lengthy prison sentences for a variety of offences.

It was five o'clock when the secure phone rang.

"Hello, it's Kevin."

"Hi, it's Heather."

"Hi Heather, I'm still in Thurso but we have Duran Kelmendi."

"Excellent, how?"

"He made an attempt this lunchtime to kidnap Tammy Smart, the daughter, but her bodyguard disarmed him and two off-duty officers intervened."

"I understand Tara Smart is also safe."

"Yes, she's finally told us that one of Berisha's friends had arrived in the country on the 8th of December. We're actively looking for him."

"Great. It sounds like you have all bar one."

"Yes, anyway I now have a report to write."
Moving on

The weather dictated Heather and Sophie’s movements over the next few days, with more time spent indoors due to rain or gales.

Sophie’s wish was to visit villages and small harbours on those days when the weather was kinder, Heather’s intentions however involved investigating the larger retail outlets for post-Christmas bargains.

Unfortunately that often meant going into, or near, the larger towns where they could join the long queues for a rare parking space before braving the streets which were full of mad shoppers.

"This is not my idea of a relaxing day, Heather."

There was, however, an interesting For Sale notice in a Redruth Estate Agency’s window, Heather went inside to obtain the paperwork and rejoined Sophie a few minutes later.

“Could we?”

“We could, but should we?”

“Let’s talk when we get home.”

Sophie did not like to sit indoors and vegetate, so in spite of the weather she still tried to visit the local harbours regularly, making notes. Heather, did, sometimes join her out of boredom, or just wanting to be with her partner.

One of these trips took them to Newlyn on the first Sunday morning of 2015 where they observed the crew of the Penlee lifeboat preparing for an exercise. Across the bay they could see the ferry to St Marys leaving on the 11am sailing. Nothing untoward was happening and that disappointed the girls.

It was the next Friday, on the morning of January the ninth, when they were both sat with Jenny in Thames House. DI Emily Keane had joined them for a review of the previous three months. Jenny kicked it off.

"Well, ladies, it was a little eventful over Christmas?"

"There was a fair bit of finger twiddling too."

"Speak for yourself, Heather."

"Oh, come on Sophie, I didn't do as much as I could?"

"Heather, Sophie, stop the bickering. Heather, if you hadn't have investigated St Marys Chandlers then we'd never have known about Duran Kelmendi or successfully closed down that smuggling route."

"True, Jenny."

"There we go, Sophie took risks but we wouldn't have known about any of it without that initial interest."

"I suppose so."

"Plus Heather, your report writing is getting better as well as your intelligence gathering."

"Due to practice?"

"Correct, but you're more observant, too. Sophie, please try not to be a police officer as much, you need to sit on the sidelines and be an observer more often."

"Jenny, those idiot officers were going to contaminate the scene at the kebab shop and hadn't any experience with terrorist acts. I couldn't just stand and watch."

"Okay, that time your training took over, but you can learn more about a scene by not participating, just watching and listening."

"Easy to say here, less easy on the ground." Sophie wasn’t going to give in.

"Jenny, I'd have to agree with Sophie on that one."

"I understand that Emily, but it's still a concern as it attracts attention to Heather, directly or indirectly."

"Yes, I see."

"Next, ladies, I think it's time you gave up the house in Redhill."

"Maybe Jenny, but we do still use it."

"Once in December! On this trip I bet you're going back to Cornwall this afternoon so you've only spent one night there. It's not worth the running costs."

"So I guess it's hotels from now on?"

"Yes, receipts for everything please."

"Okay, we'll make arrangements to move the rest of our belongings once we have a storage unit organised."

The meeting continued by analysing the investigations they'd become involved with. Emily provided the final update.

"We now have the fourth Kosovan, he was picked up by the French border police at the St Pancras Eurostar check-in yesterday. Unfortunately, the identity he was using was wanted in Italy for fraud so it was in the Schengen database. Once it was clear he was wanted here for the air traffic control attacks he was handed over to us and is detained with the others in Belmarsh Prison."

"What about Tara Smart?"

"She's on bail and no longer in a safe house. In due course she'll have to attend court, it's with the Crown Prosecution Service right now to prepare the case."

"Okay, okay. Now, what's our next task?"

Jenny put down her pen, “I’ve been looking at the regional coverage that we have, not just within my team but across all counter-terrorist operations. Emily’s input have been excellent and, where possible, we can share resources.”

Heather sensed there was an issue.

“Yes, we simply don't have many assets in Scotland and certainly none in the Highlands, that cannot be allowed to continue." Jenny was quite insistent. "If something happens we will be very exposed and at the tender mercies of the local police officers."

No-one present could argue with this view, the problem as ever was what to do about it. Heather had a suggestion.

"I don't know if you'll like this but we can develop a school-leaver and let them continue their education whilst giving them the perfect cover, an apprenticeship if you like?"

Emily queried this. "If you're talking about an eighteen year old, they are not sufficiently mature to handle a double life and can't keep their mouths shut. It's bad enough with police recruitment straight from school, their focus is too wayward."

