Strangely enough, it all started on a perfectly normal night. Christof, Dorian, Paul, Jon and Will were spending an evening at the Old Red Crow their favourite pub. The good thing about the pub was not its location (between Barbican and Farringdon, London) or the clientele (mostly after-work bankers from the city) but the simple fact that the bartender also happened to be their good friend Michael who often would forget to charge them for their Guinness.
Michael had started this bartender job as a way to keep himself too busy to think about the divorce he had just managed to survive. But this particular night his marital problems were overshadowed by Will's barely day old bad news. After a badly timed fit of rage and a well placed fist in the face of his ex-wife's new boyfriend, he had been suspended from his job at the hospital and was now trying to drink away the mortgage and maintenance payments and all other problems that were soon to be gathering.
After a brave troupe of Guinness had met their fate at the hands of the gang of friends and chased down with some tequila, it was time to face the way home. They all left Michael to clean up the bar and made their way through the October night. They didn't even get twenty meters before they heard the scream that would change their lives forever.
The alley was a dimly lit cobbled corridor, cutting through from the Old Red Crow to the small square behind. Halfway down and partly shielded from the road by wheelie-bins a neatly dressed man stands over the collapsed body of well dressed man. The group approaches led by Christof - just another banker who can't hold his drink....at about the same time that Will spots the blood pooling out over the cobbles Christof spots the knife. The neatly dressed man seems in a state of shock he backs-off the knife slipping from his limp fingers. Rocking on his heels he sits on the curb stone. Jon and Paul approach cautiously while Will calls an ambulance and approaches the body. "he, he did this to himself.." is the only explanation offered by the neatly dressed man. Paul calls for the police. "He's dead" Will states after examining the body "Some fucking doctor you are I can see that from here" Jon heads towards the end of the alley to look for the ambulance.
Minutes drag by and eventually the ambulance arrives closely pursued by a police car. The ambulance crew, quickly realising there is nothing they can do for the dead man for obvious reasons, turns their attention to the neatly dressed man. They help him into the ambulance and close the door. Christof suffering from not having any visual memory takes some pictures of the dead man and the ambulance while one of the police officers takes some of the group to one side. Officer Morgan introduces himself to the group and asks them to go through what they have seen. Jon begins to fill Officer Morgan in on the evenings events "The doctor here examined the body" "Did you indeed?" "The victim has a six to seven inch laceration which runs below the ribcage on the left side. The knife appears to have punctured his diaphragm entered the intercostal space, puncturing his pericardium" "In English son" "He's been stabbed in the heart" "And our friend in the ambulance says he did this himself? Hm.." Officer Morgan approaches the ambulance and opens the rear door. Both paramedics lie sprawled on the floor and there is no sign of the neatly dressed man. Top ↑
The following day the group met up once again at the Old Red Crow to talk about what they had seen, but not before they all re-visited the alley. Expecting to find the area still corded off, they were suprised to find the alley fully accessible. Even stranger still was that there was no sign at all that a man had died horribly there less than 24 hours ago. As the group returned to the Old Red Crow they all got an un-easy feeling that something was amiss. No mentioning of an escaped murderer, no questioning by the police, a cleaned up murder scene...
Michael called the local police and asked if there had been any reports of a murder the other night in the Barbican area. Nothing. Stranger still was that the police had no records of an Officer Morgan either! At the same time, Will was calling up friends in at St Barts, a large hospital that also houses a mourge near the murder scene. Whoever he asked he was always presented with the same answer: No bodies had been taken in the other night.
At this point even the most sceptical of the group had come to believe that someone had gone to great extent to cover up the murder. This only served to double the groups investigation. They called up St Bart's and asked for the two ambulance drivers that had been knocked uncontious by the neatly dressed man. The ambulance drivers were the first outsiders to acknowledge what had happened. They told of how they had been uncontious when turning their back on the man. They also said that they had indeed taken the body to St Barts and signed it in as per routine.
Spurred on by the conversation with the ambulance drivers, Christof and Will used Will's doctor credential to enter St Barts and then continue to break several laws by entering the mourge to find the ledger. The ledger didn't have any record of any body being brought in that night. Refusing to let it go, they even entered the cooling room and tried to find the body by searching through the dead, but with no success.
After seemingly be hitting invisible walls at every turn, the group decided to continue the investigation in the new light of the next day. They all had plans for the evening to distract them with as it was Hallows Eve, and it would prove to be unusually eerie. Top ↑
All members of the group headed to one party while Christof went to another party located at a gay bar in Soho, The Yard. As always on Hallows Eve, Christof wore his black suit and white gloves/mask costume. Although the costume is properly scary, it has hard to pull anyone while wearing a mask which is why it surprised Christof when he found himself being checked out by an attractive man at the opposite end of the bar. Wearing no costume, the man naturally stood out amongst the ghouls and goblins. Christof and the man spent the evening talking about the pointless things required to keep the mouths busy whilst the eyes makes sure the catch of tonight is up to scratch and is not going to sprout a third nipple when least expected. But tonight, Christof was all luck, the man was perfect. And so Christof put up no fight when the man suggested they would go back to Christof's place.
