© Batz Goodfortune / All Electric Kitchen 1998
Shameless plug for my band of which you should you should all go out and buy my CD immediately.
Philip Salisman was in the centre but to one end of the dance floor, surrounded by computers and computer based equipment. Strapped across his shoulder was a portable strap-on keyboard instrument upon which he was playing a solo. The crowd were jumping and jiving to his computer generated beat. Most were tranced out on zonk, the latest designer drug, said to posses the properties of both Ecstasy and LSD but mostly harmless. Accidentally discovered, zonk could be made by mixing a combination of over the counter herbal medicines. Some countries had tried to ban its use. Which was usual when the younger generation discovered a new way to get high. Some countries had tried to ban the substances from which it was made. Others just banned the possession of the combination of chemicals. But here, in Iceland, zonk was perfectly legal.
Philip was from Nova Scotia in Canada. He had come up to Iceland for the annual Nordic summer solstice rave festival. People come from all round the world. Philip had played here before but this year, 2005, was special. It was the first year that his friends and collaborators from a band called 'All Electric Kitchen' were in Iceland. They were a feature attraction. Later, after their individual sets, it was planned that Philip and AEK would play together on the big stage in front of an estimated crowd of forty thousand people. But Philip had another reason for being in town. Being this far north at this time was ideal for him to pursue his other secret passion. A secret passion that would land him in more trouble than he could have imagined. And trouble that would prevent him from performing with all electric kitchen after all.
Philip finished his set. The crowed were into the groove and were disappointed but that was his lot for the evening. His roadies came out and helped him pack up and lock down his gear. In the booth over the dance floor a head appeared. It was the head of DJ Gronk who immediately started thrashing out beats on vinyl. The zonked out crowed began zonking again. Picking up where they had left off although the mood was different. Now they were in the complete trance like control of DJ Gronk.
The gear was packed up and stowed in the back of the truck. It was now in the roadies hands to put it into safe storage till it was required again tomorrow night. It was a pleasant change to have roadies to help with the gear, thought Philip. Especially in two days time for the big event. For now though, Philip was free. He walked to the bar taking pats on the back from the audience who had really gone off. They had gone off far more than he was use to with his usual home town Nova Scotia audiences. He sat on a bar stool and ordered Jack on the rocks. He was waiting for his friend from the All Electric Kitchen to arrive. He had something to show him. It was nearly 3 am. It wasn't advisable to drink and take zonk but one or maybe two wouldn't hurt thought Philip.
He spotted Psylem Lampoon from across the dance floor. Psylem was looking for Philip but had not spotted him yet. Philip instinctively waved his arm high above his head to attract his attention. It had the desired effect and Psylem began to work his way around the dancing zonks. It also had the effect of attracting many of the zonks who were now waving back to Philip in a similar fashion in time with the music. He seemed to have accidentally invented a new zonk dance craze as within seconds the entire crowd of dancing zonks were back in their own reality. Waving their respective arms at each other and swaying in time with DJ Gronk's beats. "Gronks on Zonks" Thought Philip as his friend approached.
"How 'n' hell are ya doin'?" shouted Psylem over the noise.
"Fine, fine," said Philip. "It's a shame you missed the set. I really like playing to zonked out people." Psylem attempted to order a jelly bean from the Icelandic barman. The barman had no idea what he was talking about.
"It's Ouzo and you mix it with lemonade and raspberry cordial," shouted Psylem but the barman still didn't get it.
"Forget it," said Philip. "They don't do Jelly beans."
Psylem looked at him disappointedly. "But it's all I drink."
Philip sculled the rest of his Jack and said. "Don't worry about it. Lets get out of here I've got something to show you."
The two spaced out techno heads stood and prepared to leave. Philip slipped his jacket on and they were off.
"Where are we going?" asked Psylem.
"Back to my hotel room," said Philip.
Psylem was puzzled but shrugged his shoulders and tagged along regardless. Life was one big adventure to Psylem.
Iceland being so far north, although it was 3 am in the summer it was still quite light. So as the two men walked from Cafe Reykjavik where Philip had been playing, to the Borg Hotel where Philip had a room, the city was bathed in a permanent twilight. The land of the midnight sun they called it. They reached Philip's hotel and approached the desk clerk.
"Room 201 please," said Philip. The desk clerk retrieved the key and hand it to him.
"Thanks" he said. The young woman said something harsh and Viking-like in return. Philip didn't understand and just nodded as he moved off. As they headed for the elevators Psylem noticed two men in the lobby get up and saunter in their direction.
"Lets take the stairs" he said.
"What?" said Philip.
"I said. Take the stairs." Psylem said it under his breath and between gritted teeth in such a forceful manner that Philip couldn't help but comply. When they reached the first step Psylem said.
"Now run like hell." He grabbed Philip by the shoulder and pulled him forward. They both ran as fast as they could to the first floor. Psylem grabbed Philip's shoulder again and pulled him to one side. Instead of going round and up to the next floor, Psylem found a nook where they could duck into and wait.
"What are we doing here for?" said Philip part out of breath and part stunned.
"Just wait, you'll see," said Psylem. And as the two men caught their respective breaths, two black suited gentlemen came flying up the stairs after them. They didn't stop but kept going. Round and up the stairs to the next floor.
"Come on," said Psylem and he was off after them. Psylem expected Philip to be lagging behind. Still thinking he wouldn't have caught on. But half way to the top Philip was passing him. Not even looking back in any spirit of competition. Now Psylem was the surprised one. They reached the second floor to see two black suited gentlemen scratching their heads and looking around. Philip walked straight up to one of them who had now seen him. The two men had the guiltiest looks Psylem had ever seen.
"You looking for me," said Philip in a very challenging manner.
"Arr. Umm. No we err were."
"Well, just fuck off then. Go on piss the fuck off," said Philip in a threatening manner that Psylem could not understand. He wouldn't have credited the normally reserved Philip Salisman with such forceful behaviour. Without another word the two black suited gentlemen indeed, fucked off. Back down the stair case from whence they came. If they had tails they would have been well tucked up between their respective legs.
* * *
"What was that for?" Said Psylem, now following the strutting Philip to his hotel room. "Hell it's only the press. Probably looking for another anti zonk story. You know what they're like. No need to . . "
But Salisman cut him off short. "I don't suppose you noticed that thirty eight packed in a shoulder holster underneath that coat did you?" said Philip.
Psylem stopped dead. "What?" he shouted.
"Keep your voice down. People are trying to sleep here," said Philip as he continued to his hotel room door.
"Look come inside I wanna show you something."
Psylem approached the door as Philip was unlocking it. He swung the door open but as Psylem was about to enter Philip put his hand up against the door frame barring his entrance.
"Wait." Philip felt for the light switch and turned it on. As he did so, Psylem stepped back from the door as the reality grabbed him. He'd seen this kind of behaviour in B-grade movies but he never thought he'd be living it. There was no-one in the room and nothing seemed disturbed. Philip looked around a bit and Psylem looked at Philip looking around a bit. Pennies were still dropping in Psylem's mind and the noise was disorienting him. Philip made a beeline for the bedroom. He scooped his lap-top up from the bed and brought it out into the living room. He placed it on the table and opened it up. It played a portion of the opening theme to 'Thunderbirds'.
He pointed to a small, tacky, portable CD player sitting on a cupboard at the other end of the table. "Press play on the CD player will you."
Psylem had to look around. He still wasn't oriented but in a few moments he located the play switch and pressed it. Not a second later it began to spew forth a guttural woman's voice singing some kind of modern blues with an electronic backing.
"I didn't know you were into Stalk," said Psylem instantly recognising the opening bars. "God I hate this crap. It's a total bastardization of electronic music. People like this should be banned from playing synthesizers."
Philip typed away on his computer a little more and without looking up said: "Yeah, I hate this crap. It's so much commercial hype."
Once again Psylem was confused. He felt like he was trying to pick up the threads of a movie he had started to watch from half way through. "So why are we listening to it then?"
"We're not," said Philip almost before Psylem had finished his own sentence. "Could you eject it please and give it to me. Be real careful with it."
Psylem pressed eject. The music stopped and a second later the lid of the CD player popped and the CD was available. He extracted it handling it only by the edges. He passed it to Philip in such away that he could grab it and also not have to touch the bottom of the disk. As he passed it to him he thought how amazing it was that professional people always did things like that automatically. It was like it was pre-coded in their brains.
"Notice anything odd about this disk?" Said Philip as he showed the label to Psylem like he was endorsing a product.
"Err no?" said Psylem. "Looks like a piece of crap commercial CD to me."
Philip turned it over, and prompted Psylem again. The disk had a slight bronze tinge to it but nothing unusual. Then Philip placed it into the CD drive of his lap-top and it suddenly dawned on Psylem what was wrong.
"That's a re-write, isn't it?"
"Yup," said Philip nodding his head.
"Nice job on the label," said Psylem. "How 'n hell did you get it to look like that?"
"Ahh. Now that would be telling," said Philip as he punched in some information. "It's a special multi-mode CD I blew on the new re-write burners at work."
Now it was Psylem's turn to nod. "So what are you doing now?" said Psylem.
"The data is PGP encrypted with a one hundred and twenty eight word key. The key it self is too hard to remember so I've encoded that with a forty bit key. I've hidden them all in a file with two thousand bogus keys and which is encrypted with my phone number and in turn with an easy to remember secret number. There are two other people who know how to get into this file and it would take both of them to do it. Just a minute. As you can imagine, this takes a little bit of unlocking."
"Why all the secrecy?" asked Psylem but all he got in return was a.
"Shhhhhh." From Philip. He looked around the room whilst Philip did his work. He noticed that the CD cover for the bogus Stalk CD was sitting on the far side of the CD player. He picked it up and instinctively started to inspect it.
"Oh that's the real cover," said Philip. "I reluctantly bought a real copy of the CD and used it as a drink coaster." Then he took one final key stroke on his lap-top keyboard and said.
"Ok we're in."
He looked up at Psylem who was coming toward him to see what all the fuss was about. Philip continued: "Like I said there are only two other people who know how to access this stuff if they need to. They would only need to if I died. It's in a couple of relatively safe places on the Internet. Disguised as some of those Unix files that no-one knows what they do."
Psylem was no longer surprised by anything Philip said now.
"I've been following this stuff for the past five or six years. I was out at my brother's place in Newfoundland and I tell ya, I seen some weird shit, Psy."
Right then, a fuzzy picture of what looked like some kind of boat off the coast somewhere appeared on the lap-top screen. Philip looked back at the laptop and then back at Psylem.
"Back then I didn't have a digital camera and I wasn't sure what it was I was seeing."
"What's this s'pose to be?" laughed Psylem. "The fucking Loch Ness monster."
"Oh I'm sorry," said Philip. "I didn't have a digital camera but my thirty-five mil had a zoom lens on it." The next picture rolled down to reveal the weirdest looking submarine on the surface of some ocean or other. Perfectly sharp looming large on the screen.
"Now that's impressive," said Psylem. "That's gotta be one of the best renderings I've seen."
"Oh that's no computer generated picture," said Philip. "I took that with my camera. The one thing this particular file doesn't include is the location of the negatives. But suffice it to say they're in a safe place."
"You're kidding," said Psylem, then he noticed the look of deadly seriousness on Philip's face. He said more slowly and detached.
"You're not kidding are you?"
Philip was shaking his head.
"That is the wickedest submarine I've ever seen," said Psylem "That's assuming that it actually is a submarine."
Then Philip turned to the computer again and flipped to the next image. A silver disk object in the distance. Fuzzy and not very clear.
"This was a couple of hours later." Another shot and the silver object was closer. Now it really looked like a flying saucer.
"What 'n fuck is that?" said Psylem.
"That my friend is a bonafide non-existent unidentified flying object. You know those things they say don't exist." There was another shot appearing on the screen. Even closer than before. Now Psylem could see the detail.
"It was pretty close by that stage," continued Philip as Psylem took in the implications. Still not knowing whether to believe his eyes.