Sophie took a different tack. "What are the issues here? What do we need assets for?"

"Firstly, there's a drug and weapons smuggling operation that's been displaced from Cornwall. The drop points vary and the vessel isn't the same each time. On the occasions we've boarded a suspect vessel they're clean. The suspicion is that the Trethgarwyn family are involved. The problem there is that one of them is a serving police officer in Thurso."

Heather audibly sighed. "That family again, Jenny?"

"Unfortunately, there may also be a Russian connection but the intel is not reliable so far. We also have an issue with money laundering at the University and need someone on the inside there."

"So you'd want either a member of staff or a student?"

"Yes Emily, if we're going to do this covertly."

Heather made a suggestion. "How about Miss Tamara Smart? She's taking her A levels in a few months and is doing Business Studies with the Finance option at the local University. We've already researched her family, her father did some work for us a few years ago. The only fly in that ointment is her mother."

Jenny wasn't convinced. "I'd need to know who we're dealing with and what her finance skills are?"

Emily: "DI Kevin Edmunds was up there over Christmas and speaks highly of the girl, perhaps these ladies could spend a few days in Scotland? A direct approach would be best, I feel."

Jenny: "Okay, if that works we'll suggest she does an internship this summer, but not here."

"Based with us in Cornwall?" Asked Heather.

"Yes, but I want the final say. What do you think Emily?"

"I've seen the reports from Christmas, her father was sensible enough to take on a bodyguard. Miss Smart also seems to have come through the experience intact, that's a useful quality. What if she does a week or two at Easter so we get a close up look? That way Thames House is not exposed."

"I'd accept that. Okay everyone, let's run with this. If this works we'll have an agent embedded as a first year student at the University for the Highlands & Islands. If it fails, can we wash our hands of her?"

The meeting didn't want to explore that possibility. Jenny agreed to underwrite the costs but insisted on full induction training via Thames House if the summer internship was going to be offered.

"If that's all?"

Heather looked at Sophie before speaking. "We'd like to buy the cottage next door and knock through to make it a single property." Jenny did not look surprised.

"I know you've done your homework on this, I guess you'd want the security system expanded."

"Of course."

“You are not going to run a guest house, are you?”

“No, no, but we’d at least like to be able to have somewhere for our guests to stay, the B&Bs in Redruth are pretty full from April to October.”

"Get me a full report by the end of the week and I'll consider it."
 

** Fin **
 

The story continues in UG3: Diminishing Returns
 

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle

Character Index

 

 
 

 
 

Lead character	Heather Young/Gail Jones/David Jones/Abigail Adams
- - - -
Police	DS/DI Emily Keane	SO15 Counter Terrorism Unit
	Cmdr Ken Bond	SO15 Counter Terrorism Unit
	Asst Commissioner Harry Godfrey	SO15 Counter terrorism unit
	DI Kevin Edmunds	SO15 Counter Terrorism Unit
	Helen Bell	Family Liaison officer/Solicitor/MI5
	DS Sophie Grieve	Close Protection Officer
- - - -
Security Service	Dave Brown	Fraud & Terrorism expert
	John Smith	Personnel Security manager
	Jennifer Osborne	Head of Finance Team
	Jimmy Ruddle	Sweep Team leader
	Jeremy Davis	Finance Team
	Val	Finance Team
- - - -
Medical	Doctor Hughes	Police Doctor
	Anna	Gail's former nurse
	Doctor Rachel Wilson	Heather & Sophie's doctor
- - - -
Scilly Isles	Sgt Colin Taylor	Police
	Peter Cookson	CEO St Mary's Chandlers
	Steve Daly	Human Resources/Personnel St Mary's Chandlers
	John Denison	Day Captain Chandlers Boy vessel
	Billy Trethgarwyn Senior	Night Captain Chandlers Boy vessel
	Billy Trethgarwyn Junior	Son of Billy Trethgarwyn Snr
	Scotty Trethgarwyn	Son of Billy Trethgarwyn Snr
- - - -
Redruth & West Cornwall	(Colonel) Albert Smythe	Neighbourhood Watch
	PC Smythe	Police - grandson of Albert Smythe
	Inspector Bob Willis	Devon & Cornwall Police Inspector in Truro
	DC Garston	Devon & Cornwall Police Special Branch officer
	Vic Harris	Newspaper reporter
	Ahmed Malek	Kebab deliveries
- - - -
Criminals	Hamiz Fourani	Property owner
	Hamed Forani	Brother of Hamiz
	Janet Husseini Davison	Mother of nurse Fatima Husseini-Davis
	Iqbal Hussein	Husband of Janet Hussaini
	Duran Kelmendi	Kosovan terrorist

NB For any references to the Smart Family, please refer to the Tommy & Tamara Character Index

Updated 25-Dec-2014

 
Note: This is a work of fiction but a number of real people, places, and institutions are mentioned in fictitious circumstances. It's a story!