Stan Mason - Stopping World War Three

‘Both night an day,’ he revealed. ‘We call the television staff on the monitors ‘the television crew’.’

‘Where are they located?’

‘They’re the boys in Block ‘B’. Worth their weight in gold! I couldn’t sit watching a whole host of screens for hours on end. It would drive me crackers!’

My eyes drifted from the equipment as I began to stare at the workers in the room. They seemed to be the normal type of scientists undertaking research in an establishment of this kind, dressed in white coats, but there was one man in particular who caught my attention. I moved to a different position in the room to examine his face more carefully trying not to arouse suspicion. Then I became positive in the identification. It was Tomar Duran… the man who had approached the wreckage of the aircraft in Crete and had threatened to shoot me. The man with whom I tussled on the ground before Penny shot him. I moved towards him scanning his face much more closely. Yes… there was a cut above his left eye which probably happened when we fought. But Penny had shot him with his own gun! ‘What’s the name of this man?’ I asked Packman directly. ‘The one with number five printed on the back of his white coat.’

Packman picked up a clipboard on a table and glanced at it. ‘Number Five. That’s Tomar Duran.’

I inhaled deeply trying to absorb the situation into my mind. ‘Has he been absent lately… taken some leave?’

The Director tapped into one of the computers terminals and waited for a response. ‘Yes… he took three days’ leave. Why do you ask?’

‘I presume he’s been cleared by your security people?’

‘Of course. We take the most stringent measures to ensure that everyone here is whiter than white.’

‘I’d like to see his curriculum vitae.’

‘Impossible!’ returned Packman adamantly. ‘Personnel Division never releases the records of staff unless promotion is in hand. Duran’s been with this division for two years.’

‘I’d like to ask him a few questions if you don’t mind.’

The Director shrugged his shoulders. ‘it’s not up to me. It depends on him whether he wants to answer your questions.’

We walked over to Number Five and he turned to face us. It was definitely Tomar Duran. ‘You took three days’ leave recently,’ I began, staring directly into his eyes. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Of course,’ he replied in a perfect English accent keeping his voice on an even keel. ‘I went to Crete. It was a family funeral.’

I could only assume that he was making fun of me in this dilemma. ‘Did anything unusual happen while you were there?’

He lifted his hands with the palms upwards in a token of innocence. ‘They buried my uncle and I came home.’

‘Where did you stay in Crete?’

‘In Heraklion. My family owns a restaurant there. He Acropolis Restaurant.’

He was definitely taking the mickie out of me and I disliked it intensely. ‘Do you know a Commander Spring?’

‘Commander Spring,’ he returned, pursing his lips as though thinking very hard. ‘No… I don’t know anyone of that name.’

The conversation ended there and Packman and I walked back towards the door. It opened automatically from the inside and we left the building by the main exit to where the Brigadier was waiting.

‘What was that all about?’ asked the Director with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘I used to know someone who looked like him but he was killed recently.’

‘Well Duran is very much alive,’ he laughed, ‘at least I hope he hasn’t come back from the dead to haunt us. We’ve no way of dealing with ghosts in security. If so, he could walk through walls and we wouldn’t be able to pick him up on the screens.’ He glanced at his wristwatch and shook his head. ‘I’d have liked to show you more but time’s against us. I’m due for the monthly meeting later with the Minister of Defence. They’re no fun, I assure you. Everyone thinks this job’s a dream. Don’t you believe it! I have to fight budget cuts in financial aid and grants, political ambitions, and a host of irrational decisions. Look after him, Brigadier. See Mr. Scott off the premises!’ He moved towards a large black saloon and was driven off smartly, leaving me in the charge of the security officer.

‘He’s a good man,# commented the Brigadier. ‘His term off office expires soon so he’s in the danger period.’

‘The danger period? What’s that?’

‘Three of the last four Directors of this division experienced the same problem. Someone tried to break in to steal something during the last thirty days of their reign. But technology is so advanced these days it’s unlikely any intruder could get past the main gate.’

‘Why, Brigadier,’ I smiled. ‘You sound as though you’re looking for a challenge.’

‘Naturally,’ he admitted calmly. ‘Technology advances at sucha rate of knots these days no one really knows whether anything works as effectively as they hope. It took the Falkland War to prove that Exocet missiles were exceptional weapons at sea while the Gulf War allowed us to test devices to scuttle SCUD missiles and also to gain more experience in laser targeting. By that means, an aircraft could identify a target and send down a laser beam so that its bombs would definitely hone in on the exact target. Without challenges, we wouldn’t be able to successfully test new weaponry. The same relates to security. I wouldn’t mind the system being tested by the fine mind of a highly-professional burglar. We need such challenges.’

‘Do you know anything about Tomar Duran?’ I asked as we walked towards the jeep.

‘Number Five!’ he returned coolly. ‘Not allowed to discuss matters concerning staff. How do you know about him?’

We climbed into the vehicle and I decided to come clean. ‘I know him because I found him dead recently. Shot with a pistol through the head.’

His hands froze over the steering wheel and he turned to face me. ‘What do you mean… you found him dead?’

‘We got into a fight in Crete and someone shot him. When I last saw him he was dead.’

‘How long ago was this?’

‘A few days ago. If he was the same man he should have a lump on his head the size of an ostrich egg apart from the bullet wound.’

In an instant, he lifted the telephone receiver in the jeep and pressed a button on the instrument before speaking into the microphone. ‘Security! This is the Brigadier! I want a double check on Tomar Duran for security reasons. Ignore the current file. See what you can find out about him! Report back to me as soon as you find out anything. And check him physically before he leaves the division today. I want t o know every bump, bruise, scratch or birthmark on his body!’ He replaced the receiver with a determined expression and turned to me again. ‘You can never be too careful in security. Don’t worry… we’ll soon find out the truth.’

‘What happens when you find that someone’s cracked your security system?’ I asked tentatively. ‘I mean to break into the complex.’

He started the engine and drove off. ‘No one’s ever succeeded, thank Heavens. If we catch them, we deal with intruders in our own way… it’s what they deserve. We can’t afford publicity or someone shooting their mouth off to other criminals with intent… not with the Ministry of Defence putting up all that money for research and development.’

‘So how do you deal with them?’

‘Anyone caught breaking in will find out to their cost. Do you realise what would happen if any of our plans found their way into the hands of a third party? They’d be hawked around the world to the highest bidders for profit and then everyone would have them. Some wars would break out in insignificant countries while some mad ambitious bastard would set the world in his sights and go for it.’