"Now check this out," said Philip as he flipped to the next shot. A strange looking dark coloured object with wings in the distance. Then another shot of it closer, flying on the same flight path as the UFO. A dark green colour or so it seemed. It was the strangest looking air craft Psylem had seen. Like a cross between an army tank and NASA's aging space shuttle. Philip looked up for approval and then flipped some more photographs. First an even closer shot of sky one. Then a shot from the rear after it had passed over.
"These things were actually dog fighting right around me. It was incredible. But they didn't see me hiding in among the rocks. See here." He pointed to a sort of blurred rock formation in the foreground of this new shot. The next photo flipped up The UFO again in the distance. Then another shot with the UFO on the right of the photo and the black winged object on the left. Another shot as they both headed out to see again. Only this time there was a streak of light in the photo. Like a line drawn from the aircraft to the space craft. Finally another shot with the air craft in the distance and fiery debris falling from the sky.
"Damn. The good guys never win do they," said Psylem.
"Oh don't worry. Those were definitely the bad guys. The good guys wear dark green in this story."
He flipped back to the first photograph again and left it there.
"So after that I started to wonder what it was I'd just witnessed. I thought it was some kind of military experiment but it didn't make much sense. Only the Americans could have pulled off something like that and why would they be off the cost of Newfoundland. There's not even one of our military facilities within five hundred Ks of there. So I got curious and I started following things up. I had my comms test rig back in the truck so as soon as they were gone I tore off to see if I could hear anything."
"And did you?" said Psylem.
"Yup I heard plenty. But that didn't tell me anything exactly. It was all digitally encoded. Much like the encryption I've used here. But I recorded this stuff with the scanner and kept it till later. I messed with it but there wasn't much I could do with it."
Psylem butted in. "So how can you be sure what you recorded was from that. That... Whatever it was?"
"Actually it was a flying saucer being pursued by a secret military organization called SHADO. But I'll get to that.
"Now I didn't think too much more of it but I was sitting at work one day. It was a weekend as I recall. I was the only one rostered on so I was there alone. I was flipping through the comms channels. We some times do just to make sure everything is going OK. There was something bugging me. Every time I'd switch through a couple of bands it sent a shiver up my spine. I couldn't work out why but then I realized it was the same sounding signal I'd recorded that day."
"I thought you worked for a telephone company?" said Psylem.
"Yeah, I work in what could be best described as the telecommunications division. It's a fairly sizable up/down station for satellite comms. Everything goes through there."
Psylem understood to an extent. "So what kinda stuff?"
"Oh we get everything coming though there. Some of the stuff we don't have a clue what it is. I know that some of it is military but I always figured it was low security stuff. I mean I would have never thought they'd put top secret stuff multiplexed in with the telephones but it would seem not the case. Anyway I heard this sound and eventually it dawned on me that it was the sound I recorded. Now strictly speaking we're not supposed to listen in to anything. Not even the television broadcasts that pass through the station. But we have to because it's the only way we can make sure everything is going OK. We have around twenty thousand links in and out of the place. And that doesn't include the multiplexed telephones and the new vid phones. We're not sposed to have anything to do with this stuff but we've got all the equipment to hear it or display it or view it. We always watch the news feeds and the Internet and stuff." He laughed and raised his eyebrows. "The Porn channels... Why do you think I have time to send you all that E-mail and pirate software."
Psylem was smiling a very naughty smile. It was contagious.
"So anyway I started messing with this signal. Actually there were four such signals. They were all similar but after a while of looking at them on the scope I could see they were pretty different. The thing is that they were encrypted with a rotating key. But the silly buggers hadn't counted on anyone just sitting there and looking at them. it took me another three weekends. Nearly six weeks went by to decode it. I wasn't rostered on every weekend so I just had to wait till I got the opportunity. It was pretty scary stuff but I started to pull the signal apart. I could see where the key was rolling over so it wasn't hard to work out what was going on. There were actually two pairs of signals. One was the key and the other one was the data. Kind of like a synchronization signal. They probably thought that someone like me, with a scanner, would only be able to pick up the data signal and there's no way anyone could break that. But there, In the stat-link exchange, all the signals just happened to be together. Once I realized that, all I had to do was work out a base key, synchronize the two and Bob's yur auntie's live-in lover."
Philip paused for a moment very pleased with his explanation. More pleased though was that Psylem was the first person he had ever talked to about this that would understand the technicalities of his work.
"But even cracking the base key would have been hard. It's hard enough to crack a forty bit key," said Psylem. "You couldn't do that with a domestic computer." Philip was holding his finger up in the air in an exclamation gesture.
"But. But but, at work, guess what. We just happen to have a super computer. Now it's actually got quadruple redundancy. Which as you know means there are actually four super computers working in parallel. They all do the same job but if one breaks down or makes a mistake, there are three others to back it up. So what I did was work out how I could take one of them off line for maintenance. To do that I had to first work out how to falsify the logs. That was tricky enough. But I gotta tell ya. It's so much fun rooting round in these super computers. They do most of the stuff for you it's incredible. In the end it was a simple matter of throwing the thing back on-line. Or on-line in test mode. Then the other three machines told it. You're crazy. And they dumped all the correct operating data back into it. Including the correct logs." Now Philip was becoming really pleased with his own ingenuity.
"God I never through of you as a hacker, Philip," said Psylem.
"I'm not," said Philip. "But it was something I just had to do." Philip was now almost giggling excitedly and becoming more animate than Psylem had ever known. Psylem was caught up in the story also by now.
"So anyway I crunched the base key and then with the signals synchronized I could extract the data. It was actually easier than I thought. So easy that it only took me half an hour or so to do every time I wanted to set it up."
"Yeah I was gonna ask about that," said Psylem. "You'd have to crunch the key every time otherwise once you broke comms you'd loose the key."
"Yeah that's right." Continued Philip. "Anyway, the hard part came demodulating the data. Working out what was audio and what was video and so forth. There weren't many clues to go on. It took me about three months but I eventually sorted it out. Ha! By that time I had got so good at it that I had a little program written for the prism, that's the super computer, which I inserted on a cart and it crunched the key and then bounced itself back on line. And all transparently. The program being wiped out the moment it got kicked over by the other machines."
Psylem was now concerned about something. "But what if it hadn't have re-booted or whatever it was spose to be doing?"
"Oh once it didn't. I nearly shat myself but I went through the procedure manually and it dumped back on line again. Man I was really packin' it."
Then Psylem had another query. "But didn't the other machines register an error every time the box was kicked back on line again? I mean don't they have error logs." Philip just laughed. To him this was the funniest part of all.
"You see the software we run on these boxes quite often gave different answers. There's only one error code. The same code is generated if a calculation error occurs or if the box just plain up and dies. What's worse is that the error only logs when the machine comes back. So in essence, As long as I rotated the box I picked on each time, the error logs just looked normal. Not that anyone ever bothered to read the damn things anyway. The only time they'd ever do that is if there was some catastrophic failure. It was a total scam."
Philip stopped to catch his breath. He put one hand poised over a key on his lap-top.
"So anyway it took me three months work to figure out how to decode everything but this says it all." He hit the entire key and the SHADO logo appeared on the screen.
"What's SHADO?" said Psylem.
"Supreme Headquarters Alien Defence Organization," said Philip. "Stupid acronym but quite cool don't you think?" He smiled at Psylem but he seemed as yet indifferent to it.
"Ok so once I cracked that nut I stared recording. Every chance I could I've got data and text and video. I've got shit loads of stuff you wouldn't believe. These guys have got bases on the moon for Christ sake."
"What? You're right I don't believe it," said Psylem. "But what about..." There was a knock at the door.
"We'll continue this later," said Philip. He quickly ejected the CD then a porno picture appeared on the lap-top. A particularly tasteless lesbian bondage photo, grainy and not very appealing. He handed the CD to Psylem and gestured towards the CD player. Psylem nodded and turned toward the player as Philip rose to answer the door. As he approached it he turned to Psylem and said: "It's alright I can hear laughing."
Now Psylem could hear it too as he closed the CD door of the CD player. It sounded like a man and several women. Psylem rased his eyebrows. Philip opened the door quickly still half expecting to find something more ominous out side but was relieved with what he saw.
"Philip, me ol' pal." Came the drunken voice. There in the doorway, bold as brass was his tour manager, his arm round two women either side of him. An almost empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Behind him he could see one of the roadies similarly adorned. And what he thought were two more women standing behind them. "Philip Pal. I brought you a present."
"Whaaat!" shouted Commander Adrianna Pilgrim into her computer screen. "So how much does this guy actually know?"
A man in a black suit with another black suited gentleman standing behind him was on her screen. The man spoke. "He pegged us straight away. I know. I know. This kind of thing isn't meant to happen but the guy must be seriously onto us somehow."
Pilgrim. thumped the desk. "Look. We can't just rub this guy out. He's got some kind of fail safe. If anything happens to him the information will get leaked."
"He could be bluffing," said the black suit.
Pilgrim. turned her head to her chief of security, and mumbled. "Jesus H Christ. Where do we hire these idiots?"
She turned back to the black suit. "Look just keep an eye on him. Just so that we know where he is if we wanna talk to him. But don't cap him, you got that? I don't want anything to happen to him. In fact if anything at all looks like it's going to happen to him I want you to protect him. You got that dumb ass?"
She could see the black suit behind place his hand over his mouth laughing at the first black suit. "And what are you laughing at dick wad? Now get lost and do your jobs. And don't foul it up this time." Pilgrim thumped the keyboard so hard that the light weight colour LCD monitor screen bumped off her desk and onto the floor. Pilgrim was now smiling as she surveyed the wreckage. Frogleberg was smiling too. They both saw the funny side for the moment.
The six foot two Frogleberg moved in to try and straighten out the mess. He had a tough but good looking exterior, business like but with a heart of gold. He was ex Swedish Military intelligence. A very different breed of military intelligence. Ruthlessly efficient yet with an un-characteristically caring and practical nature for a security man. Just the kind of person SHADO now needed in this position.
"It looks a bit scratched but otherwise OK," he said as he placed it back on the Pilgrim's desk. There was still a comms window open on the screen and it seemed to be functioning.
"Mmm," she said as she sat back down behind her desk.
"Bjorn. I think it's time you got out there and find out what's going on." Frogleberg nodded. and headed for the door.
"Oh and Bjorn," continued Pilgrim. "I wanna know how this guy managed to tap our comms. I know he worked for some telephone company up there but I wanna know how our security could have been so compromised." Frogleberg once again turned to remove himself and get on with business.
"Oh and Bjorn. Find out how much dope he's got on us." Frogleberg stood there and waited. He was sure that the moment he tried to exit she was going to call him back again.
"Well what are you waiting for? Get going." She said and waved him off. They were both smiling realizing what she had done.
* * *
Frogleberg stopped at the communications bay in the control room. He spoke to one of the operatives there. "Do you know where Keith Ford is please?"
The operative, a young woman of just nineteen turned to her data display and said:"I'll see if I can find out for you sir." She punched up some information and zeroed in on his location. His security badge betraying him. "Colonel Ford is in the comms lab Sir." She said, smiling slightly, pleased with her efficiency.
"That's what I like to see," said Frogleberg. "Service with a smile. Do you think you could send him a message, that I'll be round there to see him in a few minutes please?" He paused and patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks" He said and moved off. Thinking to himself. "I shouldn't have done that. Patting her on the shoulder like that."
Even SHADO recognised sexual harassment in the work place. But where Frogleberg came from, people were slightly more affectionate towards one another than the stiff upper lip English attitude. On the other hand the young communications officer wouldn't have minded if he had frisked her and patted her down. Frogleberg was a catch and more likely to be harassed himself than the other way round.
He exited the control room and headed down the corridor to ballistics. He stepped inside but couldn't see anyone. He politely knocked on the office door and heard a voice say: "Come in."
He stepped through to see a man sitting at his desk with both feet up on it, a disassembled hand gun of some kind next to him and his face buried in a book of some kind. He looked up and as soon as he saw Frogleberg, immediately tried to smarten up his act. His feet dropped from the table and he straightened up in his chair. Lowering the book to his lap.
"Err sorry sir I was just trying to work out how you calibrate this err..."
