Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Ferrari Delguessimo: An Old Friend

I walked quickly away from the house, phone pressed between my ear and shoulder. I'd looked around the neighbourhood when we arrived, and it was a suburban place with a complex net of one-way streets, speed ramps and all kinds of weird narrow roads designed to slow traffic and make it easier for pedestrians. I'd figured that calling a taxi to the house and going through all the twists and turns, as well as waiting for it, would probably take just as long as walking. Instead I'd catch a cab from Crooklands Corner, where there was nearly always a taxi rank right outside the supermarket.

I didn't need to phone for a ride, then. But I needed to call a certain number. I dialled from memory, not wanting to have this one in my address book.

"Good morning, Paul speaking." He didn't wait for me to speak first. My first thought was that he was breaking protocol, but then I realised I wasn't speaking to the switchboard. It was Trevor's voice on the line. They must consider me to be on an active operation, so any calls from me were automatically tagged through to the commanding officer on site. It was the direct operations protocol, one of the strategies we were all taught but they told us would likely never be used in reality. When it came to debriefings with the political chain of command, heads were going to roll. Because the point of my covert placement had been to avoid the need for a full operation here; if Trevor was in the area, our softly-softly approach hadn't worked.

"Hi Paul," I kept my tone neutral, "Long time no see. I'm in town now, wondered if you'd like to grab a coffee?" Innocent words that an eavesdropper wouldn't be able to get anything out of.

"That sounds like a great idea. You had to leave in a hurry last time we spoke. I'll pick you up in three minutes." Just like that, he hung up. I wondered what he meant, those words weren't in the open line protocol that I knew of. The first comment, presumably, was an offhand rebuke for calling in a helicopter and then not telling them what happened afterwards. But meeting in three minutes, where did he expect me to be? Was I supposed to call back, or would he be coming to my flat? There was no way I'd be back on campus that quickly, and I wasn't sure how long he'd wait for me.

I was off the housing estate now, and outside the supermarket at Crooklands Corner. It was something of a cross between an out-of-town supermarket for the people who lived in the centre, and a local store for a few suburban districts, and so managed to do neither job very well. As usual, there were two taxis sitting outside with the engines running. It might be early in the morning for grocery shopping, but this place was closer than the town centre from a student's point of view, and students were notorious for keeping odd schedules around the days they did or didn't have lectures.

I walked up to the second car, just said "Campus" as I approached the back door. Technically, they were only licensed for pre-booked journeys, so I was supposed to stand on the kerb and call the minicab office from my mobile. It was one of those legal technicalities that few people ever followed, in my experience. Maybe he'd tell me I needed to make the call, but they seldom did.

"What kept you?" he answered this time. I looked down into the car again, this time recognising the man behind the wheel. It was Trevor Halett.

* * *

I got in the back of the car, and Trevor drove. I didn't know if he was taking me back to campus or not, but he was driving along a lot of back streets that I didn't recognise. We had a chance to talk on the way, but my thoughts were plagued by worries that he might not be on my side any more. I didn't think that Trevor was a traitor, we'd worked together often enough that I felt I could trust his loyalty to the country, and to the company, and to the people we were sworn to protect. No, it was me I was worried about. I'd broken protocol to help my friends, and then pretty much gone straight in the face of my orders. The line between agent and traitor was a little blurry in times like these, so I honestly wasn't sure if I'd crossed it.