A/N Hello peeps! Yes, I know, its been a while. But genius takes time you know! And I have written some of the later chapters too, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long for some more! This chapter, as its title suggests, is just a Situation Report - a look at how the land lies before all hell breaks loose again! Bear with me...
This chapter is dedicated to SAndyLeePotts, Prawn Crackers and Mijo54 for their unswavering patience! Love you guys! xxx
Commander Fred Thompson sat, laid back in the leather chair, feet upon the desk, mulling over events. It was quite clinical here in Lester's office, he thought. No, his office, he amended. It was his office now. With a slight stretch, he opened the drawer to his left and smiled - a half full bottle of decent whisky and a cut glass tumbler nestled cosily inside. He might actually begin to like Lester at this rate.
Pouring himself a generous glass of whisky, he frowned. No, he could never like the man; he was a criminal, whose patriotism had been brought into serious question. A staunch patriot himself, Thompson despised anyone who fell below his high ideals. The renegade, Becker, has shown himself to be a traitor, cunning and clever, willing to involve others in his wrongdoing - a cowardly act in Thompson's view. And Lester had willingly aided and abetted this dangerous terrorist. In fact, the entire senior staff seemed capable of serious breaches of national security. That's why it was imperative that they were relieved of their posts and the ARC placed under the direction of MI6.
He reached for the files on his desk - retrieved from the Archive Storage Room deep in the bowels of the ARC. He read about the anomalies, about Nick Cutter and his wife, Helen (nutters, both of them, he decided). He was most interested in the so-called "spaghetti junction" of anomalies, the Anomaly Opening Device first used by Helen Cutter, and, the most recent revelation - that anomalies opened up all over the world. To be able to control when and where the anomalies opened to would be extremely useful to MI6. Great Britain's national security - and the security of its agents all over the world - would be greatly increased by this power.
He lifted the telephone receiver and spoke to the tech at the ADD.
"How are you faring with the Lockdown?" he asked tersely.
He could see the tech grinning through the glass walls of the office.
"She was good - very clever firewalls, sir. But she's no match for me! Nearly lifted now, sir."
"Very well. Keep at it. I want it lifted within the hour." Thompson paused, frowning. "And get the foremost physicist in the country here urgently."
His face darkened as he listened to the tech's reply. "I don't care who they are or where they are - this is a matter of national security and their presence is required by Her Majesty's Secret Service immediately!" His tone was disparaging - who or what could be more important than that?
"Yes sir," responded the tech, meekly.
"Good - and have him sign the Official Secrets Act before permitting his entry to the building." Thompson's tone brooked no argument from the tech. The put-upon young man replied in the affirmative and Thompson slammed down his receiver. Damn it, he was surrounded by idiots!
Sighing, he leant back again in Lester's chair. No, his chair - it was his chair now. Couldn't his colleagues see the importance of the chance they had been given? Well, ok, taken, then. He smiled. The chance to be able to protect one's country by reconnoitring the enemy completely unannounced - no ports, no airports, no passports. Just control of a flickering, golden light and one could show up any place and any time, thereby changing current events to one's beloved country's advantage. Britain would be Great once more. His chest puffed with pride that he would be the one to bring this tiny island out of obscurity and back to its rightful place on the world stage. The repercussions of his plan held little concern for him - that by changing the past he would be affecting countless lives. This was collateral damage as far as Thompson was concerned. The re-instatement of Great Britain as a world power was of far greater importance than the lives of any individuals.
He was distracted from his musings by a loud whoop from the Ops Room and the tech's voice gabbled excitedly over the ARC's main communication system.
"Lockdown lifted, sir! I've done it - all systems are up and running!"
Commander Fred Thompson stood. Now the real work could begin.
Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Hicks paced the floor of the guest quarters where they had been incarcerated. Two guards had been placed outside the door to ensure they could not escape. The room had been stripped down to only a single chair, a bed and a table so there was nothing with which to occupy themselves. Hicks was becoming increasingly frustrated. He sighed angrily.
