Vauxhall Cross, London
ANGELA SCOTT FELT she was swimming against the tide. It was just past 5.30 p.m. and everyone was streaming out of central London while she was going in the opposite direction, heading up to Vauxhall by train. But it wasn’t the reverse commuting that was making her feel like an anomaly, an outsider among all these homebound professionals. Right now, she didn’t even know if she still had a job. But she was following orders, just as she had always done, and the order had been hand-delivered to her door. It was waiting for her on the mat when she let herself back into her flat, following her visit to her old tutor.
Be at VX Reception at 1815, it read. Discuss this with no one. Security will meet you there. And that was it. No ‘hope you’re holding up’, no ‘realize this must be a difficult time for you’. Just a sign-off from Felix Schauer, MI6’s Director Critical. Well, at least she would know where she was with Felix. If she was about to be fired he’d give it to her straight, no dressing things up in management gobbledygook. And Angela had been doing a lot of thinking. She had a plan. She was not going to take all this lying down. She was damn well going to fight her corner, even take them to a tribunal if need be. But whatever happened, Angela Scott was not going to let some unintentional digital error torpedo the career for which she had worked all her adult life. No, she was going to fight this one all the way. But first she would have to tell them what had just happened.
They were waiting for her just inside the lobby of that great sandstone and green building at the southern end of Vauxhall Bridge. Angela Scott said nothing as the men from Security Section escorted her to one of the windowless, featureless rooms on the ground floor. Nothing on the table in there save a glass of water and a notepad. So, that was a clue right away. She gave a rueful smile. This was to be an interview without coffee. Without uttering a word, the security men left the room, closing the door behind them.
Angela sat in silence as the clock ticked quietly on the wall behind her. On the floors above, she thought, the men and women of the Secret Intelligence Service were going about their normal business, closing down their workstations for the night, fetching their coats, retrieving items from their personal lockers in the corridor, making plans for the evening. But not her. Instead, she felt like the twenty-two-year-old Angela Scott, still in her last year at university, waiting nervously for that first tentative interview in Carlton Gardens, the encounter with the recruiting officer that would eventually open the doors to all her years as a case officer and station chief.
The door opened. She was expecting it to be Felix Schauer who walked through it, but it wasn’t. It was Alex Matheson. Angela saw the MI6 Chief turn to the Security men outside the door and heard, ‘Thank you, you can leave us now.’
The door closed and Alex held out her hand. She held Angela’s for a few seconds longer than was necessary. Was this to soften her up for the blow to come? Put her off her guard? Angela said nothing, just nodded in greeting.
‘How are you bearing up, Angela?’ Alex enquired, taking a seat opposite her and pushing away the notepad. ‘You’ve been through it rather, haven’t you?’ Her face bore an expression of genuine concern. Angela shrugged. She was giving nothing away until she knew where she stood.
‘So look, Angela, I’m going to give you the bad news first. Brace yourself.’
They’re firing me, I knew it. She opened her mouth to say something but the Chief hadn’t finished.
‘And no, we’re not letting you go, in case that’s what you thought I was about to say. No. But something very serious has occurred. Something that does involve you directly.’
‘The hack,’ Angela said. ‘I do know about the Chinese hack. Security Section told me this morning. There’s something I need to tell you.’
The Chief held up a hand. ‘You don’t know the extent of it, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh?’ Angela swallowed hard. Could this possibly get any worse?
‘The operation you were working on with Luke Carlton and Jenny Li …’
‘Op Boxer.’
‘Yes. Well …’ Alex Matheson sighed and looked down at her lap. She almost seemed to be in pain as she spoke. ‘The fact is, Angela, that a message they received from your phone has sent them off to meet an extremely violent triad boss in Taiwan and—’
‘Wait – from my phone? But I never sent them any such message …’ Angela felt suddenly very cold.
‘No, we know you didn’t. That didn’t take us long to establish. Someone else did, someone who had control of your phone. But the net result, Angela, is that Luke and Jenny have now gone missing, presumed kidnapped.’
Angela felt the colour drain from her face. ‘What?’ she gasped. ‘How can you be so sure?’
The MI6 Chief sat back in her chair and looked directly at Angela. ‘They’ve lost contact with Taipei station. Luke had a tracker on him but of course whoever’s got them soon disposed of that. So now we’ve got one collector and two case officers missing somewhere on an island that is very possibly about to be invaded by mainland China. All of which means …’
The Chief let the words hang in the air for a second or two.
‘All of which means that you, Angela, are the last person I can afford to let go right now. Yes, you will have to attend the advanced cyber security course at Cheltenham, I’m afraid. Think of it as your penance, if you will. But in the meantime, I need you back on the China team ASAP.’
Angela felt a warm surge of relief ripple through her but she had something to get off her chest. ‘Um … Chief. There’s something you need to know.’
‘Go on.’
‘When I got home today I found three Chinese nationals – at least I assume they were Chinese nationals – waiting for me.’
The Chief eyed her across the table; she didn’t react.
‘They’d broken in somehow,’ Angela continued. ‘But that’s not all. They had a laptop that contained all my WhatsApp messages. Nothing classified but some very personal stuff on there. They made me an offer to come and work in Hong Kong. Well, it was really more a case of blackmail, to be honest. I think we should hand this to Thames House, don’t you? They’re clearly MSS operating on UK soil.’
The Chief paused before breaking into a broad smile. Angela felt perplexed and confused – this was not the reaction she’d expected. ‘That,’ said Alex Matheson, as she rose from the table, ‘will not be necessary. I’m afraid I arranged that little charade. I was the one who sent them. Those men were from T Branch. They work for us. You won’t have come across them before and you won’t be seeing them again. Just think of it as a test, Angela. And you passed. Welcome back!’