Frogleberg was rasing his hand. "It's alright. Not a problem. You carry on. What ever works best for you. I just have to go out in the field and I need to talk about some weapons with you. I'm not sure what would be appropriate." The man put his book on the table with the pages facing down so that it would hold itself open to the page he was reading. He stood up and said.
"Certainly sir. What sort of mission is it?"
"Well that's the funny thing," said Frogleberg. "I'm not entirely sure. The guy we're after would seem harmless to us but if something happens to him then he has some information about SHADO that may get a little publicity. So I'm not sure if this is more for his protection than mine."
The gunsmith was now rubbing his chin. "Where are you going, exactly?" he asked.
"Well initially Iceland but the guy lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Could be anywhere really. Plus we've got those two thugs on the ground up there at the moment."
The man paused for a moment to think. "What you mean? Petrov and Snypes?"
"Yup" Said Frogleberg. "None other."
The gunsmith made a long whistle. "So basically what you're saying is that on top of everything else, you're flying up there to protect him from them as well?"
"Yup. looks like it," said Frogleberg. "So I'm not entirely sure what would be appropriate?"
"Well there's appropriate and there's appropriate," said the gunsmith. "If you really want appropriate I'd suggest you're in the wrong department. You want medical. They might be able to perform a couple of lobotomy's for you."
Frogleberg laughed. "Ha Yeah. Unfortunately we occasionally need the services of a pair of thugs."
"So why don't you just recall them?" asked the gunsmith.
"Well I will do but unfortunately they're all we've got on the ground up there at the moment."
The gunsmith shook his head. "OK then how are you getting up there?"
"I'll take a Lear X and fly in as a business delegation. I'll take a couple of guys with me. First chance we get we'll send the idiot brothers home."
"Mmm Ok then," said the gunsmith. "I was going to suggest the new range of ceramics we've got but since I assume you won't have too much trouble with customs that way. Err if you're going as a tourist or something but it doesn't sound like you'll need 'em."
Frogleberg thought about it for a moment. "Well maybe a few might be a good idea. We'll hardly need any plasma weapons. I think we'll just need some appropriate hand guns. Perhaps one of those new tiny machine pistols? What are they called again?"
"S P Sixteen?" said the gunsmith.
"Yeah that's the one," said Frogleberg.
The gunsmith stepped past him and went out into the main ballistics room. He unlocked and opened one of the many weapons lockers to reveal rows of larger than normal hand guns mounted barrel first in foam rubber holsters. He placed his fingers round the grip of one and pulled it out. Frogleberg now approached from behind.
"This be your baby, sir," said the gunsmith and he handed it to Frogleberg. "That's your magazine there." He said pointing to the strange handle. "It's not actually loaded at the moment but it can hold fifty point two two calibre projectiles. It's pretty well balanced all things considered. Rapid fire at five rounds a second. Which is pretty respectable given the guns size. The only thing you have to watch is that you don't shoot off a clip, replace it and keep blowing off clips. Eventually the thing will cease up if you do that. Especially with the silencer attached. Probably half way through the second clip. You have to make a trade off on a gun this size, sir. Oh and that's only the sixteen round clip there by the way. The fifty round clips are down here and substantially larger."
Frogleberg inspected the SP16 all over. He got the feel for it and waved it about a little.
"Do you want me to load up a clip for you sir?"
"No that'll be alright. We'll take 'em. I want a box each of fifty round clips and sixteens." Frogleberg inspected the weapon some more and then turned his attention to the next matter.
"I want some assault rifles, perhaps some AKs? Maybe some standard Israelis too."
"You mean some Desert Eagles?" said the gunsmith.
Frogleberg nodded his head. "And we'll need some stun grenades. What have you got in the way of small decoys and smoke bombs? Got anything we can carry in our pockets and not be too bulky?"
A smile beamed across the gunsmith's face. "Check these out. Err if you don't mind me saying sir. This is in house. I designed them myself."
He unlocked another locker. and pulled out a box. "Check these little puppies out." He pulled out a small silver cigarette lighter. "Here's your percussion grenade. Small enough for you? And down here..." He handed the box to Frogleberg and bent down to retrieve a box from a lower shelf inside the locker. "Down here we have your smoke bombs." He pulled a small white plastic circular object. Like a thick plastic coin.
"Sorry we couldn't disguise that one yet but they're pretty small and effective. You just throw one on the ground and stomp on them. You just need to break them open. Between five and ten seconds later they ignite. ten or fifteen seconds after that you've got a room full of smoke. Err, depending on how big the room is of course."
Frogleberg tossed it round in his hand a little as if to get the feel of it's aerodynamics.
"Err please don't do it in here, sir," said the gunsmith in a tone that betrayed his concern. Frogleberg laughed.
"Only the fire crews get really pissed off when that happens."
Frogleberg could see from the gunsmith's expression that this had happened at least once before.
"Ok then we'll take a box of these suckers. Some of those grenades the rifles and the SPs. Better load up a kit of standard alien killers as well. Not the heavy stuff just the close quarters kinda thing. The Israelis. Oh and you'd better give me some conventional concealable twenty twos. If you could get 'em out onto loading bay two sometime in the next half hour it would be good."
The gunsmith nodded and pulled out a small organizer, upon which he started making notes. "Righty ho Sir. Loading bay two it is."
"Thanks," said Frogleberg and stepped towards the door. Where upon he turned back to the gunsmith. "Oh and umm. Do you may as well throw a couple of launchers in with that lot as well? Thanks."
"Toasters? Yeah, no problem. Would you like fries with that?" said the gunsmith now punching away again at his organizer.
Frogleberg laughed. "Yeah better throw in some fries. Enough for a few chip butties and some marshmallows could be useful too. You never can be too careful," said Frogleberg, who smiled and left the room.
* * *
Next he had an appointment with Colonel Ford in the comms lab. As he approached the communications lab he caught Keith Ford exiting.
"I was just coming to look for you," said Ford. "I heard you wanted to see me."
"Yeah that's right," said Frogleberg. "I need to borrow one of your boys to ride shotgun in the back of an air plane."
"Going on a field trip are we?" said Ford in an unusually excited manner.
"Uh yes, we are," said Frogleberg, slightly confused about Ford's slight excitement.
Ford turned and immediately back to the door of the communications lab.
"I got just the man. And I've got something else we've been dying to try out." Ford rushed back into the comms lab and shouted. "Anthony, Where 'n' hell are you. We've got a gig for you." At the far end of the communications laboratory, a head raised up from behind the glass wall of an office. The head of Anthony Appleyard. He was sitting at a desk facing out, soldering iron in hand and wearing a headband with a pair of magnifying glasses attached to it. He placed the soldering iron back in its holder and slowly rose from his seat, not entirely sure that he was wanted or not. His expression clearly stating. "Do you want me?" He stepped from the office where he was working and out into the main room. He met Ford and Frogleberg half way.
"Colonel Frogleberg, This is Captain Anthony Appleyard. He's a whiz with electronics and communications. We've been working on a little package that is ready for a field trial and this is a perfect opportunity." Appleyard extended his hand and shook hands with Frogleberg.
"Yes, I've seen you around, Anthony," said Frogleberg. "Usually behind something with bits and pieces hanging out of it up in the command centre but I've seen you before."
Appleyard just smiled.
"Anthony, you're going on a field trip," said Ford. "Tell Colonel Frogleberg about the G pack."
Appleyard smiled and became animate. He walked away from Frogleberg and Ford and expected them to follow him. Looking over his shoulder to see that they were as he reached a bench with a high back on it. As Frogleberg rounded the back of the bench he could see that sitting on it was a control panel. It looked like an elongated or stretched lap-top. About the same width as four lap-tops with three large LCD screens. There were buttons and joy sticks where the keyboard should have been and sitting next to it was a computer keyboard and another LCD monitor. It was inanimate and dark. Appleyard reached down to a tower box underneath the bench. A housing for some electronics. He hit a button on the front of it and the whole set up sprang to life. Frogleberg noticed a number of other computer like boxes also under the bench.
"This is only set up as a test rig," said Appleyard. "But we have two prototype systems ready to go out into the field. Normally we'd have a large transceiver box as well but in here we just use the test rig."
Frogleberg was still in the dark. He let Appleyard continue in the hope that he could pick up the thread. Appleyard stepped to another bench behind the bench holding up the consols. He pulled down a silver flight case from above it and placed it on that bench. He opened the flight case and pulled out some instruments. He handed Frogleberg a small box with a belt clip. As Frogleberg accepted it in his hand he noticed it was a small portable CD player. He was puzzled but saw that Ford was smiling at the proceedings so He just accepted the toy. Without speaking, Appleyard gestured that he should strap it on. Then he pulled out what looked to be a small suppository microphone. Then another and yet another. Each one was a small black cylinder about four centimetres long and one centimetre in diameter. There was a small alligator clip designed to fit onto one's clothing. Handing them to Frogleberg he said: "Here. Clip these on somewhere. One on the front. One on the back of you and put the last one almost any place you want." Finally Appleyard pulled out a pair of sun-glasses.
"We have a normal framed version of these as well and we could make a prescription lens if need be. But these one's are sunnies." He offered them to Frogleberg and waited till he had clipped the last cylinder on and could accept it.
"There are a few other bits and pieces but this is the main stuff."
Frogleberg placed the sunglasses on his face. The room suddenly became darker.
"Now what?" said Frogleberg with a slightly excited smile as the tension mounted.
"Oh I almost forgot," said Appleyard. "Stick this fish in your ear." He retrieved a flesh tone coloured ear plug from the flight case.
"Now, go for a walk somewhere," said Appleyard.
"What?" said Frogleberg in surprise.
"I mean go for a walk around the base for a bit."
Ford nodded with a knowing smile.
Frogleberg shrugged his shoulders and strode off. leaving the communications lab and off down one of the corridors. He heard a slight tweak sound in his ear. Then a bleep. He was approaching a tee junction when a voice in his ear said: "Stop. We don't know what's round that corner."
Frogleberg was slightly surprised but he complied.
"Now take that clip off your sleeve where you've got it clipped and poke the end of it round the corner. Don't let anyone on the other side see it."
Frogleberg was getting the idea. He complied and poked the end of it round the corner, holding it against the wall.
"Ok there's a couple of women up ahead. Guards or technicians. I can't tell which. Hold on. Hold it very still and I'll do a closer scan. Oh! Would you like to see for yourself?"
Suddenly there was a picture before Frogleberg's eyes. A colour television screen off in the distance. The view was impossible but he guessed it was somehow projected inside his glasses. Then next to that a transparent data display appeared. Once Frogleberg focused he could see that it was a picture of the two female SHADO operatives. The picture zoomed in and he could see that they were indeed guards. They were wearing weapon holsters. The picture zoomed again to a two-shot of their faces as they talked.
"Let me see if I can scan what they're saying," came Appleyard's voice in the ear piece.
There was a screech followed by a tweak sound in Frogleberg's ear. He jumped and scuffled. As he moved the clip against the wall where he was holding it, there were more noises in his ear. The picture on his personal display showed some part of the corridor's structure.
"No No no. Hold it still no matter what," came the voice in his ear again.
"I am holding it still," said Frogleberg softly. The picture zoomed out and in again onto the guard's faces. Now he could hear them talking. One was looking in his direction.
"Did you hear something?" she said.
The other one turned to look. "I'm not sure" Then they both noticed the strange shadow faintly on the floor from Frogleberg's form.
"There's someone there," said the first guard and she began to move in his direction.
"They've clocked you," said Appleyard. "Run and I'll try and guide you." Frogleberg took off down the corridor trying to make sense of the images in front of his eyes.
"Take the next left," said the voice in his ear. He took the next left and ran down the empty corridor. He ran past a door.
"Back up," said the voice. "What's in that door?" Frogleberg didn't know but he wasted no time in finding out. He made a bee line for it.
"Put the telemetry clip somewhere so I can monitor the corridor," said the voice as Frogleberg opened the door. He looked for somewhere. There wasn't much cover. Then he saw the lock of the door. There was just enough surface to clip it on and just enough time to slip inside. It was dark but suddenly Frogleberg could see down the corridor.
