Troubleshooter

Chapter 24 - General's Morning

           

GENERAL ROGER McAllister began his days at 5:30 sharp. He sat at his desk at Thames House that was home to the British Security Service, formerly know as MI5. Located on the banks of the River Thames, it was relatively close to the centers of power at Downing Street, the Parliament and the sister organization MI6.

McAllister's title was relatively obscure: "Liaison Military Intelligence", something between a soldier and a spy, which suited him fine. He reported basically to no one, could launch operations under limited regulatory control and the best part: he had Army, MI5 and MI6 resources at his disposal.

The first two hours of the day he spent reading reports, making recommendations and writing memos. That cleared the desk for more important work. At 7:30 sharp he heard the rattles of his aide Lieutenant Irene Richards in the front office. She was half-British, half-Indian, hence the whitest of skin and blackest of hair and eyes. She was 32 years old with two kids in school, and a teacher husband, and she was a master of efficiency, juggling private and Army life. A former SAS elite soldier, she had gladly accepted a position that kept her in the cloak and dagger business but close to home at the same time. Some aide-jobs to generals in the British Army were nothing more than errand-boys, but both Richards and McAllister understood that Richards was fully capable of running a war herself, despite her lower rank and title.

Both went to the coffee machine for their joint start of the day and exchanged small talk. Back at the office McAllister briefed her on the stuff he had worked on during the last hours, after which they both went through the various situation reports that had gathered overnight.

The morning went fast, an ordinary day at the office. At 10:00, Richards patched a call through while McAllister was in a meeting. "Sorry to interrupt, General. Scotland Yard on the line for you, verified."

Scotland Yard—that was always bad news. Typically, Intelligence and Police paths never crossed. When they did, it meant that either a foreign spy or terrorist had been caught, or one of your own had been killed. Richard's "verified" remark just indicated to the general that the person he was talking to was indeed from the police.

He apologized to his meeting members and leaned back in his chair. "General McAllister speaking."

"Sir, this is Superintendent Gordon, Scotland Yard."

"What can I do for you, Superintendent?"

"We have had contact with a flagged individual this morning." Whenever the police did a routine or case-related check of a person's identity, fingerprint or otherwise, it was possible that instead of the desired result, like address or criminal record information, no information came up. Instead a message appeared for the police with instructions about what to do under certain circumstances.

"Who is it?"

"It is a male individual in his fifties. The name from the fingerprint record says Christian Brady. The flag said to inform MI5 Army Liaison and MI6 in case of violence or death suspected."

"How is he?"

"He is dead, Sir. Shot. Do you have any instructions for us?"

"Give Lieutenant Richards your contact details. Someone from our shop will get in touch with you ASAP."

McAllister transferred the call back to Richards. Then he looked up at his meeting participants. "I'll need to postpone. Something came up." Everyone shuffled out.

Richards came in and saw her boss in deep thought. "Need me, General?"

"Do you know how to place the late Mr. Brady?"

Richards shook her head. "I looked his name up in WIW and took a look at his profile but it didn't ring a bell." WIW was short for Who-Is-Who, a directory of operatives and contractors, either covert or open. It contained only the barest information, including an internal service contact, but no specific mission details.

"I know him. I knew him," McAllister corrected himself. "He was a logistics guy from around Liverpool or Manchester. Good chap. Very reliable. I think, I never worked with him directly in the field, but he was the background man for many of missions that I controlled. For a long time. My memory reaches back at least until Berlin and the Wall." And he was part of the Picard disaster that had cost Paul his hand, McAllister remembered now. Coincidence, meeting Paul just yesterday, and at the same time someone from Paul's old crew gets killed?

"I'll find out whether he was currently working for us."

McAllister nodded. "Could you also send someone over from Five to check out the circumstances of his death?"

"Sure, I think Agent Jenkins can make room."

She went outside and was back within a minute, a curious look on her face.

"General, there is something else. When I gave Jenkins the location, I crosschecked it against the phone directory. Brady was found dead in the house of a Tess Herbert."

McAllister shook his head; he did not recognize that name.

"She is a senior manager at the company your daughter is working for: Strom Defense."

"Shit!" McAllister's brain fired in many directions at the same time. "Get me Paul Trouble on the line."