slot. Stratton dug his military ID card out of a pocket and pushed it into the reader. The card came out seconds later, a green light flashed, accompanied by a gentle beep, and the heavy gate began to open.
He must have found the place. No turning back now. There was an element of adventure to this, at least.
He drove on through and the gate closed behind the Jeep. Up ahead the trees gave way to a wide, unfenced compound. An insignificant-looking place, at least compared with the organisation’s daunting reputation and indeed with what he had been expecting. Enough for him to wonder again if it was the right location.
Everything about the compound looked as though it had been constructed during the last world war. An area the size of a football pitch had been cleared of trees, concrete had been poured and levelled, and a collection of long, narrow prefabricated bungalows had been positioned in neat rows. It must have taken all of a week to construct.
Stratton followed a path of faded white lines that turned abruptly through a gap between two buildings into a square. Parked to one side were half a dozen ordinary-looking modern cars, the only indication of human life somewhere nearby. Stratton drove into an empty slot and turned off his motor.
A sudden silence. Stillness. Refreshing until Stratton realised it was too quiet. He couldn’t even hear any birds. He climbed out of the Jeep and looked around. All the windows in the identical buildings had been either painted over or boarded up. Despite the run-down look of the place there wasn’t a speck of rubbish or debris. Stratton wondered if he had missed a sign that instructed visitors where to go or what to do. Or perhaps the super-duper MI16 organisation was unaware that someone had arrived at their secret facility.
Stratton would have loved to surprise Binning and his pals. That would take the edge off his resentment. Somehow, though, he didn’t think he was going to be that lucky.
A small sign above one of the cabin doors announced rather mutedly ENTRANCE and he headed towards it.
As he was about to open the door he glimpsed part of an odd and until now hidden structure - odd insofar as it looked out of place date-wise. A few steps beyond the edge of the cabin a short steel staircase led to a modern helicopter pad. A fire-foam system circled the entire structure, looking as if it was automated. A concrete block on the far side had what appeared to be large metal sheets sunk at a steep angle into its face. They looked like sliding doors although there were no handles.
Stratton returned to the door with the entrance sign. The handle was shiny and well used. He opened the door to reveal a snug, sterile lobby. The rest of the building was partitioned off, the floor covered in fake tiled linoleum and the ceiling stained by leaks.
A gentle humming sound, like that of distant machinery, filtered in from somewhere. Set into a wall was a bland lift door, a single call button on the frame. Stratton pressed it.
The lift opened to reveal a space big enough for half a dozen people. He stepped inside. The door closed but the lift remained still. There were only two buttons and a card slot on the control panel. He pushed the lower button. Another humming sound came from above but he felt no sense of movement. Either it was an incredibly smooth mechanism, or something else was happening.
A series of stark blue LED lights, their bulbs hitherto invisible, rippled from the lift’s ceiling to the floor.
‘Remove the battery from your communication device, please,’ a softly spoken computer-generated voice instructed.
Stratton took his BlackBerry from its hip holster and as soon as he removed the battery the voice thanked him.
‘Remove your wristwatch, please.’
Stratton frowned and removed his watch. A metal drawer slid out from the side of the lift.
‘Place all items in the drawer, please.’
Stratton obeyed. The drawer closed.
‘Thank you.’
The lift began to descend.
When it came to a halt the doors slid open. Binning stood in front of him dressed in a pair of running shorts and a sleeveless sports shirt with a towel around his neck, looking as if he’d just had a rigorous workout. His muscular arms and legs presented quite the picture of athleticism.
‘Stratton,’ he announced, wearing a broad smile and acting like they were old friends. ‘Good to see you again.’ He held out a hand.
Stratton stifled his hostility and shook the man’s hand. ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling slightly and wondering if Binning was a two-faced sod, thick-skinned, or had had nothing to do with the criticism that he had faced. He chose to believe the first option just in case.
‘Sorry you were left to fend for yourself up there. I was in the middle of a fierce circuit when I heard you’d arrived. Do come in.’
‘This box has my phone and watch,’ Stratton said.
‘Of course.’ Binning pulled a card from a pocket. ‘It’s routine, I’m afraid. It’s designed to detect electronic devices, weapons and explosives. We have no physical security in this place, no guards. Nothing’s allowed in or out without clearance. I’m qualified at least to get you your phone and watch back.’ He slid the card into the slot. A second later the drawer opened and he handed Stratton his items. ‘So. I take it you found us without any problems. I would expect so. Man of your calibre. I see you like an open-top Jeep even in the middle of winter. Man after my own heart.’
Binning was certainly in a chipper mood.
‘I don’t suppose anyone warned you about this place,’ the scientist continued as they stepped into a pristine white pentagon-shaped lobby, the ceiling low, a few chairs around the walls. ‘I don’t know the last time one of your people came up, and I’ve been here six years. Let’s start with the canteen, get a cup of tea, warm you up a bit. Then we’ll meet the boss. I think he’d rather show you around himself.’
Binning led the way into a broad curving corridor. It was a complete contrast to the dilapidated cabins above.
‘How far down do you think we are?’ Binning asked.
‘Haven’t a clue,’ Stratton muttered, uninterested in guessing games.
‘The ceiling is a hundred feet from the surface. There’s supposed to be over three miles of tunnels down here but unless they’ve hidden some of them I think that’s an exaggeration.’
One of the walls gave way to plate glass from floor to ceiling, an empty conference room beyond. Then a series of offices and data-storage rooms either side of the corridor. It was all very high-tech. The place sounded alive, a mixture of electronic humming and moving air.
‘They built these tunnels at the same time as the buildings up top, a couple of years into the Second World War. Then it became some kind of government emergency evacuation centre in the event of a nuclear attack. That was sometime during the late 1940s, early 1950s. MI16 took it over twenty years ago. It has been completely gutted and modernised, of course.’
Binning pushed through a pair of swing doors into a canteen equipped with chairs and tables for a dozen people. The place had a row of food and drink dispensers, a handbasin with a soap dispenser and paper towels, and several hatches labelled for various types of waste that were set into a wall.
‘We’re very much a help-yourself organisation down here. Everything’s self-service. All part of the security. You get used to it,’ Binning said as he pushed a button on a machine that responded by dispensing a plastic cup followed by a jet of brown liquid. ‘Tea, coffee, or something else perhaps? There are sodas, fruit juices, soup if you prefer.’
‘Coffee, thanks. White, no sugar.’
Binning pressed the appropriate button but the machine did not respond. ‘Of course, it’s a bugger when something breaks down. It’s like trying to pass a bill through Parliament to get a mechanic down here.’ The machine suddenly responded. ‘Do you know much about MI16?’ he asked, handing Stratton the drink.
Stratton shrugged. ‘Only that you make toys.’
‘Yes, I do like that expression. War toys for war boys. We’re essentially divided into three parts: research and theory, construction and development, and then testing and field trials. We have around a dozen staff down here, a dozen more low-key techs at another surface location. We work in quite a unique way, a sort of free-form system. Anyone can work on any project at any of the stages - within reason, of course. Can’t neglect the boring jobs or
