The Consultant - NaNoWriMo2021

Chapter 19

I crossed the Thames at approximately ten forty, gazing up at the SIS headquarters that dominated the skyline. I had read that the DG at the time of it's commission, a predecessor of my father it seems, had decided that it was impossible to keep the HQ address secret in a world that was dominated by the internet. He was a prescient chap given that almost nothing is secret these days, so he had taken the opposite approach. If you can't blend in, stand out, and he had certainly achieved that. I walked towards the glass and steel monstrosity known as Vauxhall Cross, or internally at least, Legoland. I was meeting Dad in twenty minutes but first, I had to figure out how to get in. Eventually, circling the place and looking extremely suspicious, I found a gate with a bell and after introducing myself, was buzzed in. After security, which involved being x rayed and scanned for pathogens and biological contaminants, I was given a badge and escorted up to the top floor in what was referred to as the Executive lift. This was bizarre given that until a few hours ago, I had no idea my dad even worked here, let alone ran the place.

'You must be Fin. Welcome. I'm Leo, Leo Duncan.'

'The Lion of SIS?' He grimaced, evidently I was not the first hilarious wit who had suggested this.

'Absolutely,' he said grimacing at me, 'shall we?' I followed Leo through a set of double doors into a huge office with one wall made entirely of glass. This was a penthouse office to be proud of and immaculately suited, and seated behind an entirely clear desk, was my father.

'Fin. Thanks for coming.' He stood and moved to a glass conference table. The office was modern, minimalist and incredibly bare aside from the art, which looked like it had been painted by Daniel.

'They're originals. Rothkos. Borrowed from the Tate. I guess they think they'll be safe here.' He chuckled to himself as he sat down, opening a slim file and unscrewing his favourite silver fountain pen, another gift from my mother.

'It's very...spacious.'

'Yes,' muttered my father, 'if by spacious you mean utilitarian. I like it this way, helps me to think better.' I glanced at Leo to see if he would engage in a bit of solidarity, but his eyes remained fixed on his own file and he refused to even smile.

My father gives me a non-verbal warning; he doesn't miss much and quite a bit of my childhood is beginning to slot into place now. The OCD – a need to have order at home because work is constantly chaotic, the obsessive need for being on time – presumably timing is imperative when you're in the agent running business, the holidaying in the UK – from my recruitment, I know that intelligence officers are not allowed to travel overseas unless its approved, and my father would have been a high profile spook, even then. It all started to make sense now.

'Leo here, my aide-de-camp, assistant if you like, though he is much more than that, will kick us off, as he's been digging around haven't you?'

'I have sir.' The sir throws me a little and I glance at my father, but he is oblivious to my reaction. I guess he's completely used to it, but I find it bizarre, like we are in a scene from a war film, with him as the General. I think he would look rather dashing in a uniform. Anyway, I drag my mind back to the present, to hear what Leo the Lion has to say.

'I'll start with Duncan. We followed up with the property where Fin had her briefing; the details were fake and the fee was a bank transfer paid from an account that no longer exists in Dubai. The bank confirms the account holder was a company registered in the Caymans that once again, no longer exists. Moving cash like this is easy and anonymous so this doesn't come as a shock.

As for his phone, we traced the number and discovered the phone was a burner. It was used for this purpose only, and even though the phone is now untraceable, presumably destroyed, we were able to track it's historical movements via GPRS. Most of the time, the phone was only switched on when a call was being made, and this was always away from any cameras, but there is one occasion when a call was received by the phone from Fin's number, and the owner was walking down a road in Greater London.'