His head felt like it was being twisted off his neck as the camera rotated upside down, then twisted so it could see back in the opposite direction. Two guards appeared at the other end of the corridor and they split up. One came down the corridor towards the door. The other ran on. Frogleberg saw the guard run past. The camera flipped over again just in time to see her back track with her gun drawn. Her hand loomed large as it reached for the door handle. Seemingly not to notice the clip. The door opened suddenly in front of Frogleberg and he was faced with a very efficient guard.
"Probably ready to blow my head off" thought Frogleberg.
"It's me," he said. "We were just testing you."
But she apparently couldn't see him properly. "Step out or I'll blow your head off," came the officious voice.
"I was right," said Frogleberg as he stepped forward into the light. The guard lowered her weapon and sighed.
"I hope this works better than this out in the field," said Frogleberg apparently into thin air. Then she saw him turn and pick the clip back off the door lock. He turned to the guard now and said.
"Thanks. You've been most helpful." The guard didn't have a clue what he was talking about but she knew better than to argue with her superiors. As she walked to the end of the corridor with him she realized he must have been talking to someone else on a radio link of some kind.
"How did you manage to listen in like that? It wasn't a conventional microphone was it?"
"No it wasn't," said Appleyard. "It's an ultrasonic holographic microphone. It picks up high frequency interference patterns and down converts them into audio. It uses a tiny emitter array which is focused along the same line as the camera. The beauty of ultrasonics is that you can make the sensors absolutely tiny."
Frogleberg butted in. "Ok Ok I get the idea. It's a cool device right." He laughed and returned to the Comms Lab.
There was a mess in Philip's hotel room. Various empty bottles of alcoholic substances, packets of crisps and peanuts, CDs, dead flowers and a racoon hat. Philip wondered where the hat had come from. His head hurt from too much booze. An unhealthy thing to do whilst still having zonk in once's system. A situation not helped much by various bodies strewn around the room. Snoring and grunting in their sleep.
"I'm really disappointed in you, Philip," came a female voice from within his bedroom. "Come on. she'll never know."
As much as Philip may have wanted to sleep with this woman, and she was incredibly beautiful, he couldn't help thinking of his wife and daughter back home. He had often wondered what he would do in this situation on the road. But now between thoughts of his family, the zonk, the booze and a desire not to catch something nasty off a woman he'd only met a few hours before, he had no desire to get laid. He'd encountered a few groupies in his time but never anyone as desperate to screw him as this rather crazy, out of her skull, woman was. For some reason the roadie and his two female companions had migrated from the couch too the floor. Philip flopped onto it and within seconds he was asleep.
* * *
He woke up with a jolt. There was something on him. It was warm. What ever it was it had its arm round him and was breathing on his chest. He opened one eye and immediately closed it again. He didn't want to see any more. It was the woman from his bedroom. The sixth woman had gone back to Psylem's hotel with him. This meant that Philip only had to deal with one of the two unspoken for women. But it also meant there was no one left to help him defend his virtues. He opened his eye again, then another eye and he looked round. He couldn't see anyone else. Not a roadie. Not a manager. None of the girls they had been screwing. Just himself and this nameless woman. He would have shifted her from him immediately but she was warm and the room was cold. Eventually the urge to urinate built up inside him. He would have to shift her and get cold. She moaned.
"Sorry but I need to take a piss." He pushed her from him. Neither gently nor violently. Just indifferently. She said nothing as he slowly jacked himself up from the couch and headed for the toilet. As he fumbled at the fly in his boxer shorts he heard music emanating from the CD player. It was the Stalk CD. No-one had touched it all morning and yet this woman chose now to play it.
"I wouldn't have picked you as a Stalk man," she said upon his return.
"Do you like Stalk?" said Philip.
"Well I wouldn't say I was a big fan but they're alright. I'm more into the music you make. I've got all of your CDs you know."
"Yeah I know. You told me last night." He paused. "About fifty times."
"Tell me something," said the woman in her sweetest voice. "Why is it that you're a successful musician and yet you still work for a phone company?"
"We gotta eat," he said as he looked for his jeans. "I mean I make some money out of the music. It's enough to buy the gear and maintain my little studio but it's not going to last for ever." He found his jeans in the bedroom where they had been cajoled from him a few hours ago.
"So do you take time of work to come up here and play or something?" She had followed him into the bedroom and was watching him dress.
"What is your name by the way?" asked Philip by way of reply.
"My name is. Well you couldn't pronounce my name so just call me Jenny."
"Well, Jenny. I get five weeks holiday a year. I take two with the family and the other three I spread out for doing gigs. But I'm pretty flexible. Are you coming to the gig tomorrow Jenny?"
"I wouldn't miss it," she said. "What with you and AEK playing. It's gonna be a great show. I can hardly wait. I just wish I could have fucked you." Philip paused doing up his shoe lace. He straightened up to look at her.
"Right now Jenny. I'm fucked enough for both of us." It was the first time she'd seen him cast a warm smile in her direction all morning.
* * *
Jenny and Philip left the lobby of the hotel together though they had planned to leave in separate directions once they hit the street. They had planned to meet up later. Not because Philip felt any more attracted to her but rather, because he felt sorry for her. Plus it stroked his ego. He had met the odd groupie before but somehow Jenny was different. He felt it just might make her day if she could hang out with him. And that was OK. For now though, he had to get some serious smoodging in. Putting in an appearance at a record shop and a radio interview.
As the pair left the lobby of the Borg hotel, Jenny turned right and Philip turned left. Philip took ten paces and realized he was going in the wrong direction. Perhaps he needed a guide after all. He turned back in Jenny's direction and as he passed the hotel entrance again, he noticed two black suited gentlemen dart back but not totally out of sight. He smiled. He thought about saying hello to them but decided he couldn't be bothered. He wanted to catch up with Jenny before she got out of range. He picked up and started running. A few moments later he caught up.
"Hello again," he said touching her on the shoulder. She had already sensed his return.
"Er, hi," she said slightly surprised to see him by her side so soon. Philip was now slightly looking back at her and happened to glance further back down the street and notice the black suits looking obviously after him. He did is best to pretend they weren't there.
"Listen. I'd like to hire a guide to Reykjavik. Do you know anyone?" He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "I can't afford to pay them too much but I need someone who can show me around and stuff."
She looked at him and smiled. "I might. I might know just the person. In fact I know a person who would do that for the price of dinner." She raised her eyebrows at him and there was no doubt she meant herself.
"Err there's one small problem," said Philip. "Let me put something to you hypothetically. Suppose you were being followed?"
"Yeaass," she said and began to look round.
"No no. Don't look back. Just keep walking."
Jenny complied.
"Suppose you were being followed by a couple of ugly looking morons in black suits and you wanted to lose them. Both you and the gorillas are on foot and you had places to go and things to do. So you wanted to loose them fast. How would you go about that in Reykjavik?"
She rubbed her chin for a moment as they walked along. "Mmmm. Could be tricky. Just keep walking up here for a bit."
They kept walking in silence. They seemed to walk for ages. Philip hoped the black suits were not gaining on them but he dare not look round. Jenny ran her hand down his arm till it reached his hand then picked it up and held it. She smiled at him but against his better judgement he held onto her's. He was looking the other way when suddenly he felt Jenny tug at his arm. He couldn't resist the force and soon found himself running after her across the street, into a clothing boutique where upon they slowed down as if hey were browsing.
"What are we doing here?" he said, slightly confused. If she had a plan he was not a party to it.
"Trust me," she said and with that she dragged him to the back of the shop. They rounded a corner by some lingerie on pegs and he noticed light streaming in from a rear entrance to the store. she held up a pair of lace bikini pants to show him.
"I think you'd look great in a pair of these," she said. She let them flop back on the rack. Then once again her grip tightened around his hand and they were through the rear door. Running down an alley way. They came to the entrance to a shopping mall and she guided him into it. there was a passport photo machine on the corner and she pushed him into it. He crashed on the wooden seat out of breath. She was giggling and it was contagious. She drew the curtains and it became dark inside. They had not put any money in the machine so it had not sprung to life. She opened a slit in the curtains so that she could see. Philip lent over her so that he too could see. A few moments later he saw the two black suits run past the entry to the mall. Then one of the black suits walked back into the mall. He took ten or so paces into it and looked straight past them hiding in the photo booth. he turned and ran back to his partner who was now waiting at the entrance. They ran off in the direction they were originally heading and disappeared.
* * *
"Nice work," said Philip. Jenny said nothing as she threw her arms around him and kissed him. First lightly and then passionately. She embraced him. More like a bear hug than an embrace. At first Philip didn't put up any resistance and Jenny thought she had finally found a chink in his armour. At first Philip thought it was something of a reward and then for a moment he thought it was very nice and lost himself. Then his sensibility returned and he pressed himself away from her. Still holding each other, Philip looked at her. What he could see of her in the dark. Then he rose slightly which Jenny recognised as the cue to exit the booth. They walked in silence to the mall entrance and looked in the direction that the black suits had taken off in. Then without another word walked off. Back in the direction from whence they came. They didn't say another word until they knew they were well clear of the black suits.
"So where is it you need to go?" said Jenny.
Onboard the SHADO owned Lear X business jet were four people as well as the pilot and co-pilot. Bjorn Frogleberg, Anthony Appleyard and two field operatives. The Russian born Vladimir Redenkov and an African American called George Jackson. Jackson had a pair of sun-glasses on and seemed to be chasing a non-existent fly as he watched the picture that Appleyard was displaying for him. The tiny video projectors in his glasses, showing him a view from one of the clips. Appleyard was sitting at his consoles hastily set up near the rear of the cabin. Some of his gear strewn across some of the otherwise empty seats. There were a few flight cases containing other miscellaneous gear. The weapons and ammunition stowed behind some secret panelling where it would be hard to find unless someone knew it was there.
"So you sure you can get this thing set up in time?" said Redenkov to Appleyard. "You gotta get your aerials up somehow."
"Yeah it could take a couple of hours but with any luck it'll just look like I'm doing routine maintenance on the plane," answered Appleyard. "In any case you've really got to look at this as just a field trial. This system has never been tested."
Jackson removed the glasses and reoriented his vision.
"Man that'll take some gettin' use to but it's cool," he said. "Say, what about customs. How are we supposed to deal with that?"
Frogleberg took over. "With any luck it won't be too difficult. They're not interested in the plane. Only in those who come off it. But I'm told that once you've been cleared by customs off a private jet they don't really care too much after that. So it should be a simple matter of parking, going though the routine and we can come back later for the weapons."
As he was speaking he reached to the side of him for a silver brief case. He put it on his lap and opened it. From within, he retrieved three PDA computer message pads packed in the foam. There were eight in the brief case altogether. A standard issue field information pack.
Realizing what Frogleberg was doing, Appleyard stepped forward to take them from him. As he did he said: "We don't have personal remote controls for this system yet so you'll have to rely on the standard information systems. I'll upload all the data for you now. But in the future we hope to have all this linked in as well. I will be able to update your data cells from here remotely. For now though we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way." He took the PDAs back to one of the consols and placed them on it whilst he retrieved a cable from one of his flight cases. He plugged one end of the cable into one of the PDAs and the other into one of the consoles. He proceeded to upload the data to the first PDA.
"What's our ETA?" asked Redenkov
"We'll be another four hours or there about," said Appleyard as he busied himself with the next PDA. "We should be there about ten PM Reykjavik time."
Jenny and Philip had run all over town that day and now they were eating a meal at the Perlan. One of the, if not the, best restaurant in Reykjavik. They had had a lot of fun together and Philip had found her to be immensely useful, well beyond his expectations. They had taken lunch in a cafe which was more Philip's style but that evening he felt he owed her more. He had asked her what the worst restaurant in town was and she told him straight away. Then he asked her what the best restaurant was and she had to think about it. She had never been to any of them. She said she wasn't dressed for anything fancy but Philip insisted. He called Psylem on his mobile phone and arranged to have dinner with him at a fancy restaurant which Psylem had chosen. Philip could never work out how Psylem could work these things out when he'd only been in the place a few days.