The following morning Christof woke up to an empty bed. The man had left while he had been sleeping. After making sure that the computer (the only thing worth anything in Christof's small student hall of residence room) was still humming in the corner, he then looked around for a note. He wished hard that there would be a note, a note where the mystery man of yesterday would leave a number along with a non-desperate but still passionate note saying how he very much wanted to see him again. There was a note. Next to the humming computer stood a clear white envelope with 'Christof Andersson' written in perfect handwriting. On opening the envelope and reading the beautifully handwritten note his excitement quickly turned to the blackest dread: "Stop looking. You and your friends do not want to know." The phone rang, startling Christof out of staring at the note that had turned his home from a safe and cosy place to hide away to a breached unsafe place where murderers disguised as lovers. It was ???? on the phone, and the panic in his voice gave away what he was about to say. "I've got a note, a handwritten note delivered right into my fucking apartment, behind locked doors, warning myself from looking into this god-damned murder!"
Within a few minutes, the jungle drums had delivered the message to every member of the group: They had all had letters delivered by someone who had complete access to their homes, warning them from doing any further investigation.
They met up in a small cafe near Marble Arch to talk about the letters. They were all nervously looking around the coffee shop, silently wondering if the waitress might be watching them or was the perhaps the job of the two teenage girls sitting at the next table comparing ringtones? Or were they watched through the window? Or a hidden camera somewhere? The only thing on the menu at this cafe today was paranoia.
The discussion quickly split the group into two camps: The ones who wanted to stop looking and those who wanted to keep on looking. Christof and Michael argued that they had a moral obligation to keep investigating this murder. Most likely the man had relatives and loved ones who needed to know what had happened. There was also the nagging fact that Justice had not been served here. For Christof, on a subconscious level, there was also the exciting feeling of adventure to spur him along. The other side of the argument argued that they were simply not willing to put their necks on the line for any of those reasons. After discussing it to and from, Christof and Michael agreed that unless the group unanimously voted to keep investigating, it was not their right to endanger the others.
With that decision made, Paul then suggested they would go one step further and leave London for a while as if to signal to the 'bad guys' that they had heard and heeded the warning. Paul had family up in Ireland that would be willing to house them for as long as they needed. And so it was that the group took the best first flight up to Ireland. Top ↑
After a couple of days the group had assembled in the city of ?????. They were sitting in one of those Irish pubs when they caught a missing persons plead on the TV. A woman was explaining through her sobs how her husband had left for work just like any other day but then never come back, something she knew for certain he would never do as he had been a reliable and trustworthy husband. The number of the missing person helpline flashed across the screen and soon the TV showed tomorrows weather.
It was as if the resolve in the group to stay hidden crumbled away. It had been easy to dismiss the mourning loved ones argument when those loved ones were faceless ghosts of possibility; it was quite another when it had a tear-stricken face pleading for help. And they were far away from London, possibly out of reach of the bad guys (although no one really believed that, not after the appearing letters trick). Christof then reiterated an idea he had put forward to the group back in the coffee shop in Marble Arch. "The bad guys want to shut us up because we know what happened on the night of the murder. While we are carrying that information we are a threat to them since we might speak. But what if we do speak? What if we speak to every single newspaper in the country, and every single police department we can find? Most likely, they will not believe us for a second. But what position will the bad guys be in then? There would be no reason to kill us anymore since we have already said everything we know. But more than that, if they kill us out of revenge, they would just lend credibility to our story, possibly leading the media to believe us, something they can't risk! So in a way, hopefully, it will then be in the bad guys own interest not to harm us! Assuming they act rationally that is."
The group decided to do exactly that. They wrote a mass e-mail to as many newspapers, TV stations and police departments they could think of, outlining all of the last few days events. They also attached the picture of the murdered man that Christof had taken. When that was all done, they went to ????? to seek protection from the Irish police.
