Title: History Lesson
Disclaimer: I own no rights, I make no profit.
Chapter 6 – Apocalypse Quartered
My brother Sherlock has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the available surveillance cameras in the greater London Metropolitan area. I had never bothered storing such information since I was inevitably on the Seek side of any Hide and Seek games that he or anyone else would play. By the time we reached our destination however, it became clear to me that Bond had something similar. The more I reflected on our path to date I realized that Bond was not only strategically using blind spots but also busy intersections, crowds and traffic patterns to give any recognition algorithm absolute fits. That explained a lot about his uncanny ability to drop off my surveillance when on mission.
We had started off making a blatant show of getting out of town on the M4 then ducked off onto side roads and circled around to come into London again from the north-west. Alec's bike was ubiquitous in many respects so we didn't ditch it. We swapped out helmets a couple times by the simple expedient of switching them with those on parked bikes. At one point we exchanged jackets and I even drove with Bond riding pillion for a time to switch up our profile. Of course all the subterfuge was potentially rendered ineffective due to the fact that we were carrying a rather distinctively shaped large package containing one wrapped sword the entire time. We did change the outside wrapping a couple times as well as acquired and discarded additional shopping bags so maybe the sword was not quite as conspicuous as it felt.
Eventually we ended up a nondescript storage garage. Bond got off the bike and punched a code into a keypad. I suppose I was expecting an Audi, an Aston-Martin or some other high performance vehicle. What was sitting in the unit however was a several year old grey Volkswagen Golf.
My face must have shown my surprise because Bond smiled at me saying, "Camouflage."
I thought for a moment; it made sense. The only thing better for blending in would have been a white Ford Fiesta. I maneuvered the bike into the garage and Bond closed the door behind us.
"We'll be here for a little bit," Bond informed me as he headed for a large tool chest.
I parked the bike, unloaded then covered it with a slightly dirty tarp that I found sitting in a corner. The dust I raised in the process would, I hoped, make it look at least superficially like the bike hadn't been moved for a while. I transferred our stuff to the backseat of the car then took the time to look around. The car took up most of the room but along one wall was the aforementioned tool chest, a small work bench and some storage cabinets. I idly wondered what they contained. While I was busy Bond had opened the tool chest and was rummaging around in it. He looked over at me then, as if sensing my thoughts, he started talking.
"We are a paranoid lot," he remarked. "Most of the 00's have multiple cashes off the books. We also tend know the locations and access codes to a few of the other's spots. This one at least nominally belongs to Laura but Alec and I have used it often enough so that it's turned into a shared area." He pulled out a mobile and it's charger then jerked his chin at one of the cabinets, "Clothes are in there. Switch out your jacket and grab a hat and scarf that will fit me. I need to set up our accommodations."
I opened the indicated cabinet and started looking for something suitable. Behind me I could hear Bond making a call. From what I could hear of the conversation he appeared to be talking to a rental company of some sort. After a bit of back and forth he rang off just as I found an appropriate hat. At that point it was simple to snag a scarf and jackets.
"So?" I asked closing the cabinet and turning around.
"Some time ago a Mr. Hoffman and a Mr. Brodrick provided startup funds for a holiday rental business. In exchange they get access to the properties whenever they request it."
Interesting. Once again it made a lot of sense. Why own a specific location that would sit empty much of the time when you could have access to a rotating series of flats and houses. The security would be top notch and the neighbors would be used to different people occupying the premises for a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The only thing better for anonymity would be a high end hotel but Bond, like many of the 00's was well known for using such places to hole up. I suspected that this was at least one way the Bond and Trevelyan managed to stay under the radar in London. Now hopefully the flat in question would have decent internet access.
Once again Bond continued as if reading my mind, "And all of them have direct internet access."
I grinned, "What are we waiting for?"
"You to change jackets and put on that scarf," was the reply.
I did and we were off again this time in the VW.