Philip couldn't even pronounce the names of most of the people he had met that day. But Jenny said she knew where the Perlan was and that it meant 'pearl'. That was good enough for Philip. Jenny had insisted she change and caught a cab home to do so. Meeting Philip back at his hotel with enough time to take a leisurely stroll up to the restaurant by seven PM. If Philip found it hard to resist her charms before, what she was wearing now would seriously test his resolve. A very short black evening dress with a short jacket and small matching handbag. He wondered if she was cold but he thought with a body as hot as that, she must be toasted all the way through.
So the three of them were enjoying a wonderful meal in a wonderful setting with wonderful company. The Perlan was a rotating restaurant build abreast of what were once water towers. Rotating 360 degrees ever 60 minutes and offering spectacular views of Reykjavik. Psylem was uncharacteristically alone.
"Where's that woman you were with last night?" asked Philip of Psylem.
"Oh you mean Bee Jerka or however you say it."
Jenny put her hand over her mouth and sniggered.
"Nar she was weird. She talked about heaps of stuff and then suddenly wanted to leave. She was your friend, wasn't she Jenny?"
Jenny almost spat out her soup. "No. Well Yeah sort of. I mean I know her but we aren't really friends or anything. We just happen to be in the night club and got caught up with Albert and that other guy. I just wanted to meet Philip." She looked at Philip with loving eyes across the table.
"Who's been a naughty boy then? Hey Philip," said Psylem with a knowing grin.
"Now look it's not like that Ok. I just hired her as a guide."
"A guide hey? Is that what they're calling it these days?" He raised his eyebrows and widened his grin from the knowing to the down right cheesy.
"Don't worry Phil ma' boy. Your secret's safe with me." He winked at Jenny.
"Look we didn't do anything Ok so just shut up about it," stressed Philip after a failed attempted to be diplomatic.
"What about in the photo-booth Philip?" said Jenny with a tell-tale smile.
Psylem let out a laugh uncontrollably. "You did it in a photo-booth? You sly ol' bugger. Why didn't you use your hotel room like everyone else?"
Philip buried his face in his hands. Jenny and Psylem were now laughing at him and Philip felt guilty at even having kissed her. He resolved not to let it get even close again but he realized he may have come too far already.
Twenty past nine Reykjavik time. The Lear X business jet touched down at Reykjavik airport. It taxied to the prearranged private tie down site and shut down. By quarter to ten, the Icelandic customs officials had done their work, clocking the team as some record producers talent scouting for a major record company. When customs asked what was aboard the plane they said it was a video edit suite and it would not be leaving the aircraft. That part at least was true. The fact that they didn't have any video cameras with them was lost on the customs officials who took in only cursory details to make sure there were no drugs involved. There were none and they were happy.
The team returned to the plane and by ten pm they were ready to roll. Frogleberg had sent Jackson to the airport lounge to find all the local publications that might give them a clue as to how to connect with Philip Salisman's movements. Redenkov had headphones on and was sweeping the local radio stations for any related information. Meanwhile, Appleyard made busy rigging the plane with the special aerial and receiving equipment necessary for long range comms with the personal telemetry arrays. Frogleberg himself was busy sorting out the equipment they would take on their first sortie into town, glasses, clips, and telemetry packs. He checked that all the batteries were charged and that they had a spare set each. He decided that there was no need to take hand weapons with them on their first outing but he sorted out one cigarette lighter grenade and 3 decoy smoke bombs each. Small and easy to conceal. Last on the list were three GSM digital mobile phones. Specially adapted with some advanced features. These wouldn't be necessary but for the fact that it would take Appleyard upward of two more hours to retrofit the communications equipment to the Lear X. If nothing else they would provide good cover so that passers by wouldn't think they were talking to themselves.
It was nearing eleven PM. The only reference Redenkov tuned in on was a reference to Salisman playing at the main festival gig tomorrow night along with a dozen other head line acts. One of the street magazines was more forth coming Philip Salisman would be doing a gig at a night club called Loftleidir, starting at midnight. They set out just after eleven and walked to the taxi rank to connect with a cab.
"I can't believe those two were too stupid to loose the trail like that," said Jackson. "How long did it take us to work it out? Ten minutes, once we got the papers."
"How did we come to get two morons like that anyway?" said Redenkov.
"It's a long story. remind me to tell you some time," said Frogleberg. "As soon as we get on trail we'll tell Petrov and Snypes to piss off back to headquarters and report for a lobotomy."
They were laughing as they rounded the corner of the Leifsstod terminal building and found the taxi rank. The taxi they had ordered had not yet arrived. There were no scheduled flights at this time and with all the people in town that week, cabs were a little thin on the ground. They had changed their clothes to blend in, looking like Hyped dudes. Just the kind of people you'd expect to be record producers out on the town and looking for new acts. Frogleberg was looking at his watch for the tenth time when he noticed a Mercedes Benz winding its way through the access road toward the terminal building. Its illuminated taxi sign becoming obvious as the cab drew near.
"Frogleberg?" shouted the taxi driver at them.
"Yeah that's us" shouted Frogleberg back at him. They jumped aboard as quickly as they could.
"The Loftleidir club please," said Frogleberg. The driver nodded and they were off. It would take them nearly 40 minutes to make the journey from Keflavik to the heart of Reykjavik.
Philip and his roadies were rolling his gear onto the stage platform when the SHADO team arrived. Jenny was sitting at the bar but they neither noticed her nor she them. They blended in.
"Mingle." Frogleberg had said upon their arrival. In spite of this, the three men headed straight for the bar together. It seemed like the natural thing to do. They ordered their drinks and sat on three available bar stools. Staring aimlessly into the crowd hoping they didn't look too conspicuous. The crowd it self was doing as most crowds do. Couples and groups. Friends and lovers. A DJ was spinning dance tracks and a few people were on the dance-floor. Most likely zonked out. Jackson was beginning to get into the scene. For a moment he forgot who he was and why he was there. He pulled himself back into line when he noticed Redenkov staring at him quizzically.
"No that's alrigh,." shouted Frogleberg over the noise. "Go for it. Get into to it and blend in. But don't forget why we're here." Redenkov was the one who was feeling out of place. He didn't know how to get into it. This wasn't his scene. But Jackson did. He downed his Beam, slammed the glass down on the bar and was off to join the dancing crowd on the dance floor.
"Go on," gestured Frogleberg to Redenkov, but if that was an order, it was one order that Redenkov was not trained to follow.
Jackson was still out on the dance floor. Redenkov and Frogleberg had another drink as it approached midnight. The last dance track ended and someone moved onto the stage. It was not Philip. It was a male with a thick Icelandic accent.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Please put your hands together for Philip Salisman."
The light's dimmed and the crowd seethed toward the stage and the dance floor. Suddenly there seemed to be twice as many people in the room. Jackson was caught up in the crush but didn't mind. He was up front to see Salisman. He'd had heard his music and he was quite popular in the underground techno movement but Jackson had never seen him live. This was an opportunity to enjoy the gig and do his job at the same time. And maybe if the opportunity arose he would be able to talk to him about his music. Jackson wasn't especially a fan of Salisman's but he was a fan of the underground techno movement as a whole. And Salisman was held in high regard.
Jackson forgot his job for a moment as the first electronic tones struck out. A base line with a filter sweep sequence running over the top. From somewhere in the lighting rig above, a pair of lasers struck out in time with the music. The only light to penetrate the darkened night club. Smoke was rising from behind the artist and the laser was cutting patterns through it. Some flashing strobes and now Jackson could see Philip swaying with the rhythm. Jackson was caught up with the crowd as they cheered. Suddenly he remembered why he was there and calmed down somewhat. He symbolically looked around to see if his boss was looking.
His boss, on the other hand was still sitting at the bar, engaged in a shouting match with two women. Women who couldn't understand why he and Redenkov were still sitting at the bar.
"You should be out there," said the first shouting woman whilst her partner nodded her head. Both were clearly interested in the pair and were hoping they could encourage them to join them on the dance floor. They had been eying up the SHADO men for some time before they finally decided to do something about it. By which time Philip's show was about to begin. Frogleberg lent in towards Redenkov and shouted. "What is it with these Icelandic women?"
"What?" shouted Redenkov back just making himself audible above the quadraphonic sound system.
"I said. What is it with these Icelandic women?" repeated Frogleberg.
Redenkov just smiled. There was a pause in the dialogue as Frogleberg and Redenkov pretended to be into the music but the women could see they were staring off into space. One of the shouting woman moved in and shouted at her friend.
"These guys need something to get them into it," her friend nodded. They moved to the bar at once side of the pair and ordered another drink each. The shouting woman an alcoholic cola and the not-so shouting woman a Comfort and Coke. They paid for their drinks and stood in front of the two SHADO men. They took a sip of their respective drinks and held them out to the two men. Frogleberg and Redenkov both had obvious expressions of not understanding why they were being offered their drinks.
"It's an old Icelandic tradition," said the Shouting Woman. "We offer you our drinks and you offer us yours. You wouldn't want to break the tradition now would you?"
Frogleberg looked at Redenkov and shrugged his shoulders. He picked up his own drink from the bar and gestured to Redenkov to do the same. With an out stretched arm and Redenkov more reluctantly, the pair offered the girls their half empty glasses. The girls accepted and offered their almost full glasses in return. The girls downed the drinks offered them and raised their eyebrows to the men in a gesture to do the same. They complied. Frogleberg first followed by Redenkov after taking his cue from his boss. The girls put their glasses on the bar behind the men. Becoming very close as they did so. They took the now empty glasses from the men and also placed them back on the bar. Quickly they grabbed the men's hands and dragged them to their feet.
"Come on," shouted the shouting woman. "Get up where it sounds good."
Frogleberg and Redenkov stood holding hands with the women through the first song which lasted about 15 minutes. When it ended, the crowd stopped its gyrating and melded into applause. Without too much of a break, Philip launched into his second piece. A slightly slower number with some more intricate syncopations. The crowed cheered as they picked up the movement again. A song called 'feather head' which everyone seemed to instantly recognise.
Frogleberg suddenly noticed how nice the lighting display was. The patterns on the rear projection screens were some how more interesting than he had noticed before. He looked across at Redenkov. He was holding the other woman's hand and staring straight at the stage unmoved. Frogleberg noticed his own woman's hand and how nice it felt. He looked at her in the eyes and she gave him a smile. The smile must have been contagious because he smiled back. Frogleberg's girl saw Redenkov's girl leading him off amongst the crowd. She decided to try the same. She tugged gently at Frogleberg's hand and somewhat to her surprise, Frogleberg complied. Not only did he comply but he was beginning to get into the spirit of the rave. Though tentative, he was beginning to sway with the music. The woman was pleased. This guy might turn out to be worth it after all. And he seemed a hell of a lot more interesting than the other guys she had met.
By the end of the third song at around 12:35 am, Frogleberg was right into it. The sound, the people and the colour. He had never met this woman before but he felt he had known her all his life. He was dancing with her and although she thought he was a bit weird, the dancing was becoming more and more intimate. In a movement during a relatively slow number the woman ran her hand down and then back up his thigh. It was like electricity to him. Wonderful electricity that left a trail of brightly colour sparks along his leg in slow motion. She moved in close with one hand around his waste. He couldn't contain himself and moved one of his own hands on to her behind. It felt like nothing he had felt before. Like a sponge cake he could almost taste. And then she kissed him. A sweeter kiss he had never experienced. She kissed him longer this time and he closed his eyes for a moment. And in that moment he felt he was both on a different planet and that its inhabitants were cheering him on.
Also in that moment Jackson happened to be passing him by in the crowd. At first Jackson didn't recognise his boss. Just another couple taken by the musical experience. Then he recognised the clothes. They were the same clothes that they had changed into in the aircraft. Still it didn't click. Still Jackson thought it a coincidence. But as the lovers came up for air and their lips parted company. Jackson could see the face of someone he knew.
Jackson laughed. Not that anyone could hear him over the music but he laughed. He nudged his boss slightly and gave him the "sly old dog" look. But the look he received in return was not what he expected. He expected his boss to rase his eyebrows. He expected his boss to suddenly snap back into character. He expected his boss to wave him off in a gesture that warned him to ignore it. Anything except the look he got. A blank look that said. "Do I know you?" And a strange smile. It was like he wasn't looking at his boss at all. Jackson couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't take his eyes off Frogleberg and bumped into someone else in the crowd. Jackson waved his hand at Frogleberg and noticed the woman's expression. An expression that read: "Hands off. You can't have him. He's mine."
