22.34. Near the McLean's home, Cambridge.
Detective Inspector Frank Morgan of the Anti-Terrorist Operations Group was becoming increasingly agitated. He didn't like operating so close to the limelight, preferring to do his job out of the public eye. Instead he and his covert snatch squad found themselves in this bizarre situation, skulking beyond the bright lights cast by the TV news crew who had beaten them to their objective.
No, this assignment was fishy as you like, Morgan thought. It wasn't just the nature of their target; the man's profile was far from that of the extremists ATOG routinely dealt with, but also the instructions - presumably originating from far up in the command structure - to be as unobtrusive as possible when apprehending their target which also made Frank wonder. It was as if the legal basis for this arrest was uncertain, the person ordering the pick-up having something to hide. Morgan didn't like it one bit.
Frank watched as a thickset man walked calmly up to the rear of their car before getting inside, slumping heavily into the back seat then quietly pulling the door shut behind him to avoid attracting attention.
"I let them think I was a reporter." the agent said. "The neighbours I spoke to confirmed the family left shortly before the news crew arrived." He nodded at a curious couple looking on at the scene from their open front door.
"Oh well; that's that then!" sighed Morgan "Anything on the FLIR?" he asked the driver, who was observing the McLean's home through a pair of electronically enhanced binoculars.
"Nothing Guv." the man replied. "Only the circus outside. It looks like Gail Burton's going to try knocking on the door again..."
"She's doing it for effect now; it must be obvious there's no one home, even to them." added the fourth policeman sitting behind them, busy monitoring the Connect24 broadcast on a tablet.
"We're not achieving anything by staying here." Frank decided. "I'm calling it in."
He speed dialed a number on his mobile.
"Hello Sir... We've been observing the location for twenty minutes. The subject's car is not there, and he along with his family were reported to have left shortly before our arrival... Yes, we've confirmed the fact with his neighbours, and remote sensing of the address has revealed nothing to change my opinion the family became aware of the media furore regarding Dr McLean's disclosures in advance and have fled.
No Sir, I don't think it likely they will return home any time soon. We've adopted a low profile so far, but it's only a matter of time before one of the residents or the TV crew notices us and becomes curious. I think it best if we left now... Yes, that would be my recommendation... Understood Sir... Out."
"Let's go home!" Frank said wearily. As the driver eased the car quietly away from the area, Morgan secretly felt relieved Brian McLean hadn't been there for him to collar. This operation appeared to be stretching the definition of state security way beyond the accepted limits: It was far too politically motivated to him; a matter beyond ATOG's remit. Silently he wished the McLean family the best of luck in evading the clutches of a state overreaching its authority to an unnerving extent. How long they would be able to remain at liberty was a moot point, sooner or later they'd be picked up by the Orwellian surveillance systems which permeated the fabric of the UK. The only question was when.
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23.05. Stuart Pullman's Home.
Stuart Pullman was burning the midnight oil preparing himself for what could be a crucial cabinet meeting tomorrow. His wife Elizabeth had left him alone and gone to bed. As he heard the news Christopher Parsons phoned him, his heart sank.
"Sorry Stuart, but your bird had flown before ATOG could catch him."
"Bugger!"
"And there's worse; Connect24 seem to have a bee in their bonnet about the story. Gail Burton was on the scene by the time the agents arrived. She's been knocking on the McLean's door live on air every fifteen minutes on the dot, but fortunately she's not savvy enough to develop the story any further than Nathan Rookley has. Anyway, the boys kept in the background and left the area unnoticed, so as yet there's no official word out that McLean's are under official investigation. You could let the matter drop now and let him stew in his own juice for a while. No one would be any the wiser."
"You mean he's given you the slip!" Pullman replied, exasperated.
"Only temporarily." said Parsons. "He's on the priority watch list now; we're bound to spot him sooner or later."
"When he resurfaces to go public again!"
"Sadly, our surveillance systems aren't quite Minority Report yet. If you were to give me a couple of years with a healthy budget increase, compulsory ID cards and a biometric register, then I might be able to speed the process up, but until McLean pops his head up there's not a great deal we can do. We've got the GeoScan offices, the college where his wife works and his daughter's school staked out, ready to pick any of them up if they show up there. Otherwise it's just a matter of time; he'll have to break cover at some point.
Anyway, maybe by then what he might say won't matter. To be honest I think you're playing this too defensively. Surely someone in your media relations office can draft a holding statement making McLean out to be a gibbering lunatic, or if the issue is raised in the next cabinet as I expect it will be, then propose an interdepartmental working group consider the matter: That should kick it into the long grass for a while."
"Good idea..."
"And as for the news coverage; they'll forget all about it when they've got a bigger story to report; the one you can drop in their lap. You said just a short time ago what was needed was quick, decisive action. Well I think the moment is now. If I'll were you I wouldn't hesitate; leak the Slater story at once and let's bring it to a head. If you delay much longer you'll just give Campbell more opportunities to attack you. Do it now."
Pullman considered for a moment. "Yes, you're right. If I think it looks possible I'll do it. But in the meantime keep the pressure on to find McLean. Even if the threat of his testimony can't be nullified, putting him through the mill will serve as a example to anyone else thinking about causing trouble."
"OK, it's your call. But for God's sake don't blow it all on account of getting drawn into a personal vendetta against a mere pawn; remember you're not the only person with skin in the game: By doing your bidding - especially when this is shaky legal ground - and effectively working for you rather than Rampling, I'm sticking my neck out as well."
"I'm only too aware of that, but thanks for trying anyway. We'll talk again, say at around seven in the morning?"
"Fine. 'Bye!" Parsons hung up.
Pullman considered what Parsons had said for a moment; perhaps he was fixating on Brian McLean too much, but being so tantalisingly close to achieving his lifetime ambition he wasn't about to take the slightest chance of having the prize wrenched from his grasp. It was best to run the scientist to ground.
As for launching a preemptive attack on the Campbell campaign via their weak link Pippa Slater, the more Stuart thought about it, the more he realised circumstances had boxed him into this corner which he had no choice but to fight his way out of. This may not be the opportune time, but the time was now. Picking up his personal tablet Pullman read for a final time the brief message exposing Slater's affair he'd been composing. Satisfied with its wording, he sent it via untraceable self-destructing message to the few contacts he could be sure would pick up and develop the story. No phony shadow boxing now, Stuart had just thrown the first hard punch of the leadership fight.
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