The Network - Jason Elliot [28]
He doesn’t need to explain where the plan’s leading.
‘We can put you onto the source while you’re out there and you can do some fishing to see who bites. Could be a bit risky, but if you run a tight ship we should be alright. You feeling OK? It’s a lot for one session, I know. I thought I’d give you a little tour to cheer you up. There’s just one more thing. It’s alright, this is the fun part. Gadgets. Back in a minute.’
He gathers up the files and leaves the room while the image of Orpheus floats stubbornly in my vision. Then he returns with two small white cardboard boxes, which he opens on the table.
‘Let’s have a look at what the tossers have got for you. Sorry – another in-joke, I’m afraid. Technical and Operations Support. They decide on the kit for an op.’
From the first box he takes out a Motorola mobile telephone with a stubby antenna. ‘Identical to the real thing but there’s a chip inside that screens the call with white noise,’ he says. ‘Even the NSA can’t get their grubby hands on the signal. It’s GPS-enabled so we can keep track of it even if it’s switched off. It’ll also record a conversation up to sixteen hours.’ He shows me the keypad configurations for each instruction. ‘Now this is good. Have you ever used a firefly?’
I’ve heard of the small infrared strobes called fireflies being used by special forces, but never actually seen one.
‘It’s the next best thing to the military version. There’s no visible output, but to anyone with night vision gear it’ll look like a searchlight. Land a heli with it if you need to.’ I don’t know if he’s serious. ‘There’s an ultraviolet function too. Use it with this.’ Opening the second box, he takes out an ordinary-looking gel-ink pen with a retractable tip. A single click causes it to produce visible black ink. A second activates a flow of ink that’s only visible under a narrow frequency of ultraviolet light. To demonstrate, he draws an invisible line from the back of his hand to the surface of the table, then keys a sequence on the keypad of the phone. As he holds the phone over the table, a bright white streak appears on the table, merging with the streak on his hand as he draws it closer. The slightest movement of an object marked with the ink, when viewed under the light from the phone, will be immediately obvious.
‘Use it for security when you’re out and about, and you’ll always know if anyone’s been in your stuff,’ he says. ‘You need to sign for these, by the way.’ He leaves the room again and returns with a final folder containing the release forms, carrying a long dark-blue overcoat and elegantly battered leather briefcase. He drapes the coat over the back of a chair, then notices a bulge in the fabric and removes from the inner pocket some envelopes and a chequebook. I just make out the Coutts emblem embossed on the black outer cover before it disappears into his briefcase.
Our briefing is over. I stand up and wander over to the windows. The river looks grey and sullen. Closer to, I can see the chequerboard pattern in dark and light tiles of the veranda below us.
‘Don’t do that, please,’ says Seethrough.
‘Don’t do what?’
‘Stand by the windows. We don’t do that.’
I return to the table and ask him why the windows are so thick. They’re not as green as they look from the outside, but they’re visibly thicker than normal windows.
‘Something called TEMPEST. Can’t remember what it stands for. It’s to stop people listening to our computers. If you’re very clever you can actually detect the little bits of radiation coming out of the screens and piece them all together somehow. That’s it,’ he remembers. ‘Tiny Electro-Magnetic Particles Emitting Secret Things.’
I’m never entirely sure when he’s joking. He gathers up his coat and case and we walk back along the corridor to the lifts. As we’re waiting he turns to me with a smile and says: ‘Welcome to the wonderful world of deniable operations.’
‘I’ve always wondered what exactly that means.’
‘It means,’ he explains thoughtfully, ‘that if the whole thing goes pear-shaped and you get yourself killed in Afghanistan,