I was surprised at how quickly we arrived at our destination. Bond didn't take major evasive action as he had with the motorbike. No this time he made what I realized later was only a minor detour to ensure that we were not currently being tailed. It was only about 20 minutes before Bond was looking for parking.
"The only problem with this set-up," he remarked as he pulled into a just vacated space, "is that many of the properties don't have a garage."
"Could be useful if they haven't made your vehicle," I replied, "you wouldn't get blocked in."
"I tend to prefer keeping the car off the street; less likely to be randomly spotted by someone. I also feel it's better to have transport easy to hand in case you need to move quickly. If they've tracked you to a safe-house then you have bigger problems." Bond paused for a moment, "In that case you are probably leaving via a window and ditching the car anyway."
I had to smile to myself at that one. The number of times 007 had managed to escape using creative defenestration, either his own or someone else's, was legion.
"Just refrain from throwing me out said window and I'll be happy," I replied as we unloaded.
Bond led us around the corner and over a half block to a nice looking walk up, no different from any of its neighbors. Like many buildings in London this block had originally been a set of row houses that had been divided up into flats at some point. I could tell by looking that someone had done a major renovation job on this bit of the block only a few years ago.
Bond slid aside a cover on a box cleverly made to match the trim revealing a keypad. He punched in a number and I heard the lock click open.
I didn't quite know what I had been expecting when Bond said holiday rental company but what I walked into was a tastefully furnished flat. The quality was mid to high range hotel, not luxury but comfortable.
"There should be a binder in the sitting room," Bond directed. "It will have the basic internet access information. If you need the router or the connection itself you are on your own."
Bond continued on to make a circuit of the flat, checking security and making sure we were alone. I found the binder and took a quick look at the information. Internet was via cable modem with wi-fi which meant the modem and the router would be somewhere on the line to the television. It was a matter of moments to find both in the TV cabinet. Even better I discovered that someone had etched a series of numbers into the back of the modem. That would, I suspected, get me into the setup program without my having to hack it. Thank heavens for small favors. I unpacked my gear in the dining nook and got down to work.
Bond proceeded to organize and repack most of our shared resources in the sitting room. Once he'd finished with that job he proceeded to clean his gun. Despite appearing engrossed in his self-appointed tasks he would stop every 45 minutes or so and prowl around the flat.
After the latest round of prowling Bond inquired "You have a stopping spot?"
"10 minutes."
"I'm ordering takeaway, any preferences?"
"Anything but pizza," I replied.
I heard Bond on the landline. It sounded like Indian was the cuisine du jour. That was followed shortly by the sounds of water and a kettle. A mug of tea appeared next to my left hand. I grunted my thanks.
By the time I had finished up the food had arrived and I was ready for a break. I stood up, stretched and holstered the pistol that I'd left sitting on the right side of the laptop while I'd been working.
"Do I want to know?" Bond asked indicating the firearm and its holster on the table.
"Mental focus trick," I replied as we adjourned to the sitting room and food.
I wondered if Bond was insulted that I'd seemingly not trusted in his ability to protect me. I expected some allusion to that but was a bit surprised that Bond didn't immediately follow up. Instead he handed me an already made up plate. It was only after I'd managed to eat most of it that he broached the subject again.
"Generally when a pistol is pointed at me I become very focused indeed," he remarked. "However I'm of the opinion that wasn't your intent."
"It's a technique I developed early on when I realized that I had a tendency to lose track of what was going on around me," I explained. "I keep something in my peripheral vision to remind me to remain aware of my surroundings. The particular item used and its placement tell me exactly how much concentration I can afford."
"Do you often feel the need to use a firearm Q?"
"Not recently. Not in the branch."
Given what Bond knew of my history I suspected he would be able to determine exactly when and in what circumstances it had been necessary.
"But," I continued, "I can't use it for the next bit."
I looked over at him. I hoped he'd get where I was going without a lot of explanation.
"So what exactly are you going to be doing that requires your full concentration?"
