course,” Osbourne said with finality. He looked down at his laptop again to make it clear the discussion on this matter was closed and he wanted to move on. There was another period of gloomy silence in the room as he did so.
“So what went wrong in Helsinki?” Osbourne was looking at Dr Skinner.
“I don’t know. Everything went more or less to plan. Mitchell gave him the key and verbal instructions.”
“But is Winter up and running? Is anything happening?” “We don’t know. We haven’t heard anything yet.”
“So probably nothing is happening. Any idea why?”
Dr Skinner glanced nervously at the expectant faces around the table.
“I, I mean Mitchell followed the procedure to switch phases. He got a signature and he followed the procedure to flip him back.
Then he gave Snowman the key and told him what to do with it. Maybe he was confused and didn’t remember what the key was for. Phase transition is not easy.”
“Other possibilities?”
Skinner shrugged. “Maybe Snowman doesn’t want to do it.”
“After all these years, I think that’s unlikely.”
Jack Logan butted in, “Yes, but maybe this is too hot to handle. Experienced operatives like Mitchell don’t just top themselves for no reason.”
Callan spoke: “But there does seem to be a reason in Mitchell’s case: ChiroButyline-A. As for Snowman, the most likely explanation for his inactivity is that he couldn’t understand what to do because you guys had just turned his mind inside out. Or imagine if he was in the wrong state when you gave him the instructions – he would probably be completely unaware of them when he flipped back.”
Dr Skinner made a gesture as though he wanted to interrupt, but changed his mind. Graham Wood and Tom Brookes were looking bored now. All they knew about this was that they didn’t need to know anything.
Callan continued: “It could be that he simply had no idea what to do with this damned key he found in his possession. He probably threw it away. He might have handed it in to the hotel, thinking it belonged to someone else.”
“We could have that checked out,” Dr Skinner said. “We could phone the hotel.”
“I doubt if they keep records of people handing keys in to them, Skinner,” Osbourne said. “But I think you might be onto something, Callan. Let’s assume that it’s true that he was in no state to remember verbal instructions and he misplaced the key or threw it away – what can we do about it now?”
“Give him the whole package again in writing,” Callan said.
“But how?” Osbourne asked. “Mitchell gave him the instructions verbally in Helsinki and we expected him to cooperate. As far as Snowman is concerned, nobody else was involved. Dr Skinner wasn’t there and he was going to communicate only with Mitchell. So what are we going to do? How are we going to give him the instructions again?”
“Send them through the post anonymously,” Callan offered.
“Why would he swallow that?” said Osbourne. “What’s the scenario? Did Mitchell send them knowing he was about to…?”
“OK,” Callan agreed, “No, that won’t do.”
Osbourne said, “We need someone who was already involved for this to be credible to him. We’ve got no one.”
Dr Skinner hesitated and then said: “Apart from myself but, as we know, I’ve not been cleared to see him in any circumstances since the separation event, in case of fusion. So, yes, there’s no one suitable.”
“There is one other person,” Callan stated.
“Who?” Dr Skinner asked. He seemed both surprised and worried.
“Mitchell told me about a girl that he used for errands. He told me he intended to use her to try to keep an eye out – ”
“But this is completely irregular! How was he using this girl? Who the hell is she to – ”
“I gave him permission. As it turns out, she could be just the person to keep this project on track.”
“But, you’re hardly authorised to have given per…”
Now Osbourne interrupted: “Please, Dr Skinner, spare us. All is fair in love and war. Let’s consider this possibility.”
8. A Meeting In The Park
A week had passed since news of Mitchell’s suicide. Since then, Richard hadn’t had a lot to do – perhaps Mitchell had been more effective at delegating work than he had been given credit for. This afternoon he sat at his desk watching everyone else work. The integration team were not at their desks. It was Thursday; they must be in the main meeting room. Rayhaan from pre-sales was screwing his face up at his screen. No doubt there was something about his power-point presentation that was causing him some concern. In pre-sales, you had to be careful of exactly what you said, and how you said it.
Richard’s thoughts drifted back to Helsinki. That Helsinki trip had been quite a jaunt! He reminded himself of one particularly delightful event. A few days after meeting Mitchell, he had been sitting in the hotel bar minding his own business when some super-nice girl started chatting to him. They ended up getting blind drunk together. He recalled her showing him a tattoo on the top of her thigh, hitching up her skirt so he could read it (which was nice of her). He had a vague memory of rolling around in bed with her shortly afterwards. Unfortunately, he was so drunk he couldn’t remember any details. He had no idea if she was good in bed or not, and it was unlikely he had been, the state he was in. “Rolling around in bed” was probably an all-too-accurate description of what they’d done. All he could remember about her was she had long brown hair and green eyes. She had a name like Mandy, or Elaine, or Ella or Maureen, or something. Well, she had some sort of name. Most people do, especially girls. In the morning she was gone before he’d woken up. It was a shame. And it was also a shame he was stuck in London just now. When you were abroad, staying in a hotel and on decent expenses, things like that tended to happen. Well, maybe not quite like that; she really had been something.
Time dragged for Richard. There were only a few other people around, all busy looking at their terminals. There was no one to talk to; they were not exactly transfixed by their terminals, but it was clearly their preferred way of interfacing with reality. Talking to any of them would be considered an annoying distraction. Even those of them that had been emailing him today.
It was time to take another look at today’s emails. Nothing special there; the usual stuff about cakes in the kitchen for someone’s birthday. Richard knew the cakes were all gone by now. He had one himself just to be sociable, even though he didn’t know the person concerned. The core five lift was out of order… Don’t use the sales dept printer until further notice…
There was an email from Mitchell. For half a second, Richard truly believed it was from Mitchell. He opened it with a sense of dread, as though he really was going to be hearing from beyond the grave.
“Meet me at the bandstand in Hyde Park at three p.m. today.”
There was nothing else. Just that. It couldn’t be Mitchell, of course. It was someone else
