Inverness to London Sleeper Train
10 – 30 p.m.
April 17th
Spencer had eaten hungrily. Scottish salmon, new potatoes and green beans went down well and quickly. Like Stanton he drank mineral water. Wiping his face he decided to answer the question Stanton had asked just as the food arrived and Stanton, seeing his hunger, had decided to let him eat first.
“I was MI6. I worked for dirty tricks, which isn’t an official title, just an accurate description. The thing is there’s this branch of the civil service that practically no-one knows about. They’re called the Department for Internal Concerns or DIC for short. They aren’t military. In fact they aren’t beholden to anyone but the British tax payers, who have no idea that they exist. The thing is that they’re armed and have the right to kill, under certain circumstances, to which end they have diplomatic immunity in the UK.” Stanton’s face was intense with listening and Spencer continued. “They have people in every town and city in the UK. These people monitor all digital and analogue traffic, they have the equipment to do it too, and they have access to CCTV. This is fed into a centre, somewhere in London, but no-one knows where the centre is.”
“How have they kept so secret?”
“Well for one they don’t advertise their presence in any way whatsoever and two though MI6 know they exist, they don’t know who the members of this huge network are so it’s hard to prove they exist. If you suggested there was such a network people would laugh. Big brother scares and all that. Top civil servants, the old ones are aware as is the queen. They’re funded from MOD money. They have spies literally everywhere. They watch everything and everyone.”
“Can they watch any CCTV?”
“Seemingly so, hence our drop off in Scotland.”
“So we could have been spotted already?”
“Yes, but odds are we haven’t or the police would have arrested us. Anyway our arrival point was too remote, which I think was the idea.”
“Right, who do you think is behind this hit?”
“I don’t know, but you must have sussed that it’s either military or government, the sub tells you that.” Spencer suspected his old boss Sternway, but didn’t say.
Stanton nodded and said “We’ll find out when we are told who the mark is. It’s got to be big for a million.”
“Listen thanks for the help and the meal. I appreciate it.”
“That’s alright. I’ve learnt something.” He got out his card. “Is yours not working?”
“No it’s bloody annoying.”
“I’m sure.”
“We’ll split up when we get to London, but if we get to the rendezvous point together or close we could collaborate, two heads and all that.”
Stanton was cautious “I’ll think about it. We might make a good team. I’ll see if we get to the rendezvous together.”
Stanton watched Spencer head for his sleeper. He stared at the door a long time and then mind made up to get off at Perth he went to his sleeper and began packing. If Spencer was telling the truth about these DIC they were probably already compromised. In his sleeper he ditched the passports and all the paraphernalia of an assassin, keeping his weapon, ammunition and a small plastic box with a hypodermic syringe and a variety of drug ampoules though. He picked an ID from the pack which had a change of face and look and with his complete change of face paraphernalia from his rucksack he went to the toilet and locked himself in. It was ten fifty p.m.