William Poulson had told Margaret that he would be working on a sensitive classified report and that he was not to be disturbed if at all possible. She was very good as an insulator and buffer, which was exactly what he wanted. Not, as it happened, to give him the peace and quiet he needed to compile a report of any kind, but because he needed to make a phone call.
It was a call that he wouldn’t be making through the landlines that connected Porton Down to the rest of the world, nor even on either his official or his private mobile, because this was a call that must never be traced to him. Instead, at the bottom of his briefcase he had a cheap Nokia with a pre-paid SIM card installed – a ‘burner’ in the language of the trade – that was completely anonymous and that he would be destroying as soon as the entire distasteful business had been concluded.
He turned the key in his office door to provide a final level of privacy, then opened his briefcase, took out the Nokia and dialled a mobile number that he had memorised. His call was answered almost immediately.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me,’ Poulson said. ‘Is it done?’
‘Not quite.’
‘What the fuck does that mean?’
‘It means what I said: not quite. There’s still one out there I can’t find.’
‘Who?’
‘Former sergeant Jonny Johnson. He isn’t dead, because I’ve checked, but he’s dropped right off the radar. I had his previous address, but it looks to me as if somebody altered his contact details because I have no idea where he is. And there’s something else you need to know.’
‘What?’ Poulson’s voice betrayed the stress he was feeling.
‘He was the one injured in combat, so he didn’t suffer the secondary effects. That means he won’t die of natural causes, or from what happened during the trial.’
‘Then you’ve got to find him. Use whatever methods you have to, but find him. Find him and finish this, or I’ll finish you.’
Poulson pressed the power button on the Nokia and tossed it back into his briefcase.
For several minutes after he’d ended the call he just sat at his desk, his head in his hands, contemplating the very real possibility of his entire career, everything he’d worked so hard for over so many years, unravelling.
And all because of something that should never have happened.