23 hours - the tenth hour

09.00. The meeting has broken up and everyone has been sent away with instructions. The only real hope at the moment is the cyclist and there has been no information from the interrogation other than he is a Turkish national. This news rather threw a spanner in their thinking in that neither the country nor any of its groups featured on their long list never mind the shortlisted two. The Minister is calculating the best time to let those above him know what’s happened. He wanted to call with an answer so perhaps he will wait another half hour he thinks.

09.05. Tea and toast made Tracey-Rebecca sits down and lifts her laptop onto her knees. It’s a heavy old model and she curses Police pay for not allowing her to upgrade. She lifts open the lid and boots up hearing the clunky whirring that signals the start of the slow process that will eventually bring light to the screen. Taking a chunk from her toast she looks away knowing it’s not only watched kettles that slows things. After a sip of tea the screen is dimly awake and she reaches out for the metal object, clicks off its top and puts the memory stick into a USB port. As she does the battery dies. She laughs out loud and takes another bite.

09.10. The old man’s breathing is heavy and wheezes as he asks what exactly has happened. “It’s hard to piece together yet but from what we can tell he was successful in getting the package on the train much earlier than anticipated so had to get off before the ‘meet up’ point. We managed to liaise and get a light helicopter to pick him up but that was,” the young man pauses, “destroyed.” The old man takes another sip of water and whispers, “enemy action?” “Our man on the scene thinks so because these were the vans that were on the scene.” He shows the image on his phone to a pair of blue eyes that, whilst watery and bloodshot, still have an iciness that can chill.

09.15. As we leave the train Faith immediately marches towards one of the exits keeping her head to the ground as she walks. I mimic her attitude and begin to think I am really not suited to this game anymore, if I ever truly was. She scans the street and walks towards Primark. This is clearly not the time to raise ethical concerns over manufacturing I think, which makes me smile for the first time in what feels like a week. I have been up for over 9 hours already and I won’t see sleep any time soon. I suddenly realise I am thirsty and hungry. I feel like a little kid next to her.

09.20. She finishes her toast and checks that the battery on the computer is charging. The battery on her mobile needs charging too. She plugs that in and moves through to the bedroom. She throws her clothes onto the bed and goes into the bathroom and stares at her face and thinks how drawn and tired she looks. It makes her want to take a shower but that will only wake her up and she must sleep before her next shift. She walks to her bed, lifts back the duvet and lies down. Within moments she is gently snoring.

09.25. The old man has fallen into a sleep. ‘It must be the drugs’ the younger man thinks. It is sad to see such a man in this decline. In his heyday he was physically and mentally strong. Indeed, up until two months ago, he could spread fear with a look. He had built his empire on that unique partnership of intimidation and encouragement. Now all that was under threat and he was in no real shape to respond. The younger man feels the passing of power and finds he has sat more upright in his chair.

09.30. The door to the office opens and he nervously steps into the room. The Minister is standing by the window staring out as though lost in thought. A slight cough captures his attention. He turns and looks to the door, “Yes?”. The man coughs again and speaks. “There’s a call on the red phone. It seems they have heard about something and want to speak to you straight away. Shall I patch them through?” The Minister mutters yes and goes back to his desk. He had hoped to beat them to the call but he has had no updates. This is not a call he is going to enjoy.

09.35. We are now complete with wide brimmed hats on our heads and a complete change of clothes in bags each. Faith crosses the road and takes us back to the station. “Get changed in the toilets and meet me outside in 5 minutes. If there’s a bin dump your own clothes in there.” She runs down the stairs and disappears into the ladies. I look around for the Gents making sure not to raise my gaze to high. Having located it I find it will cost 50p to get in. An old man next to me mutters his disapproval “Spend a penny eh? That’s fifty pees.” He laughs at his own joke whilst I wait for a cubicle to become empty and squeeze in. I have never changed in anywhere so disgusting.

09.40. It all seems to happen at once although actually he registered it milliseconds before. He lost control over the screen arrow from his mouse which means his computers and programme are now being run from the main office. Within the moment of his realising this he hears his front door compromised and suddenly his room is filled with the ‘black suits’. It has been a recurring dream since childhood but now it’s happening - he is in an intimidating situation dressed in his pyjamas and he knows this is going to be worse than his ‘going to school’ nightmares.

09.45. The Minister hangs up the phone and shakes involuntarily. It is very clear that if this situation is not recovered they expect him to fall on his sword. His attempts to deflect attention onto the CRISIS committee members has cut no ice and they only have him in their sights. He presses the phone and speaks “We need to reconvene the CRISIS committee at 10.30 prompt. Remind them I want solutions and make sure no entries in anyone’s diaries.”

09.50. The cyclist can tell them no more. It is clear that he either knows nothing or is so good he will never break. The injections have merely reinforced his confusion and lost what little English he had. The leader picks up the phone to relay the news and also that the fingerprints of the mobile phone in his bag are just Agent Hope’s. He listens to the voice on the other end and then turns to the man holding the syringe. He nods once.

09.55. There is no point resisting. They have shut down all his computers and boxed them. They have been transported downstairs and he can only presume into a waiting van. They have rifled the shelves, wardrobes cupboards and have found nothing. Well they couldn’t as he has nothing to hide. Apart from falling asleep he has done nothing wrong. He just wishes he had got rid of the magazines. It’s funny, he knows he is in for hell but the embarrassment of the magazines is dominating.