Jackson was even more astonished. He looked back at Frogleberg who seemed to recognise him for a second than he turned back to his girl. Jackson still didn't know what was happening but he figured he'd better find Redenkov. The straight logical Russian would know what to do.
Redenkov wasn't hard to find. Standing with his own girl in the middle of the crowd, Staring straight at the stage and the light show. Seemingly zombified. The girl was hugging him from one side so that she too could see the stage. He had his arm around her and she was running her hand over his butt as they looked on. He noticed that the girl was swaying slightly with the music but the big Russian was rigid. Eyes wide open and staring straight ahead. Jackson finally made it too them and waved his hand in front of Redenkov's face. Redenkov moved his head slightly to try and see round Jackson's hand but that was the only life he got out of him.
"Hey fuck off pal," mouthed the girl at Jackson. Jackson gave her a brief glance and then returned his attention back to Redenkov. Once again he waved his hand in front of Redenkov's face. Redenkov shifted his gaze to look at Jackson. Jackson shouted: "Come on man. you've got to help me with Frogleberg."
But Redenkov just returned his gaze back to the stage and ignored him. Jackson threw up his hands in disgust and moved away. Back toward where he had last seen Frogleberg.
Frogleberg hadn't moved too far but moved he had. Still embracing the woman and dancing. Well not dancing as Jackson knew it but dancing of sorts. The music picked up and he saw the woman moving faster with the rest of the crowd. He noticed Frogleberg throwing his arms around wildly and the crowed parted slightly around him. Jackson approached him and tried to stop him making a fool of him self but the woman pushed him out the way. He looked at her and she had a look that said.
"Leave us alone pal." Then he felt a nudge from someone behind him. He turned to see a fairly tall guy throwing his arms around. Pretty soon the whole audience was throwing their arms around in a stylized version of Frogleberg's original movement. It was getting dangerous to be part of the crowd at that point. Unless you were moving exactly with the rhythm, one would have stood a better than even chance of being smacked about by anyone who came too close. Jackson decided to work his way clear. Not before checking on Redenkov. Whom he found was still standing there staring at the stage regardless. No one was around him though. He was too big for that so he wasn't being assaulted by anyone dancing. His woman was nowhere around him. Jackson found her over by the bar having just returned from the ladies room. He approached her and shouted: "What did you do to my pal?"
She looked at him quizzically at first. "Oh you mean the big Russian guy?" She began to smile the smile of the guilty. "Zonk," she shouted. "We put some in their drinks."
"What 'n' hell did you wanna go do a thing like that for?"
"They looked like they weren't having a good time."
Jackson raised his hand to rub his eyes. As if rubbing imaginary perspiration from his brow. "You idiot. Do you know what you've done? Redenkov doesn't even drink tea. We gotta get 'em out of here."
"Oh I don't know," said the girl. "Looks like he's having a good time in his own way." They looked across that the crowd to see Redenkov's large head and shoulders, largely motionless, with the crowd dancing like waves crashing around him.
The girl just shrugged her shoulders. He noticed she had one of Redenkov's clips. He retrieved it from her.
"Hey. Whatta ya think you're doing?" she said.
"Got anything else belonging to Redenkov?" Jackson spun her round quickly to make sure she didn't have his telemetry pack.
She didn't have it and she didn't object. "Say. I could go for a guy like you."
Jackson just raised his eyebrows. He looked out at the crowd as he moved off to find a quieter spot where he could use his mobile phone. He noticed the crowd were now making something of a bending movement and shaking their hands. No doubt another zonked out Frogleberg inspired movement. Sure enough Redenkov was still standing there. Staring at the stage.
"Hello Appleyard? It's me. Jackson. Something's happened. They got Zonked."
"They got what?" came the voice on the other end of the phone barley audible over the noise.
"They had their drinks spiked with zonk."
"What's zonk?"
Jackson rolled his eyes. He didn't have time to explain the finer points. "It's like the latest designer drug. It's a long story but I think we've got a problem. What are Harry and Dean doing?"
"They're forward getting some Kip. They wanna be on the ball in case they've gotta fly us somewhere."
"Ok. Tell them to look after the plane and get down here as fast as you can."
"What about Petrov and Snypes? They should be there somewhere by now."
"What?"
"Petrov and Snypes. They phoned in earlier. Said they found out where Salisman was going to be and were going to be there."
"That's all I need. Great!" Jackson rubbed his forehead as if it would somehow relieve his headache. "Look I think it's more important that you come down here in that case. Now I'm really worried. Look I need someone I can rely on, Ok."
"Yup I understand. I'm on it," said Appleyard.
"Oh and Anthony. Bring a brief case to stash the telemetry gear in. Redenkov almost lost his already."
"Roger that."
"Ok see ya when you land."
"Ok I'll be as quick as I can."
Jackson returned to the bar and hoped nothing else would go wrong. He ordered a mineral water and sipped it and tried to enjoy what was left of the music. He held one eye firmly on the crowd in the hope that he might spot any trouble before it started. He was glad that they hadn't brought any weapons with them. Then he remembered they had a grenade each. A panic attack swept over him but he calmed down quickly. He contemplated trying to retrieve them from their pockets but thought better of it. He thought someone might get the impression he was trying to rob them. Could get him into a very tricky situation. As un safe as the idea may be, he thought it better to try and ride it out. The Girl came and sat next to him again.
"So what's the deal with you guys anyway?"
"We're A&R for a sub label of D'hama records. Purple records."
"Yeah I've heard of you. I thought you only did main stream jive? Never thought of you as doing Zonk music."
"We wanna branch out. We were supposed to be here to think about poaching Philip from his little independent label."
The girl nodded. "So what's with the Russian guy?"
"Oh he's spoze to be our muscle but you seem to have turned his brain to mush."
"He's good though, isn't he?"
"What?" said Jackson.
"Philip. He's good."
"Yeah he's damn good. That's why we're here."
Jackson noticed Petrov and Snypes standing in the corner, arms folded and dark glasses. he considered going over to them and warning them off. He thought it could wait though. He'd wait till Anthony got there but he realized he now had two problems. To make sure Frogleberg and Redenkov got out safely and to make sure Petrov and Snypes didn't mess with Salisman.
"What a nightmare," he said.
"What?" said the girl.
"Nothing."
Jackson was starting to get into the show again at last. He had forgot about the problems and his duty for a while but it all rushed back to him. He looked at his watch. It was 1:35 am and Philip was into the last half hour of his set. The two black suits were still standing there with their arms folded. Philip was on stage making exaggerated hand movements. Usually the crowd would have reciprocated and part of the crowd did. But in an area around Frogleberg, the crowd seemed strangely undecided. Obviously Frogleberg was doing his own thing, in his own drugged out crazy world. The crowd didn't know who to follow. Redenkov, as usual was still staring, mesmerized at the stage. By chance Jackson looked over to the entrance and saw Appleyard coming through it. He was carrying a small metal brief case. Jackson waved and smiled at him to catch his attention. Appleyard waved back and started heading in his direction. Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson noticed a smoky stage effect. The lasers were beginning to cut though it over the crowd. He looked back to see where Appleyard was then did a double take. He realized the smoke wasn't rasing from the stage but was coming from somewhere among the crowd. Then he realized it was coming from an area where Frogleberg was.
"Shit!" Said Jackson. The girl heard him but didn't know what the fuss was. Jackson pointed at the crowd so that Appleyard could see what he was pointing at. Appleyard smiled and looked. Then the same though crossed his mind as did Jackson. "The smoke decoys."
Jackson hit the floor running. Appleyard jumped into gear. The two black suits stood their oblivious to what was unfolding. Which was fair enough since even the night club's bouncers were unaware of the danger. Philip was on stage looking at his stage crew, making questioning gestures at this unscheduled effect. The closest stage hand shrugged his shoulders. They had no clue as to what was happening either.
Jackson looked back to Appleyard just before he entered the main bulk of the audience. He pointed at Redenkov's position and gestured that Appleyard should get Redenkov. Appleyard understood even though he was not totally sure where Redenkov was.
Jackson entered the crowd and forced his way towards Frogleberg. Pushing his way past people still dancing. Unaware how close they were to a drugged up madman with a grenade. He reached Frogleberg only to find him dancing oblivious to what had happened. He saw the girl standing back out of the smoke. She had turned pale and was still holding one of the white plastic caps. Jackson realized that it was most likely the Girl who had found the caps in Frogleberg's pocket. Jackson grabbed Frogleberg and began to drag him out of the crowd. Frogleberg didn't put up any kind of fight. Jackson dived into Frogleberg's pockets looking for the little gold cigarette lighter that could be just a tiny bit dangerous. It wasn't in his left jacket pocket. It wasn't in his left trouser pocket. He grabbed Frogleberg with his other arm and searched his right pockets. He found it in his trouser pocket. and retrieved it. He attempted to place it in his own pocket but was bumped by another dancer. The cigarette lighter skidded across the floor. He let go of Frogleberg who immediately danced forward into the crowd again. Jackson located the lighter and dived for it, taking a blow to the head by a dancer's leg for his reward. He secured it in his own inside jacket pocket then returned to his feet looking for Frogleberg at the same time.
Frogleberg had almost returned to his original position. Jackson noticed the girl still standing with the white cap in her hand. He signalled her to hand it over. She did. Then he signaled her to help him with Frogleberg. She grabbed Frogleberg by the hand and led him almost willingly out of the crowd. The house bouncers were becoming interested in what was happening but when they saw the girl leading Frogleberg out they called off their hunt. Jackson beckoned the girl to bring Frogleberg to the bar. She did so.
"Now keep him here until I get back OK," shouted Jackson. She nodded.
Jackson strode back into the crowd to find Appleyard trying to coerce Redenkov to move. Redenkov seemed unaware of them. They each grabbed an arm and tried to swing him around but every time they would swing him and his eyes would leave the stage he'd shrug them off and turn back again. Finally in desperation, Jackson waved his hand in front of Redenkov's face. Redenkov blinked and looked down at him. He recognised Jackson's face. Suddenly Redenkov snapped out of it.
"Come on," gestured Jackson. Redenkov shrugged his shoulders slightly and seemed to be happy to follow Jackson like a lost puppy. They led Redenkov back to the bar.
"That's a shame," said Redenkov as if nothing had happened. "I was just enjoying that. What's Anthony doing here?"
"You don't know what's been happening then?" said Jackson.
"What do you mean? I was just looking at the light show for a few minutes." Jackson rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
"So you really don't have a clue then?" Redenkov looked at Jackson like he wasn't making sense. Redenkov looked at Frogleberg sitting at the bar smiling and holding hands with the girl.
"What's wrong with him?" said Redenkov.
"Oh never mind, I'll tell you later," said Jackson. "We gotta get you guys outta here." Jackson gestured to the brief case that Anthony some how managed to retain through all of this. Anthony put it on a bar stool and opened it. Jackson retrieved the telemetry gear from Frogleberg. He dumped it onto the brief case and Appleyard randomly spread it out to make room. Jackson dumped his own gear in there as well and gestured to Redenkov to do the same.
The girl was stroking Frogleberg's hair as he sat on the bar stool like a puppy being pampered. Redenkov recognised his girl but wondered what she meant when she said. "Are you alright now?"
He didn't answer. He just looked at her with an expression that said. "What 'n' hell are you talking about?"
Communication was becoming difficult as the gig rose to its crescendo. Philip was playing the last number. With everything settled, Jackson gestured that they move out. There was little point in trying to catch up with Salisman tonight. Salisman would probably just laugh at them anyway. Redenkov's girl shook her head and pointed toward Salisman on stage. She wanted to hear his gig to the end. Jackson agreed and settled for a little while longer. It might also give Frogleberg and Redenkov a chance to step back into reality a little. Philip brought the crowd to a fever pitch as his music hit the last 20 measures of music. The whole crowd seemed to be as one except for the disconnected Frogleberg who was now looking around from time to time. Jackson would have been impressed were it not for having a few things on his mind. The music finished and the crowd went wild.