At the police station Thomas, an Irish policeman in his mid-thirties, was taken a bit by surprise to find six guys from London turn up unannounced on his doorstep seeking refuge. He had just been told the briefest of reason and still didn't know exactly what it was all about, but the Londoners definitely looked scared, so he took it to be a serious pleads for help. Thomas led the group into a room and sat down to hear their story. If it had not been for the dark rings around their eyes and nervous way of handling themselves, he'd never have believed such a story. Not knowing by heart what the Irish law required him to do in such a situation, he left the room to consult with a colleague. When he returned he had two other policemen with him, and his before kind and understanding face had been replaced by one of bitter resolve. "I just got of the phone with Scotland Yard. What you guys failed to tell me in your story is that you are all wanted for murder back in London. Maybe you didn't know, but we can and will deport you back there if you are wanted by Scotland Yard. So I am hereby arresting you on suspicion of murder."
The two policemen advanced toward the group with handcuffs. Christof, Michael, Dorian and Paul all raised their hands in the universal 'I-Give-Up' kind of way. Jon and Will did not. They charged at the two policemen, taking them by surprise, knocking them of their feet. Jon and Will then bolted for the door, closely pursued by Thomas. Thomas had most likely been able to grab Will had Christof not tripped him. Jon and Will ran out the door, down the corridor, towards the reception, closely followed by the two policemen with handcuffs, both shouting "STOP THEM!". Jon and Will didn't listen. They could see the door leading out of the police station on the other side of the reception area. There were several rows of desks between them and a life as refugees, and the receptionists sitting at their computers were just starting to make sense of the words "STOP THEM". Will ran around the desks towards the door while Jon took the more direct route, jumping from desk to desk. One receptionist, half dazed and confused by the sudden commotion reached out a hand and grabbed Jon's ankle as he sprinted of her desk. Jon lost his balance and fell to the ground, but in an amazing feat of athletics, he curled himself into a ball, rolled under the next desk, got up and continued his sprint for freedom. He would have made it had it not been for the last receptionist down the line, Greta. A hardened old lady she was, equipped with an umbrella with which she tripped Jon who fell towards the very door that would have been his salvation. "So close but so far." thought Jon as a policeman pounced on him, cuffed him and read out his rights. Jon turned his head and saw Will meeting the same fate further down the reception.
The group were led into a small holding cell where they were kept over night. They were allowed to make phone calls to their respective lawyers. The following morning they were led into a small van and thus began the journey back to London, towards Scotland Yard. No one in the group spoke. They didn't need to. They knew there was only one thought in the back of the van: "We are at the mercy of the bad guys." Top ↑
The group was not extradited to Scotland Yard to face a court of law. Instead they were taken to the MI6 building, home of James Bond. The van that carried the group entered the underground parking area of this top-secret building where they were released, uncuffed and asked to proceed through a door at the opposite end of the parking lot. Somehow, the greeting was almost pleasant. The uncuffing, the freedom to walk on your own two legs, the lack of guns; it all fit badly with the torturous welcome the group had anticipated.
At the door the group was welcomed by a young man. "Hello, and welcome to the MI6. My name is Mike. I hope the flight here was ok. I want to apologize for the cuffs and the fright you must have had getting arrested in Ireland, but I hope that once we have had the opportunity to explain, you will agree that it was necessary." Mike led them to a sparsely but neatly decorated white room with some presentation equipment, a table and some chairs. "Please take a seat and someone will join you presently."
The group all sat down and soon three men came in; a smartly dressed man in his forties who introduced himself as Frederick and his two secretaries or helpers. "Gentlemen" Frederick started. "I want to personally apologize for the uncomfortable last weeks you guys have had. I am going to explain your situation quickly now as we want to get you back to Scotland Yard as quickly as possible. But rest assured that the lawyers you've hired will not be needed. The charges against you are false and soon the court will soon drop them on our request. We issued the arrest warrant as a way to get you all back here so we could explain."
"The man you saw dead did indeed kill himself. He was a member of a terrorist cell that we have been tracing for some time. Actually, he was an informant. The man you saw flee the scene is one of our agents who was pumping the informant on information. We are not sure why the informant killed himself. He must have felt cornered as we pressured him hard to reveal who the head of the terrorist cell is. In any case, we needed to hide the fact that he died in order to keep the news of his death to reach the terrorist cell. Hopefully they don't know how close we are to breaking their cell. That was why we tried to scare you to stop meddling. Your private investigation was endangering the whole mission. But you didn't stop looking as we told you. Instead you chose to higher moral route and put yourself at risk to do the right thing."
"We do not have a habit of punishing the citizens of this country who do the right thing in the face of danger. So if scaring you into silence will not work, we wanted to try reasoning with you. But, the MI6 is willing to go one step further. One of the biggest challenges for this organization is not to find skilled people, but to find people who show a strong moral fibre. That is what we need from our agents. And we believe that you have shown that in the last few days. And you have also shown tremendous resourcefulness in your investigation. All of this is why we are willing to offer you the opportunity to work for us as sleeping agents. You would lead your lives as per normal, until the day when we have need of you. At that point we would call upon you for your assistant."