"How are we supposed to help the Captain from in here?" he demanded, moving his hand through his hair.
Carter, on the other side of the room, remained infuriatingly calm.
"We're fortunate to be held in here, Hicks," he told the solider, casting a searching gaze around the room. "No cameras, no listening devices, no way for MI6 to check on us without opening the door - giving us just enough warning of their presence." He grinned. "There's plenty of plotting that can be done from in here!"
Hicks turned to face his superior. "And how does that help Captain Becker when we have no means of communicating with him?" he asked, a little sarcastically.
Carter just smiled enigmatically. "Wait and see, Sergeant, wait and see."
Hicks frowned and continued his pacing.
Becker and Jess made it back to the hotel without any further mishap. They found the others in Matt and Emily's room and Becker especially was relieved to see everyone together and unharmed. Connor was sat at the table, hunched over a new laptop, creating encryption systems and firewalls to protect them from any prying eyes. His fingers flew over the keyboard, soft clicks sounding rapidly as he made contact with the plastic. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a deep groove between them, his tongue poking out between his lips. Occasionally he would make "kapow" noises as each firewall was completed.
Matt, Abby and Emily sat on the large double bed, pouring over the details of the house that the two women had procured. Matt listened as Emily explained their choice of property. It was a large Victorian terraced house with an entrance hall and kitchen on the lower floor, two large reception rooms and a bedroom with en-suite on the middle floor. One reception and the bedroom had doors accessing a good sized balcony giving an excellent vista across the city. The top floor boasted two further bedrooms and a "Jack and Jill" bathroom. There was an old wrought iron fire escape running down the rear wall of the property and a cellar beneath the kitchen with access to the outside via a coal shute. It was a large house, suitable for all of them, non-descript and as anonymous as any of the other houses on the same street, with good visibility over the gardens and several entry - or indeed exit - points should they need them. Matt nodded his approval and Abby told him they had paid a deposit and could move in as early as tomorrow.
Becker had to admit he was impressed. The house exceeded his expectations and he was sure it would make a good base of operation. He was about to congratulate Abby and Emily when Connor whooped from the table behind him. They all turned to see Jess stood next to a jubilant Connor who was doing a victory dance in his chair. He stopped as he saw the team's quizzical expressions and grinned widely.
"Firewalls set up, encryption sequences completed. We can go anywhere on this baby and MI6 will never know!" he declared happily.
Becker strode over to him.
"Have you set up the Youtube account I asked for?" he demanded, pleased with Connor's work but not about to let the scientist know that.
Connor's smile faltered fractionally before he replied. "Yep, just as you asked for." He demonstrated by accessing the account immediately.
"Great," Becker said grimly. "Add a video - text only."
Connor clicked a few keys. "Okay, what do you want me to upload?"
Becker grabbed a notepad and wrote down a series of strange shapes before thrusting it in front of Connor.
"Ooooh, a secret code!" Connor exclaimed animatedly. "Do we get cool nicknames now too?" His excited eyes met Becker's stony serious ones and his jovial expression fell. "Oh, okay, so - not then."
Becker shook his head and moved towards Matt to discuss the logistics of moving house and fortifying the perimeter.
Lieutenant Collier sauntered towards the MI6 guards stationed outside the guest quarters with a tray containing a soup tureen, two bowls and some roughly torn hunks of bread. The guards raised their hands to arrest his advance and Collier grinned.
"The boss says the criminals must be fed to keep them healthy for interrogation," he announced loudly.
The guards eyed him suspiciously. After all, just because Commander Thompson had promoted him, it didn't mean they had to trust him, right? He was only there to keep the remaining ARC soldiers in line.
"What's in the pot?" demanded Jenkins, the more senior of the two guards.
"Soup," grinned Collier. "Thompson wants them fed - but not too well fed."
