Local time – 5.35pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
London, England.
Throughout Gerome’s career, he often wondered whether he would ever be hauled off to Thames House to be interrogated by MI5. It was only natural, after so many years getting close to state secrets, that he might uncover something that landed him in GCHQ’s sights. Especially with staff like Bernie who skirted as close as it was possible to skirt to the Official Secrets Act. Gerome now understood how Bernie managed to get so close – his sources were probably old colleagues. But now that Gerome had been assaulted in his own home, handcuffed and blindfolded, and found himself sitting in the back of what was probably a large van, he only wondered why it was Mossad who wanted to speak to him, and not MI5. He had absolutely no doubt why he was there; it was, as the agent had said, connected to his journalist Alex North. However, what information they thought he had that would be useful, he had no idea.
The Mossad agent in the back of the van with him wasn’t taking any notice of his demands to remove the handcuffs and blindfold. Eventually the van stopped and Gerome heard the back door open, then close again. From the shift in weight in the van, the driver had obviously climbed into the back.
‘What do you people want?’ Gerome asked again, his voice quavering slightly. This time he got a response.
‘We need to know what Alex North is doing.’
‘I won’t talk to you unless you take these handcuffs off and the blindfold. I know my rights.’ He struggled to keep his voice steady. ‘And don’t even think about using force. I run a respected newspaper. Nothing’s going to stop me, or my staff if I am incapacitated, reporting this crime to the world... ’
Gerome was about to continue his argument in the direction of abuse of human rights when he realised the men were reaching behind his back and doing as he asked. When the blindfold was removed, he found he could just make out the features of the two men in the dimly lit van. The vehicle was set up as a surveillance office, with four computer screens, microphones and a small office chair. The man crouching in front of Gerome was the Taser attacker, and behind him stooped another dark haired man who looked similarly pissed off and in no mood for insolence. Gerome decided to be frank.
‘Look, to be honest, I’m really not scared of you. I would give you access to Alex North if I knew how, because I would like to speak to her too! That video she was on, it looked like complete fantasy to me. But Alex isn’t the sort to get caught up in things like that. It’s hard to convince her of anything without real facts. That’s what makes her so good at her job. There’s got to be some reason she’s involved in this, and I’m more than happy to help you work that out. As long as it doesn’t endanger her. Or me for that matter...’ Gerome stopped talking when he realised the men were both still glaring at him. One of them nodded to the other, and for a second Gerome thought he was giving his colleague permission to start the violence. But it turned out he was just giving him permission to speak.
‘You really have no idea what North is doing? Let me tell you something. She is this close to causing a major international catastrophe. She has stolen a nuclear weapon from the Pakistani Inter-Services Intelligence Agency, and she’s absconded with this weapon, which means that it is very likely either to be used in an aggressive manner, or sold to people who plan to so do. Do you find this funny Mr Laurent?’ By the time the man finished speaking Gerome wasn’t surprised by his question; his incredulity had overcome his fright, and he was doing a terrible job of hiding his amused bemusement.
‘Are you guys serious? Alex has stolen a nuclear weapon? That is complete and utter bullshit. You may as well have just told me a pig was seen hovering over Westminster Abbey, because that’s as likely as what you’ve just said.’
‘We can see it isn’t something you would expect her to do, but nevertheless she seems to have surprised all of us. Can you tell us why she would be doing this?’
‘No, because she hasn’t done this. It’s comedy to even suggest such a thing! I don’t know what you’re planning to achieve by feeding me this bullshit. You’re no doubt trying to pressure me into telling you something that will make it easier to find Alex, but since I don’t have any idea where she is, this is really a waste of your time. I can tell you one thing though, the real waste of your time is if you believe any of the bullshit you just told me. Because if you do, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’
‘Have you seen the video North and her associates released yesterday?’ This time it was the other agent who spoke, the first seemingly too infuriated to respond.
‘Yes, and I admit, it did perplex me slightly. But I’m willing to give Alex the benefit of the doubt and assume she had some greater purpose in announcing such a half baked conspiracy theory. My biggest concern is that she might have stumbled on something that is even close to being true. Because if that’s the case, I worry deeply for her safety. And now that I find you lot are after her, it does make me wonder even more if there is some truth to what she’s been trying to promote.’
‘Your other staff member, Bernie. You know that he was murdered on Friday night?’
‘I know he passed away. I know there were traces of a chemical in his blood, which is currently being investigated by the coroner. However, I have absolutely no idea who would have wanted to hurt Bernie, nor do I have any idea what this has to do with Alex.’
‘And you know the US President has been shot? You’ve seen the protests in Washington?’
‘I don’t exactly live under a rock, do I? I am a journalist after all...’
‘We don’t feel you’re taking our questions seriously enough Mr Laurent. It’s time you stopped wasting our time.’ When the agent put his hand up under his shirt, Gerome regretted his patronising tone. He was either reaching for his Taser, or worse, his gun. Gerome knew which he would prefer. Both were problematic, but one meant pain, and the other meant never seeing the outside of this van again.