Frederick gave the group the chance to ask questions and think about the offer. But the group did not need a lot of time to come to a unanimous decision to accept the offer. "Great!" Frederick exclaimed. "I am delighted to hear that. Obviously you will all be required to not speak to anyone about this. And I am sorry to say that we would like to drop you all in the deep end. As you have already made some headway in your investigation regarding Mr Informant, we would like you to continue down that line. We would like to know when he entered the country and where he came from. He had consequently refused to give us that information, and we believe it may be important. Now, we need to get you all back to Scotland Yard before they start missing you. And once again, welcome to the MI6."
"Find where he came from, and when he entered the country. Damn easier said than done. As if the might MI6 couldn't figure this one out easily enough. And if they couldn't did they really think that six civilians could do any better?" That was the general thoughts of the group as they once again gathered at a pub, this time the ????, a but not too far away from the ?????. This pub looked like most English pubs in London, but behind the facade lay one of several MI6 freeholds where MI6 employees could hide away, find secure lines or meeting places etc. It was now free to be used by the group as a sort of base of operations. The group had also been given a phone number leading to a voicemail where they could leave messages, requests or questions to the MI6. Maybe not as exciting as a submarine car or a watch that shoots laser beams, but somehow impressive in it's everyday usefulness, and of course the fact that they were real MI6 gadgets.
But, gadgets or no gadgets, the task at hand proved to be a hard one to get a handle on. One avenue of investigation pursued was that of trying to track down the woman who had pleaded for help in finding her missing husband on the TV. The whole thing stank of a terrorist trap, and when the MI6 discouraged the group from using themselves as bate, the group tried something else. Guessing that the woman was a hired actress of sorts, the group started going through female actresses of her age in all the on-line actor/actresses agencies like Spotlight. After looking over many actresses, they finally found her, Clarissa Nyles. Christof and Will met with Clarissa pretending to be a script writer and director of a new play, looking to cast the lead role. Asking about her previous experiences they found out that she ahd been hired to shoot a short sequence for an interactive game. She had no idea about the real usage for that shoot, and although she did have some contact information of the people hiring her, chances were good those details would prove to be dead ends. Not that the group ever had the chance to investigate it as soon afterwards, the next avenue of investigation proved much more fruitful.
Mr ?????? had lived at a place in north London before he killed himself. Throwing subtleties to the wind, ????? went to break into the flat and snoop around. Tearing the place upside down, they found little of interest. Some bills dated back to a year previous, giving some idea of the time Mr ???? arrived in the country, but nothing more specific like credit cards could be found. But just as hope had all but run dry, ????? made an important discovery. Attached to a light bulb sat a small radio transmitter, hooked into the main power cable leading to the bulb. ????? cut the transmitter loose and they all left to investigate it further. They guessed the purpose of it was to send out a beacon signal as soon as the lights were turned on, warning whoever was listening that someone had entered the room. While going through the flat, the group had never once turned the lights on, hence whoever was listening would not know of them being there. Furthermore, the transmitter looked quite amateurishly built, so chances were great of it not being MI6 property. That left the terrorists as the most likely group who would receive the signal if the transmitter was activated. In a brave but highly dangerous move, ?????? decided to return to the flat and activate the transmitter.
The plan was to wait for someone to come to the flat and investigate the signal. Assuming that would be one of the 'bad guys', they would then ambush him and drag him off to the MI6 for interrogation. Flawless. Well, it would have been had the terrorists not shown up much faster than anticipated; and showing up as a pair; And with semi-automatic weapons. Through some quick thinking and more than a little blind luck, they managed to overpower the two men. They then rolled them up in two carpets and heaved them into the back of a van and then quickly drove them to the ??????. Top ↑
As the van veers into the appointed garage it was met by a large group of MI6 agents who brought out the two captives and took them away to a safer place for interrogation. One agent met up with the group and took them away to a small meeting room. "Well, I must say, you have all impressed me tonight." the agent said. Before anyone had time to put on a proud self-satisfied smile he continued "When before we dealt with a terrorist cell afraid because it had lost one member we are now dealing with a terrorist cell that has lost three members. All their defences will be raised now and any timetables for their attack that they may have had will most likely be rushed forward now. If we get no useful information from the two men you apprehended tonight you may very well have single-handedly ruined this operation."
After suffering some further telling-of the group was finally allowed to leave. They had not been 'fired' from the MI6. They were still on the MI6's list of people who could be called upon when needed. Not that anyone really thought they would anytime soon, not after what had happened earlier that day. As they stood outside ???? (the pub with the MI6 center back door) they looked at each other as if to say "Now what?". "Pint at the Old Crow?" was the obvious answer.