Friday 28 March 2014

23 hours - the thirteenth hour

12.00. At the stroke of noon everything changes. In three separate locations screens bust into life and there is sudden intense activity. Searches locating a specific IP address and GUI’s are started and people are shouting across each other. Everyone knows how important it is to trace this computer, it’s location and who is operating it and before anyone else possibly can. In the Minister’s office a call is patched through. “Yes,” says the Minister with a voice of dejection and resignation. A quiet authoritative voice speaks, ‘Someone has just plugged in the USB stick.”
12.05. Messages are transmitted to various teams to be ‘on standby’. Body shapes change as people go from a state of semi comatose to alert. The man sitting in his pyjamas is still being questioned and losing the will to live. Apart from falling asleep he has done nothing wrong but they won’t believe him. The door is suddenly opened and with one look his two questioners jump up and leave the room. He is left with two people dressed in black and both armed. He tries a ‘raised shoulders’ slight grin but it cuts no ice. He glances down and see the stupid gap in the front of his is pyjama trousers are open. The worst day of his life has just got even worse.
12.10. GPS and search programmes run speedily and silently closing in on the location and ownership of the computer in which the USB stick has been inserted. In her living room Tracey-Rebecca stares at the white box asking for the password. ‘Of course it would be password protected’ she thinks and ejects it. After a moment she types in ‘password generators’ in the google search box and starts to read about the most common forms of passwords. In a number of offices there is a collective sigh of frustration, anger and profanity as the signal drops out. Have they got enough?
12.15. We have drunk our coffee and Faith checks her watch and says in an innocent way, “I wonder if we have the wrong time? Perhaps you could call him?” His wife picks up a landline and presses ‘quick call’ 1. After a few moments she turns and says, “It’s gone straight to ansaphone I’m afraid. I’ll try his work mobile, I’m not supposed to have the number really,” she says in a conspiratorial voice. As she presses 2 Faith knocks her cup onto the floor. She has read the woman correctly as she immediately hangs up and runs to get a cloth from the kitchen to remove the stain from the cream carpet. Without a pause Faith is up, presses 2 on the phone and takes down the number on the screen then we are out of the door and away as the woman returns.
12.20. The area has been tracked with differing levels of accuracy and range by the opposing sides. They know that it is near Betcherton and once again teams are despatched. One team has been there already and sat waiting at the Ground One Coffee Shop before being sent elsewhere. Now everyone who is travelling in cars and vans realises that this is the best chance they have. They have to retrieve the object. A call through to the Minister lets him know that things are moving again. The young man at the desk knows that the Zurich team are the best he has. The game has started again.
12.25. We are back in the Genius bar and Faith is searching the web whilst I discuss the various merits of memory sizes on the iPad to keep eyes away from her work. She has had to go into one of the ‘Departments’ websites and we know that this will be noticed. We can only hope that it will be some time before the information is fed up the chain. She suddenly stands bolt upright and turns to me. “Do you have the answers you need?” she says to me. I reply quickly and we leave the shop. Outside she tells me who the mobile number belongs to I feel a state of shock tremble through me.
12.30. She is not going to be able to sleep and she is not going to be able to open the USB stick. She sees her mug of coffee undrunk on the table. The top has a surface of curdled milk. She goes over to the fridge and sniffs the milk. An involuntary gag in her throat tells her it is off and that is doubled by the thought she could have drunk it. She picks up her purse and bag and sees the USB stick which, for an unknown reason, she slips in her bag. She leaves the house and walks up towards the Ground One Coffee Shop
12.35. In the Reptile House at London Zoo a man stands staring at a crocodile. Neither move nor seem to take their eyes off each other. An outside observer might note that the crocodile seems more wary. In the reflection of the glass the man sees another gentleman walk up behind him. Momentarily the man takes his focus from the crocodile and to the reflected eyes of the gentleman who turns immediately and drops an envelope onto a nearby seat. The man turns his attention back to the crocodile and counts to 80. As he turns from the tank the crocodile snaps into the air. Any other people in the area turn to watch. Quietly the man retrieves the envelope.
12.40. Faith and I are sitting talking through what we now know. It would appear that whatever could go wrong has gone wrong and most will think we are responsible. We need to get a message through to Control and let them know what has happened and who we now think is involved and responsible for the chaos. There is only one direct route and will put as it risk but after going through all the other options – it does seem our only choice.
12.45. “Hi Trace, night shift?” says the café owner. She nods with a tired expression and asks for a Double Macchiato to go. She looks around the café which is unusually busy and filled with suits. There is very little conversation. She turns to Ed who owns Ground One. “Busy here today,” she says. “It’s been an odd day. First thing this morning this lot arrive, order drinks, pay then run out leaving them behind. About half an hour ago they turn up again. Seems like they’re waiting for something. Tracey-Rebecca changes her mind and asks for her coffee to drink in.
12.50. They have both narrowed the signal from the USB to a street. Unfortunately for them it is mainly blocks of flats. In both office teams are running names and addresses through systems to see if any trigger any known links. It’s like an episode of Heir Hunters but without the dull commentary and actually interesting. As they search information is being passed through to the teams. Everyone is in the state of nervous expectation. They know it’s a race.

12.55. The Minister is doing his best to report progress. The only really good news is that the USB still exists, whoever has not yet opened it and they have a slight trace on its whereabouts. Other than that it sounds like a catalogue of chaos and cock up. The Minister is still trying to deflect blame to those around him but those above are clear about who they blame. He hangs up the phone and returns to the window. The walls either side are filled with photographs of him meeting some of the most famous and notorious people in the world.

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