The Home Office
9 – 30 a.m.
April 17th
“Mr Robinson will see you now.”
The secretary opened the thick wooden door and let the blandly dressed man into the ornate and beautiful office. Behind the desk Tarquin Robinson, the Minister for The Home Office, sat waiting, reading through documents. He was a short and extremely plump man. Known for being outspoken his heavy build, short stature and wobbly chins made him the target of many satirists. This greatly annoyed him as he took himself very seriously. He watched the man walk in; a medium build man, grey suit and nylon mackintosh, hair blonde, though not naturally so as his eyebrows were brown. The man had serious brown eyes and a thin pointed face.
“Have a seat Mr Bentall.”
Bentall sat and waited to be spoken to.
“No-one here aware of who you are?”
“No. Your secretary has a false name. I’m listed as a security firm expert.”
“Good. What can I do for you?”
“I believe that after the last work done for you by my superior he expressed a concern about a certain ‘situation’ and you agreed that ‘elimination’ by some means would be desirable.”
“Indeed I did. Mutually beneficial I think we agreed.”
“You discussed a plan I believe.”
“Yes.”
“That plan is now in motion.” Bentall’s face was impassive as he looked at the man’s black eyes.
Robinson shifted forward in his seat, his bulky body shifting with difficulty in the heavy and softly furnished office chair.
“Is it indeed, is your boss sure this will work?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be safely distanced?”
“Yes.”
“Do his superiors suspect anything?”
“No. We deal with people like this all the time it’s part of departmental work and no traces have been left. Our department is kept at arms length. No-one generally wants to know what we’re up to. It allows them to truthfully deny our work and if need be drop us in it. It’s not a good position. That’s why my superior has sought this…er… alliance, shall we call it?”
“Yes I see. The results on the target will be permanent will they?”
“Finished for good we should think.” Bentall couldn’t resist a small smile.
“The official explanation will pass muster?” Robinson probed somewhat nervously.
“Easily, it seems sensible given the security climate.”
“It’ll be a very satisfactory outcome. The time has come for change in that area.”
“We think so.” Bentall again gave a small smile.
“Your superior will gain from this himself, but what would he like from me?”
“Support.” Bentall had been told to make the cost clear. ”Of course if you’d like to cancel?” He added knowing that the fat, greedy man was hooked.
“No. Let’s proceed. It’s begun now.”
“Good.” Bentall felt in control. The old man was sweating. It was always the same with the power hungry, keen, but afraid when the moment came.
“What if I need to contact your superior?”
“We have a method. A mode of untraceable and disposable contact will simply appear and disappear as easily as you desire or he desires.”
Bentall took out the brown ‘jiffy’ parcel, sealed, and put it on the table.
“One number in the memory, untraceable, registered to a fake name and disposable.”
“Good. That’s all then.” Robinson once again spoke with authority, reminding himself he was speaking to a government lackey.
Bentall got up.
“Thank you minister, I’ll pass your consent to my superior?”
“Please do.”
Bentall left quietly.
Robinson opened the parcel and took out an orange coloured Bic ‘disposable’ cell phone. It was a clever gadget. It came with a pre charged battery and pre paid talk time. He’d seen them in France. This one was citrus orange colour.