to a lobby behind the wall where there were stairs and four working Schindler lifts.
There were no signs or no indications of who or what was in the building and so innocuous was the whole set up that nobody ever asked. On rare occasions a tourist might wander in and security politely turned them away with directions.
Occasional people passing by accidentally went in and were redirected. On one infamous occasion security was breached and the lift was used. The breach was in 1974 when a CIA operative tried to penetrate the building using very good fake paperwork. Mild nerve gas was blown into the left hand lift, which he had entered thinking it real, after which he was taken to a hospital and thanks to the after effects of the gas couldn’t remember two days of his life, let alone the fact that it was a fake lift that he had tried to use.
David put his hand on the glass surface covering part of the front desk and passed the first part of the biometric security system. One security guard took his rucksack and the large holdall and passed it into a small side room where the hands of an unseen guard gripped both bags in one hand, with the ease of a very strong man, David noticed. The two security men manning the front of house were casual about their work in a way that only truly capable security operatives can be in as much as they exuded the quiet threat of dangerous potential. The desk gap opened up and McKie walked in through the hidden entrance in the back wall, opened by security. In the lobby behind the wall he used a retina scan to get into one of the real and working lifts. He’d have needed the same biometrics for the door on the stairs, had he a mind to walk up. The fact was he didn’t want to walk up, mostly because he had to see Jack Fulton and his office was thirty-one floors up. Jack Fulton was head of DIC.
DIC centre is thirty-six storeys high with a basement underneath. It’s a decent sized space and if you added up the number of household centres around the country the DIC organisation floor space would rival the Palace of Westminster and Buckingham Palace put together.
Below the techno roof of the building are five floors of overnight apartments with en suite bathrooms and central shared kitchens for the staff, including the active duty team.
Jack Fulton had his own rooms, but mucked in with his team in the kitchen. The floor below the overnight apartments was where McKie was headed; Fulton and his office staff worked there. The fifteen floors below that contain gathering centres. These are staffed night and day by two shifts of full time officers. There are computers for the collection of in bound material, website monitoring and recording radio newscasts and there are banks of TV screens with rolling news linked to digital recorders filling both floors. The six floors below that are duty team offices and the staff canteens. This seemingly odd combination puts the rotating staff in contact with the permanent staff regularly which is enough to build good relations and bond the teams. The six levels below these are technical support centres staffed by some of the best technicians the country can supply including the front CCTV firm people.
The first four floors house the vast computer system and a small armoury. McKie’s lift journey took him unseeing through the centre of this tightly packed and dynamic building.
The two week duty team rota is made up of DIC operatives aged twenty-five to forty-five. Each local area operative between those ages spends at least two weeks a year at the centre in London and should the need arise be ready to travel around the country to deal with any small or large problem highlighted by the intelligence sent in from the local area watchers. Some DIC operatives do up to three fortnight shifts a year at the centre depending on age and lifestyle. Other than that they work from home, most of the year.
Knowing that he was about to spend two weeks in the building McKie felt both excited and a little homesick about not being there in the evening to be with his family. He consoled himself that in the long run he’d be around his family a lot more as a result of the job.
The cold and warm air conditioning in the building was perfect and as a result a comfortable temperature greeted David as he exited the lift to be met by Jack Fulton.
Fulton had served his time as a DIC operative and passed the rigorous selection process to run the service after only five years in the job. He’d been top man for twenty years. Selected from the diplomatic branch of the civil service at twenty-five, a Cambridge graduate, he’d distinguished himself on two crucial occasions for the country, once in nineteen eighty five and once in nineteen eighty seven. The latter adventure had left him with a limp from a broken leg. A year later he was put in charge.
He had been a short and wiry young man, but the limp precluded exercise and he had at fifty acquired a rounder, though not fat, stature. Along with his physique, his white hair and short white beard gave him the appearance of a friendly and amiable teacher. His grey eyes though betrayed the chess playing genius and brilliant mind within and for a moment David recalled the image of a wolf in sheep’s clothing that had come to mind the first time he had met Jack Fulton.
A small dry hand firmly held his own large bony fingers and as an added gesture of welcome Jack placed his left hand warmly on top of their grip.
“So good to see you. You’re right on time. Is everything going well?”
David said that it was and Fulton guided him, hand on back towards an office, passing through his secretary’s ante chamber, he introduced her.
“This is Magda, Magda David. You’ll have read all about him no doubt.”
“White tea in the morning, no sugar, will you have some now?”
David was not taken aback. He had answered a ream of questions and been subsequently quizzed on all his answers several times as part of the selection procedure.
“That’ll be lovely thanks.”
Fulton gestured to a chair as he closed his office door, McKie sat and Fulton took his place across the desk.
“I had the report from Lympstone. You’re quite an athlete. The unarmed combat instructor said you were flexible and in some ways fairly unstoppable and the firearms instructors said you had good eyes and steady hands. Quite a shot by all accounts, but I want you to know now that though the unarmed combat and firearms training is essential it’s rare, sometimes unheard of for an operative of DIC to need it. No it’s the observation, the fast mental processing, the image and detail recall and the thinking skills that mark you and all our DIC people as a force to be reckoned with.”
“Brains not brawn I know.”
“Quite right, though you appear to have an ample supply of both. I’m very pleased David, very pleased to have you on our team.”
“Thank you. I’m delighted to have got on the team.”
“Good. Well we’ll wait for Magda with the tea. Whilst we do I’ll go through the building layout, procedures and other useful information.”
Fulton drew out no papers, gave out no hand book and didn’t give David paper or pencil. He reeled out a stream of information and David listened and mentally stored it for immediate recall. Tea came half way through and they both ignored it until Fulton was done. Finally they both sipped their tea.
“Any questions?”
“No that all seems clear.”
“Good. Then finish that tea and give me a tour of the building.”
“Give you a tour?”
“Little test of our brain training eh?”
“Right sir.”
“It’s not the army David, you call me Jack.”
“Sure enough”
They got up.
“Where do we start?”
“At the top Jack, I’d like to see if you’ve put my luggage in the right room. You did say room six didn’t you?”
Jack smiled.
“Lead on David, lead on.”
Chapter 14