"Thanks everyone. See you at the little rave thing we're having tomorrow night," said Philip, and with that he exited the stage. The crowd started stomping their feet in unison. The noise was almost as loud as the music had been. Jackson was ready to go but realized there would probably be an encore. He turned to notice Frogleberg push the girl's hands from him. He seemed unsure of his surroundings. Jackson moved in towards him.
"You've been zonked bro. Are you alright?"
"Yeah man. That was so cool. Did we get the aliens?" said Frogleberg.
"Now is not a good time," said Jackson. Jackson lent in further toward the girl.
"How much zonk did you give 'im?"
"Oh not much," said the girl. She looked at Frogleberg and then looked back at Jackson.
"Err well rather a lot actually. I thought that's what he wanted."
Jackson rolled his eyes in disgust. Philip Salisman returned to the stage amidst a wild applaud. Some people had started dancing even before the music struck up again. A sequence rang out over the top of the crowd and they quieted down ready to dance once more.
"Are you alright?" shouted Jackson face to face with Frogleberg.
"Do you know where you are?" Frogleberg nodded boyishly. He then put his hands in his pocket. Suddenly a wave of panic came over his face. He searched around in one pocket. Then another. Then he searched the pocket of his pants.
"It's alright. I've got it," said Jackson holding up one of the lighters. Upon which Frogleberg stopped searching and seemed somewhat relieved. The surge of adrenalin seemed to jolt him back to reality a little. They milled around at the end of the bar till once again Salisman brought the crowd to a head. Then suddenly the music died away to a sequence line and everyone knew it was over. Philip just waved and left the stage with the sequence fading out. The crowd instinctively knew it was over. So did Jackson.
"OK let's go. Are you ready to move?" he said to Frogleberg. Frogleberg nodded and slowly got to his feet. Still not quite sure where the zonk ended and reality began. He missed the woman's touch but tried to regain an air of professionalism. Even though he was still far from sure what that was. And as his mind started to regain control he was beginning to feel like he had spent the last few hours working in a chain gang. The six of them reached the door. Frogleberg, Redenkov, the two girls, Appleyard and Jackson bringing up the rear. Jackson saw them through the door and was about to exit himself when he noticed the two black suits from the corner of his eye.
"Shit!" He said then he called after the others. "I've just got to attend to something do you think you can manage without me for two minutes?" He didn't wait for an answer and dashed back inside. Making a bee line to Petrov and Snypes.
"You guys weren't thinking of making a grab for Salisman were you?" said Jackson. It took Petrov a second to focus and realize who Jackson was.
"Err no. Err we were just following him."
"Yeah well don't. We know where he's going to be and we'll take it from here OK. They want you back at HQ. But take your time. There's no hurry. And we want to speak to you first too. But leave Salisman alone OK. This is more delicate than you can imagine."
Petrov and Snypes seemed annoyed at this. "But we've been working on this all week."
"Yeah I know but now it's time to let it go, children. God has spoken and she's not very pleased."
"Yeah, so we lost him once. We found him again didn't we?"
Jackson wasn't about to argue the point. He saw red. "Look Petrov. I've had a bastard of a night. If you don't do what I say I'll blow your fucking head off right here and now. OK. You got that monkey boy?" Jackson knew he didn't have a weapon on him but he hoped that Petrov and Snypes didn't realize it. In any case he would not have actually shot them even if he had a gun and that was something he figured they probably could work out for themselves. Eventually at least.
"Now get the fuck outta that door and come with us. And keep the fuck quiet whilst your about it. And you can wipe that fucking smile off your face too Snypes." He realized he was yelling at the top of his voice. He was attracting attention. Two of the bouncers were taking an interest.
He grabbed Petrov and Snypes by the sleeves of their suits and spun them toward the door. He looked back at the two bouncers who couldn't work out what they were seeing. It was one of the weirdest things they had seen. To them it looked like some zonk head ordering two cops around and then ushering them out. With the cops complying like school boys. When they reached the door Jackson shoved the pair through it symbolically.
Once outside Petrov tried to gain an explanation. "What's going on? We're the same rank. You can't push us around."
"At the rate you're going we may not be of the same rank for long. Listen pal. we had some problems in there. Women problems you might say. I'm in charge now till the Colonel gets better so you better do what I say, OK? And I'm telling you to shut up, you go that?"
Petrov mumbled something and nodded.
"Good. Now we gotta work out what to do. We can't take these girls back to the plane and we need to get things straightened out. Follow me and shut up." Jackson strode off down the street to where the others had wandered ahead slightly.
Frogleberg's girl had his arm around him. Frogleberg didn't know if it was a good idea or not but considering the time he was having, thought it was probably better to at least keep up appearances.
"Right girls," said Jackson as he approached them. "Where can we go to get a coffee this time of the morning?"
Frogleberg's girl turned and said: "We could go back to my place. Mum wouldn't mind." Jackson thought about this. He looked at Petrov and Snypes. "You realize there are now eight of us?"
"Hmm," said the girl. "Who are those two?"
"Never mind who they are. I think we should find somewhere else though. Anything around here?"
They walked aimlessly for a while. Jackson thought he was following the girls when in fact the girls were following them. The girls were laughing and joking.
Frogleberg was still hallucinating slightly. He was coming to terms with what he had experienced. The embarrassment was over taking him. "Did I really do what I think I did?"
"Yes" came the unanimous reply.
"Man, you can dance like a MoFo when you wanna," said Jackson laughing. He thought he had better make the most of it. It may be the last time he ever got to laugh at his superior.
"So it was a fun evening then was it?" said Appleyard to Redenkov.
Redenkov just looked at him with eyes that begged him not to press any further with that line of questioning. Truth be known, Redenkov was still suffering slight hallucinations himself. But since he'd never experienced anything like this before his brain didn't know how to deal with it. If he felt sick he could understand it but he didn't. Actually he felt great. He just couldn't deal with feeling this great.
They walked on for some time till finally Jackson realized they were probably going nowhere.
"Look are you girls taking us to a coffee shop or what?"
Frogleberg's girl turned round and pointed to herself. "Who? Us? I thought you knew where you wanted to go."
Jackson slapped his forehead. "Look we need coffee. Something's gotta snap these guys out of it."
Frogleberg's girl turned back and stopped. "Like I said. My place is not far, we can have coffee there." She placed her hands on her hips and stared directly into Jackson's eyes.
Jackson shrugged and nodded."Yeah Ok. Ok." They took another few steps forward. This time more confident that at least someone knew where they were going. When suddenly Jackson said. "Wait. Look if you're taking us back to meet mummy, at least you could tell us your names."
Redenkov's girl laughed then turned to Redenkov who was towering over her. "You remember my name don't you. I told you often enough."
Redenkov looked at her and did his best impression of an Alzheimer patient. He had no clue.
For the first time she felt truly rejected. "Hu! I can remember your's" she said. "It's Valerie!"
Now it was Jackson's turn to burst out laughing. Then Appleyard. The two black suits looked at each other and wondered what they were laughing at. They thought they had better laugh too just to be on the safe side and let out a raucous and very pretentious laugh.
"Shut up," said Jackson abruptly but still laughing himself.
"I'm Gudrun," said Redenkov's girl
"And I'm Elva," said Frogleberg's girl. "And who the hell are those two?"
"Never mind about them," said Jackson. "Just tell them to shut up if they give you any trouble."
Frogleberg, Jackson and Redenkov had gratefully accepted the invitation to spend the night at Elva's house. Elva's mother, Helga, enjoyed talking to Jackson. It was a novel event to be talking to a black man with an American accent in her own living room. After having coffee, Jackson had sent Appleyard and the black suits back to the Lear X to get some sleep. He had a quick word with Appleyard on the porch before their taxi arrived.
He explained what he thought might be required later in the morning and to make sure the black suits didn't get any ideas of their own that might compromise their mission. He would call later when he could speak more freely. For now though the three of them were stranded without the aid of their telemetry equipment. Armed only with their mobile phones. Jackson was tired.
The girls had retired to elsewhere in the house with their respective catches. Jackson neither knew where nor could he care. It didn't matter till the drug had worn off. He learnt that Elva's father was away fishing. Fishing was the life blood of Reykjavik and that Elva was the heiress to a fishing dynasty. All very interesting but as he was falling uncontrollably asleep at the table Helga offered him the couch. He was relieved when it was only the couch and not her bed. As it had become with the other women.
The morning came and they said their farewells. They vowed to meet up again in the evening. The three SHADO men hoped they wouldn't.
As soon as they were free to speak Frogleberg did. "Look I'm really sorry about last night. I know I'm gonna get my ass kicked for it but I really didn't have a clue what I was doing."
"No that's fair enough," said Jackson. "Man I'd have done the same If I had had that much Zonk in me."
"So what's the plan?" said Frogleberg.
"You're asking me? You're the boss."
"Well I'm still not sure I'm straight from last night. Man that's some drug. And they say it's available legally." Frogleberg shook his head and smiled a cheeky grin.
"Yeah it's just a bunch of herbal medicines mixed together. Valerian and some other shit. It's rather nice really. Err, so they tell me."
"Yeah It is. I think we should include it for recreation back at HQ." The conversation about the hypothetical uses of zonk in SHADO continued for almost a block until Redenkov suddenly butted in.
"Like, dude," he said in his thick Russian accent. Both men turned to look at him. "Like don't you think we should be looking out for this Salisman dude and making sure nothing happens to him?"
Frogleberg's and Jackson's mouths were visibly wide open. Jackson said.
"What's with this dude shit? Valerie. Err I mean Vladimir?" Frogleberg nearly choked as he laughed.
Redenkov didn't even realize what he had just said. "So what about it? Shouldn't we be looking for him?"
"Yeah, I think you're right," said Frogleberg "But he's gonna be really hard to find now. Unless we can find him at his hotel or something?"
"What ever happens," said Jackson "We've gotta get a change of cloths and some gear."
* * *
Frogleberg had called ahead to the Lear X. Petrov and Snypes were ordered to change their cloths so they didn't stand out too much. Then they were to try and find Salisman. Not to do anything but just to follow and report in. They told Frogleberg about the girl Salisman was hanging around with. They told him how it gave Salisman an unfair advantage of local knowledge. Frogleberg wasn't too fazed by this as he knew that Appleyard could use his telemetry system to give them instantaneous street maps and the like. The taxi took them the 40 minute journey out of Reykjavik and back to the airport at Keflavik. Frogleberg paid with his credit card and they began their walk back to along the length of the Leifsstod terminal building.
"So how did we come to have idiots like Petrov and Snypes anyway?" asked Jackson.
"Well," said Frogleberg. "I can tell you it wasn't my idea, that's for sure. It dates all the way back to General Henderson. He insisted that SHADO have a division based on the FBI. Something about an elite group who could work undercover and largely separate from the main workings of SHADO. You know how the aliens like to take over and use people? We'll these guys were supposed to be able to detect it. They had to be a little removed from SHADO so that the aliens would have less of a chance of working out what was going on. But what it really was, was Henderson's impotence."
"What?" said Redenkov.
"No I mean he had control over SHADO from a financial point of view but he was always jealous of Commander Straker getting the real action. He always wanted that job for himself. So this gave him an opportunity to be in command of his own team."
"Man, I'm glad he never got Command of SHADO proper if they're anything to go by," said Jackson as they were approaching the Lear X.
"Oh they're not totally indicative of the civil intel branch." continued Frogleberg. "But they're certainly a symptom of it. When Henderson died the command was relinquished back to SHADO command. And for a time there was a vacuum left by Henderson so suddenly Commander Straker had to do both jobs. These guys became a bit of a legacy." Frogleberg was about to step on board.
"Don't be too harsh on them. I know we laugh at them a lot. They're not on the front line like we are but they do have unique skills. Petrov and Snypes are just two members of CI. The psychological profiles say we should split them up and get them to work with a couple of the others but no-one else wants to work with 'em." Jackson laughed. Redenkov just nodded in agreement. They climbed aboard the plane.
* * *
Twenty minutes later they were wired up and tooled up. They had a change of clothes and ready for action. They had all taken a dose of fast acting anti-oxidants from the small pharmacy onboard the Lear X. Jackson didn't need to but thought he would anyway. No harm in doing so.