The guards grinned back, agreeing with their Commander. However, their suspicious nature prevailed and Jenkins insisted on inspecting the tray and lifting the lid on the tureen just to be sure. Tomato soup - yeuch. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and replaced the lid, motioning to Collier to continue on.
The loud knock reverberated off the steel door making Hicks jump and spin around to face the threat. The door grated open to reveal Collier and his soup. Carter bridled immediately on seeing the soldier, the traitor.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming in here, Collier!" he threatened, his voice low and menacing.
Collier ignored him and placed the tray down on the one and only table.
"The new boss thought you should eat. I disagreed - a little starvation may have sped up your attitude adjustments." Collier snickered. "Still, enjoy your dry bread and lukewarm soup."
Almost snarling, Carter edged forward but Collier had already turned and exited the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.
Grinning, Carter turned to Hicks.
"Time to eat!" he announced, lifting the lid from the soup tureen.
Hicks was confused by Carter's apparent and sudden change of mood and even more so when the Lieutenant delved his hand into the tomato soup.
"Carter - what the hell?" he demanded.
Carter's grin widened as his fingers curled around an object in the soup. He was glad Collier had been right about one thing - the temperature of the soup was just tepid, cool enough not to melt the skin from his arm at least! He retrieved his hand, fingers now clasped around something kept safe from the soup in a sealed plastic bag. Chuckling at Hicks' incredulous expression, Carter unwrapped the object - a small tablet device, 3G so as not to be detected on the main ARC internet signal. He held it up triumphantly and watched Hicks' jaw drop.
"Now we can communicate," he told the Sergeant smugly.
"Becker's idea?" asked Hicks when he finally found his voice and Carter nodded. "You know," continued Hicks. "The more I get to know him, the more that man scares the hell out of me."
Carter chuckled in agreement.
The Lieutenant switched on the device and immediately accessed the Youtube channel that he and the Captain had discussed a few days earlier in the armoury.
"Yes!" he muttered as he found a video had already been uploaded. But the video made no sense and his euphoria faded. It was just a jumble of shapes - it meant nothing!
Sighing, he set the tablet down on the bed. He had known Becker would message him in code - but he had thought it would at least be a code he could decipher!
Hicks picked up the tablet and shook his head.
"What the hell does that mean?" he asked in frustration.
"Unfortunately I have no idea," replied Carter, a little dejectedly. But he knew he was going to have to work out the cipher and quickly if they were to be of any use to the Captain at all.
Hicks began ranting, something about "Becker using a code that they had half a hope of deciphering" but Carter wasn't really listening. His mind was racing. What if he couldn't figure it out? What if he failed? He couldn't disappoint Captain Becker, he just couldn't!
Some of Hicks' rant began to filter back into Carter's brain -
"- I mean, I know a code shouldn't be decipherable by the world and his mother but it should at least mean something to us, shouldn't it!"
Carter sat rigid on the bed. What had he said? The world and his mother? Something about that expression rang loud bells in Carter's subconscious. The world and his mother…his mother. The light bulb flicked on and Carter grabbed the tablet, staring hard at the shaped outlined there. A few short months ago, Carter had commanded the mission to rescue Becker's mother from the Afghani terrorists. During that mission he had learnt that the elderly lady was blind. He had spent a short while in her house in Hampshire where he remembered many of the books in the library were translated into Braille, the language blind people read with their fingertips. Could that be it? Could these shapes, these symbols, simply be Braille? Not willing to get Hicks' hopes up, he left the Sergeant to his ranting whilst he grabbed a napkin from the soup tray and a pen that he had hidden in his boot. Using the tablet, he Googled the Braille alphabet, carefully transcribing each shape, each letter, accurately onto the napkin. Then he flicked back to the video and translated:
"Carter. If you can read this, upload a reply with a sit rep. Out."
The Lieutenant grinned. Yep, sometimes his boss scared the hell out of him.
A/N So, a "nothing really happens" chapter. But there is a point to it - I promise! Let me know your thoughts by clicking on the little button below... :D
xxx