23 hours - the ninth hour

08.00. The three speaker phones bleep into life and the caller on each identifies themselves. Those seated in the room do the same. The normal jocularity that usually accompanies such situations is missing. The Minister leans back and then forward with purpose placing the palms and fingers of his hands together almost in prayer, "Gentlemen, and lady," he turns to acknowledge her, "I need hardly remind you what a tsunami of crap is going to fall on your heads and lives if we don't resolve this situation." He leans back and gives the sort of smile that can curdle milk

08.05. In Betcherton eight men run to their vans as the leader stares at a tracking device on his mobile. The man and woman walk back to a dark saloon car and get in. The woman is speaking on her phone. On a train pulling away from the station Faith and I are sitting opposite each other. I have been keeping an eye on those walking along the platform and those boarding the train. There is no person or group who look dangerous to us. I lean across to Faith and say, “Looks like we’re ahead of them.” She lets out a little smile and sits back.

08.10. A voice from the one of the Spider phones crackles into life “Gentlemen,” says Voice 1. The lone woman in the room stares at the speaker. “It would appear that our teams are back on the signal track of Agent Hope’s phone. I shall leave this conversation for a few moments and come back to you with an update shortly.” As he hangs up there is a general sense of relief in the room. A second disconnected voice reports that the police who were present are too stupid to know anything. The Minister sits back, “Let us hope this removes the cloud that is hanging over all your heads.” He presses his intercom. “Tea now,” he barks.

08.15. As PC Ellis changes into her civvies she hangs her uniform on the bar in her locker and turns away before remembering. She reaches back into the darkened space and lift up the sleeve. She takes a short sniff. ‘Should do for another couple of shifts,’ she thinks before her hand brushes the pocket of the jacket. She glances around the changing room to confirm it’s empty and puts her hand inside enclosing the metal object from the scene in her palm. Quickly transferring it into her civvy clothes pocket she leaves the room for home shouting ‘goodbye’ as she leaves.

08.20 He cycles with headphones in. He is avoiding puddle and potholes and is finally beginning to relax after the near accident by the station. He begins to sing along to the track and let’s his mind wander ahead to the evening he has planned. A small smile flicks across his lips at the thought. As it curls upwards towards his eyes he is knocked from his bike by a black van sending him sprawling onto the pavement and his rucksack into the road. He begins to shout as a second van pulls up and he, his bike and bag are bundled into the back.

08.25. I am looking at Faith and she is still smiling. “You seem quite relaxed considering they are chasing us right now.” She reaches forward and says, “I gave them a little detour.” She smiles again. “Remember the cyclist I bumped into.” I nod. “Well I turned on my phone and slipped it into his bag when I knocked into him. They should have been chasing him for the last twenty odd minutes.” I sit back and suddenly feel nothing but pity for the innocent cyclist who is now wrapped up in this hideous morning.

08.30. In a darkened room a nurse moves towards the man in the bed and rest her hand upon his. She gently repeats his name until his eyes open. “What is it nurse?” he croaks and signals for the plastic beaker with straw next to his pillow. “It’s your son Sir, he want to see you.” He takes a sip and lets the warm water moisten his lips and tongue. “Help me sit up,” he asks and when he is settled asks her to show him in. He knows something is wrong. He has no son.

08.35 The cyclist in the back of the van is terrified. Two of the men are shouting questions at him about a mobile phone is his bag that isn’t his. He has no answers and if confused. He needs time to think but they won’t stop shouting. He can’t even follow what they are saying as his English is weak. They have been through his papers and he can only presume it’s about his visa but they haven’t asked him about it. Finally he shouts out his name and bursts into tears. For a few moments the only sound is from the road. A voice over the leader’s mobile phone says “Bring him back to base.”

08.40. Tea has been served. Those that wanted coffee accept the tea as it is clear there was never going to be a choice. Little of insight has been said in the half an hour that has passed but they have rehearsed a few scenarios and discussed various strategies and approaches. The have shortlisted the most likely countries and organisations to be behind the act and have shortlisted two. The computer voice announces that the Line 1 spiderphone is active again. “Well?” asks the Minister. The tiny voice speaks, “He’s being brought back to the base for questioning. He has the phone but nothing else.” There is an uncomfortable silence.

08.45. Back at home Tracey-Rebecca Ellis fills the kettle and flops into her comfy chair and thinks ‘what a night shift.’ Well, in fairness up until just after six it had been a normal night but then …. She takes the metal object from her pocket and stares at it. She’s knows what it is and she knows she should have handed it over and now she is totally compromised. She can’t think what came over her but can only assume it was the fact that, for the first time this morning, something exciting and exceptional had happened after four years in the police. The click of the kettle makes her jump.

08.50. “You wanted to see me?” says the man from his hospital bed. “You can leave us Nurse and do sit down son.” The nurse pulls the door shut and they both leave a pause to hear her footsteps move away. The room is filled with the sound of the old man’s breathing. “Well?” he finally says. The younger man opens a brief case and lifts out a small device which he turns on. It emits a white noise distraction and as soon as it is audible he speaks. “We may have an issue with the collection.”

08.55. Faith opens her eyes and looks at me. “We should be in London shortly. The shop is in a very affluent part of London. I doubt it will open until ten at the earliest. I suggest we go to one of the large shopping centres and buy a set of clothes each from a single shop so we can settle everything together in one payment. They will have tracks on all our credit cards. Before then we want to buy to large brimmed hats with cash to ruin any CCTV images.” She really is rather remarkable. At least I have some cash so can contribute a bit.