“No.” Heston sat very straight and his tiny eyes examined each of them in turn. “No, it’s not impossible – few things are, when you put your mind to them. And we have several advantages. First off, we have a person on the inside, which gives us a massive edge. And that person is a computer expert – a genius in fact. Or so I’m told.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said de Clerk.
“Come on man, don’t be bashful,” snapped Heston. “Going ahead with this operation is the biggest call of my career. Believe you me, stealing documents from MI6 is not a day-to-day occurrence on Fleet Street. Whether or not you are a genius is a pertinent question. What’s your IQ, for a start?”
“It’s 161,” said Jenny.
De Clerk coloured and sipped his coffee.
“Right, higher than Einstein’s IQ,” said Heston. “So you are a genius. And it pains me to admit this, but Jake here’s probably not that far off either.”
“I’d say Jenny’s brighter than me,” Jake hastened.
“This is my point,” said Heston. “We’ve got four highly intelligent people in this room. And Edwin knows the system inside out, he’s got his fingers on the buttons. There must be a way to get this codeword.”
Jake had never seen him like this: he realised what the story meant to his boss too.
And Heston didn’t know the half of it.
The room swayed as the enormity of what they were doing hit home. The risks, the rewards, the philosophical ramifications. For the knowledge was always with Jake: the outcome of this operation was already foretold, and by some nebulous cognizance that was watching them even now. Nesta’s electromagnetic network; Eusebius’s All-Seeing Eye.
“So all of you, think!” said Heston, wrenching Jake back into the room. “We can work out how to do this!”
They sat with heads bowed, as if in prayer. Heston bought more coffee; ideas were discussed and discarded. Then Jake cleared his throat, a curious twist to his mouth.
“Only two people in the world know this codename, correct?”
“Correct,” said Jenny. “Not even the PM is briefed on this. Not even The Queen.”
“Then there’s only one thing we can do.”
Suddenly Jenny saw it too. “He’s right,” she said. “Thinking about it laterally there is only one way.”
Heston leaned in. “Which is?”
“We will need to get them to discuss it.”
*
“Good thought that man,” shouted Heston, clapping his hands. “And once they’re discussing it we record them – a classic tabloid sting. Why didn’t I think of that? Easy! I used to be chief investigative reporter on the Sun.”
“Easy?” De Clerk looked pained. “Easier said than done, my friend, even if we were somehow able to socially engineer a conversation between two of MI6’s smoothest operators.”
“You could hack their email accounts?” suggested Jake. “Impersonate Charlie, try to wheedle it out of Evelyn?”
“Oh don’t be soft,” said Heston. “This is MI6 for fuck’s sake.”
“Actually, I’m pretty confident I could hack the accounts,” said de Clerk.
“How?” Heston was incredulous. “MI6 must have the most formidable firewalls on the planet.”
“I helped design them,” he replied. “But unfortunately that’s no use to us.”
“Why not?” asked Jake.
“Because neither of them would ever mention the codeword by email.”
“They’d only say it verbally,” said Jenny. “And inside an SSR.”
“Just for today might we try and steer away from the jargon?” said Heston. “For the sake of those of us who aren’t professional spies?”
“Ok, ok,” said Jenny. “They would only discuss it in a secure speech room.”
He winced. “Secure speech room? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You book them to discuss something top secret,” explained de Clerk. “They’re deep underground – thick walls, completely soundproofed. And each room is equipped with a Nace machine.”
“What’s a Nace machine?” asked Jake, a child again.
“It detects electronic circuits,” replied Jenny. “You bring your mobile in and it beeps. Bring your car keys in and it beeps. Bring a bloody torch in and it beeps – you can’t secrete any kind of recording device in the vicinity.”
“Is this ‘Nace’ a physical object?” asked Heston.
De Clerk nodded. “Yeah, it’s a sort of black column and at the bottom is a strip with LED lights which blink to show it’s functioning. Even the frequency these things work on is top secret. They’re made by Q Branch – you know, James Bond and all that?” He looked bashful. “Q Branch actually exists.”
Heston produced an irritable noise. “Jesus.”
“Look, secrets are MI6’s game,” said de Clerk. “If secrets were easy to lose, what would be the point in the organization?”
“There’s one other thing on our side though,” said Jenny.
“What’s that?” said Heston.
“It’s that people are fallible,” she replied. “Even Charlie. That’s the basis of espionage, it’s why we bother. People lose concentration, people have affairs. They have drug habits, they like to show off. Every MI6 officer thinks they’ve got the coolest job in the world – there are some monster egos in Vauxhall Cross, believe me. But they can’t boast about their work to anyone except each other. That’s why there are so many bars in the building. So staff can let off steam and talk about the day-to-day stuff.”
Jenny recalled Waits’s face in Istanbul when she’d drawn attention to his obesity.
For a start he was very overweight …
“If Charlie’s got an Achilles heel it’s his pride,” she finished. “Get them communicating and he’ll boast to her. I’m certain of it.”
The challenge was formidable, but they had righteousness on their side. They were energized now, convinced it could be done. And by the end of the day they had their plan.