"An excursion into the dark web," I replied. "This whole situation has the earmarks of being the tip of an iceberg. I need to go poke around and see if there are hints of anything big going on."
Bond looked thoughtful at that, "The internet equivalent of infiltrating the Sicilian Mafia then."
I remembered that mission: A simple intelligence gathering exercise that took a left turn when Bond had stumbled across an assassination plot against a sitting head of state.
"Good analogy," I replied.
"How long do you think you'll need?"
"A couple hours to start; I need to reactivate and reestablish Pestilence. Then I'll see what I can find."
Bond sighed, "And you complain about me overusing the Bond legend when you are masquerading on line as one of the four horseman of the apocalypse?"
I smiled, "Not masquerading 007. I earned that title and no one else has had the chops to claim it since."
Bond muttered something that sounded like cocky hackers under his breath then asked, "So what do you need me to do besides the obvious?"
I was pleased that he had asked. It meant that he was taking me seriously as a full and capable member of the enterprise as opposed to the last time I had found myself under his watchful eye. We then proceeded to discuss ways to get my attention without interrupting and set up a variety of contingency measures. With all that and dinner out of the way I moved back to the dining nook and commenced my dive into the bowels of cyberspace.
An indeterminate time later I surfaced and stretched. Given how I felt and the state of my bladder it had been quite some time.
"A little after three hundred," said Bond as he handed me a cup of tea when I finally wandered into the Kitchen. "You find anything?"
"Nothing about that," my eyes went to the hilt of the sword that I could see poking over his left shoulder in its makeshift sheaf and baldric "but I did run across some other interesting stuff."
"Do tell."
"Well it's been quiet for the last couple of weeks. Only the usual identity theft, phishing expeditions and scams are active. Most of the high level black hats are lying low because the FBI managed to find and plug their leak."
"What kind of leak and does it affect us?"
"Oh the cousins have had a low level inside leaker for a while. They've been using it to plant information," I explained. "They weren't too worried about it until he upped his game and finagled his way into some top secret files. It was something related to the CIA's black ops programs and had some sort of tie into the state department. They didn't even realize he'd snagged it until they got hacked by Radical Ed."
"Radical Ed?" Bond looked confused.
I supposed I'd better explain, "Radical Edward the Forth is a quasi-grey hat hacker. He gets his kicks getting into anything and everything then leaving notes on how to improve security. The story I got was that Radical Ed hacked NCIS and realized that someone had been in before him. He back traced it into DOD and realized that the same hacker had been in the CIA's servers. He dumped his findings on NCIS and they looped the FBI in. The resultant shit storm made everyone and their brother decide to lay low for a bit."
"From what Felix has mentioned," Bond commented, "the FBI can get a little over enthusiastic at times. Although there's a guy I've met in their Washington office who is decently subtle."
I let that one go and continued, "The leak was selling candidate vetting lists for some kind of black ops controller position. The U.S. was trying to fill one of these positions and apparently they don't just limit their vetting to in house sources they also ask allied nations to see if the candidates pop up in their data. The hacker not only got their current candidate list but also some older lists from other countries when they were trying to fill a similar position."
"They didn't bother to destroy the old lists? I thought their security protocols were better than that?"
"Oh they did but they just deleted it and didn't wipe the free space. That particular drive isn't used much so the hacker was able to recover a bunch of the old lists."
Bond looked puzzled, "And this is relevant because?"
"Well I had to hack the CIA for that one. I found out that one of the old lists was ours. It was over five years old but they still sent out an alert that it was released. What's really interesting," I added, "is that the alert doesn't go to anyone in MI 5 or through me. It goes to some strange international cooperation division of the Home Office that I've never heard of before."
"Your brother then?" Bond asked.
"Surprisingly no. Some low level guy named Kirkland who is nominally under my brother."
"So what makes this Kirkland fellow so important that he is the contact for a leak of potentially obsolete information?" Bond mused half to himself.
"That's the next step," I admitted. "I need to find anything and everything about one Arthur Kirkland."