"This time we're going to hire a car," said Frogleberg feeling very much back in control. There was a hire car firm with an office right at the airport. They had selected the appropriate identification and drivers licenses and acquired the car easily. It was a Mercedes Benz. None of them looked nor cared about the model. They jumped in and were away. Back past the Leifsstod terminal building and onto the 40 minute drive between Keflavik airport and Reykjavik. Jackson at the wheel. Frogleberg in the front passenger seat, retrieved his mobile phone from his inside jacket pocket. He dialled some numbers and Appleyard's voice came on the line.
"Any word from Petrov and Snypes yet?" said Frogleberg
"Yeah, apparently they saw him go back to his hotel. That Australian guy and the girl were with him but they saw them both leave a short time later and go their separate ways."
"Ok excellent," said Frogleberg. "We'll go straight there. Do we know which room he's in?"
"No not exactly. All we know is that he's on the second floor."
"No matter. We'll show them our police ID and they should spit it out. Ok thanks Anthony." And with that Frogleberg disconnected.
"Alright, it's straight to the hotel then."
* * *
Some 30 minutes later the car pulled up outside the Borg hotel, one of the oldest in Reykjavik and right in the heart of the city. Frogleberg and Redenkov stepped out of the car whilst Jackson found a place to park. Frogleberg put his brief case on the ground between his feet to wait for Jackson to return. Petrov, who had been waiting further down the street, stepped up to meet them.
"He's in two oh seven," he said without uttering a greeting.
"Good work," said Frogleberg. "How did you find that out?"
"We couldn't see the key rack but we got lucky. We overheard a delivery driver with a package for him. After he left the desk clerk asked the bell hop to deliver it to room two oh seven."
"That's great," said Frogleberg. "Where's Snypes?"
"He's in the lobby. I didn't want to stay in there with him and draw too much attention. As it is the desk clerk got suspicious so we had to flash our IDs. The Interpol ones. They left us alone after that but we thought Salisman might recognise us. In spite of our change of clothes." Frogleberg nodded. He pulled out his mobile phone and entered a key combination. He placed it to his ear and waited.
"Hello?" said Snypes's voice on the other end.
"Snypes. It's Frogleberg. Look we're coming in just as soon as Jackson gets back. I want you and Petrov to hold your positions. I'm not expecting anything but you never know. Once we've established that everything's OK you and Petrov can stand down. OK?"
"Yup," said Snypes.
"Ok Jackson's here now so we're coming in. Just make sure none of the staff follow us up."
"Yup," said Snypes again and then Frogleberg rang off.
"Ok is everyone ready?" said Frogleberg looking around him at the nodding faces. "OK then let's go in."
* * *
The three men entered the lobby lead by Frogleberg. Frogleberg and Jackson held up their Interpol IDs as they passed the desk clerk. She didn't quibble in the slightest. They went straight to the stairs and began to climb. At the second floor they looked around. Frogleberg pointed to a number five on a door and headed off down the corridor till he came to number seven. He stopped to check that they were all grouped. Meanwhile on the ground floor, the desk clerk had rounded her counter and appeared through a door. She approached Snypes who was lounging in the lobby with a news paper.
"You're not expecting any trouble are you?" she said.
"No ma'am I hope not," said Snypes.
"Only we don't want to alarm the other guests."
"That won't be a problem I'm sure." Snypes tried to smile a smile of reassurance.
It only made the woman more edgy. Finally she asked. "Who is it that you're after anyway?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, ma'am," said Snypes. She raised her eyebrows realizing that she'd probably asked too much already.
* * *
There was a knock on Philip's door. Then another. Philip was quite groggy from lack of sleep. He had only been asleep perhaps an hour when the knock came. After the third knock he began to crawl his way out of bed, through the main room and to the door. By the fifth knock he arrived.
"Alright alright. chill out," he mumbled. He opened the door and the site of the three men brought him awake suddenly.
"May we come in Mister Salisman?" said Frogleberg.
"Who are you?" said Philip.
"Oh I think you know who we are. Word gets around, Mister Salisman."
"Well, you're certainly not record company executives. Hey wait a minute. Aren't you that guy that was waving his arms around like all hell at the gig last night? Yeah you were right off your face. And come to think of it that smoke bomb came from you as well. Ha! Damnedest thing I ever did see." Philip was laughing at them now. Hope of Frogleberg maintaining a dominant composure was all but lost. Philip turned his back and retreated back into the room. The three followed him in and Jackson closed the door behind them.
"Look. We're hear because of what you know," said Frogleberg trying to maintain his composure.
"Oh so those FBI looking goons that were down stairs were your boys, where they?" said Philip.
"Well, yeah. In a manner of speaking. We'll get them off your back now but we got them in more for your own protection."
Philip was positively chuckling now. "My protection. Ha! Those guys are the ones who need protecting," said Philip as he sat down at the table and pealed a banana.
"Yeah well that as it may. We had to pull them off another job to get them here as soon as we could. They were not fully briefed. We've only just become aware of the threat you pose to our security."
Philip finished chewing on his mouth full of banana. "Which is why I've taken steps to guarantee my own safety from you. I'm not entirely sure what you're capable of but if anything happens to me then..."
Frogleberg cut him off. "Yes we know about your own security measures. So I take it that you can verify this in some way?"
"What do you mean?" said Philip "Verify my security or verify the fact that I have the skinny on you guys?"
"Well both really," said Frogleberg.
Salisman finished another mouth full of banana. "First of all, I don't have to verify shit with you guys. You can't take the chance. If I were to show my hand you'd probably blow if off so I'm not about to reveal how I've done it. Needless to say. If you guys fuck with me even just a tiny bit, a chain of events will go down that will see every piece of information I have on you guys become very public knowledge. Some of the people involved don't even know they're involved. Two of them don't even know me personally so you can't connect us. What I'm saying is. Don't fuck with me pal." Emphasizing the point by shaking his banana at them before taking yet another bite from it.
"Yeah that's Ok we're not here to fuck with you but we're need to know that the data you have on us is secure. We need to know that no-one else knows about this. And we need to know it's for real."
Philip thought about this for a moment whilst finishing off another mouthful of banana.
"Ok. Firstly. The data is as secure as I can make it. It's behind several layers of encryption. No-one else knows about it. Not even my wife." He paused for a moment realizing that he'd told at least six people something about it. Including a fairly detailed account to his Australian friend Psylem Lampoon. He hoped that these people wouldn't discover that for themselves at any stage.
"And if you want proof, I'll show it to you." Philip conveniently finished the last portion of his fruit as he rose to get the CD. He binned the banana skin and headed for his portable player. He turned to speak. "Oh and by the way, This is just a small sample of what I have."
He turned back and pressed eject on the portable CD player. The lid flew open but there was nothing in it. He thought he must have put it away in the jewel box but he didn't remember doing so. Which was unusual given the sensitive nature of the material. He located the CD jewel box but there was no CD in it. Now he panicked slightly. "It's gone."
"What's gone?" said Frogleberg.
"Ok I get it. You stole it but can't decrypt it. Nice try guys."
"Stole what?" said Frogleberg.
"The CD. The Stalk CD. You must have come up here whilst I was out and stole it."
"I can assure you Mister Salisman that this is the first time any of us have been here. We only just found out what room you were in a short while ago."
* * *
Philip eventually agreed to at least suspend disbelief that the SHADO men hadn't stolen the CD already. Simply in order that they could carry the conversation forward. But the fact remained that the CD was gone.
"Jenny was playing it yesterday and I didn't take it out of the player since then."
"Is Jenny that girl you've been seeing?" said Frogleberg.
"Don't get any ideas," said Philip defensively. "She's just a fan."
"And what was she doing playing the data CD anyway?" said Frogleberg surprised.
"It was encrypted into a Stalk CD. That's this crappy band called Stalk right?"
Frogleberg still didn't quite get it.
"I made a CD that looked for all intents and purposes like the real thing. Like a glass mastered CD. Only it was a particularly short CD so I used the extra space to encode the data. Just as much as I could fit. Which was quite a lot as it turned out. But nothing compared to what I've collected in total."
Jackson waded into the conversation. "If we didn't take it, and you haven't simply lost it somewhere, who else could have taken it. I mean no-one actually likes that stuff. So someone must have taken it specifically. Is anything else missing or out of place?"
Philip had a quick look around the room. Then the bedroom. He looked through his cases and through the wardrobe. "No nothing. everything's intact."
"So we can assume then that who ever took it, took it specifically. Either that or they really had a thing about crappy music." Philip laughed briefly.
"Ha! Anyway there's no real problem. It's all encrypted. There's very little chance of anyone breaking the encryption. Don't worry about it."
"Mister Salisman," started Frogleberg again. "I am still a little concerned. There are forces out there who would like to see SHADO exposed. Perhaps you underestimate the alien threat. And now you offer them a way to split SHADO wide open. All they have to do is kill you and what ever system you have in place will do the work for them."
A shiver when up Philip's spine. "Don't be stupid," said Philip. "Look Jenny's probably taken it. She was listening to it earlier on."
"Does she have a portable CD player?" said Jackson, now standing by the CD player and giving close scrutiny to the Stalk CD jewel box.
"Well no. Not that I'm aware."
"So why didn't she take the CD cover with her? Not many people just pocket the disk and forget the cover."
"Well it could have been Psylem, then. He hates Stalk and thought I was stupid to have a copy of it. He might have thrown it out the window as a joke or something?"
"I hope you're right Mister Salisman," said Frogleberg. "I hope you're right. For your sake as well as ours. But remember this my friend. We defend the planet from attack by aliens. Bonafide creatures form another world. You may well be sitting in the hot seat between mankind and the aliens. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now." And with that Frogleberg stood to leave. He pulled a card from his inside jacket pocket.
"If you need to call me, you can reach me at that number." He handed Philip the card and Philip read it. He laughed.
"Bjorn Frogleberg. A & R. Purple records? That's a good one."
* * *
It was 4:00 pm. Philip had tossed and turned in his bed trying to get some rest before the gig that night. He would be playing in front of at least twenty thousand people. Some people estimated the crowd would swell to twice that. This was a big festival by Icelandic standards. People had flown in to be a part of it from all around the world. Not only was Philip playing but his friend from Australia with his outfit AEK. As well as acts from Germany, the UK, America, Japan and a Russian techno act called Soyuz. There was a film being made of it and Philip wanted to be alert to do a good show. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Philip thought it was the SHADO people returning. Frogleberg's words of warning were still echoing through his head. As he reached the door he said.
"Who is it?" using his best means-business voice. Or as means-business as he could muster on the small amount of sleep he had that day.
"It's me," came the female voice. The voice of someone he recognised. The voice of Jenny. He opened the door rubbing his eyes.
"Are you alright?" she said. "You look like shit."
"Gee thanks," said Philip "I haven't had much sleep. Say did you borrow that Stalk CD by any chance?"
"Hell no," said Jenny. "I don't like that stuff very much."
Philip returned to his bed. It was all the energy he had left. He crawled into it and lay down. He kept his eyes open long enough to notice Jenny pull herself underneath the covers from the other side. This was the second time in a single day he had fallen asleep with his groupie sharing his bed.
* * *
Someone was shaking him. He looked at his bedside clock. It said it was 8:00 pm.
"Wake up Philip. Wake up," came the soft voice. "You're on at ten. If you don't get up now you'll miss the show."
Philip rolled over to see the ever smiling face of Jenny. He moaned a tired moan and stretched to try and wake his body up. She couldn't resist his muscular physique. She wrapped herself around him in a gentle bear hug. She knew he still wouldn't have mustered the energy to fight her off.
"God it's a shame you're married," she said. She sighed and then continued to hug and kiss him. It was enjoyable. At first Philip forgot where he was. Then all of a sudden the thought of missing the gig, the very thing he'd flown all the way up from Nova Scotia to do, and he pushed her off. He sat straight up in bed.
"The gig!" he said. Suddenly he was awake. She watched him kick off the covers revealing his naked body until he could wrap his dressing gown around himself. It fed his ego that his body could be such a commodity.
"I've got to have a shower."
"Mind if I join you?" said Jenny.
"We don't have time. Maybe later." His resolve was definitely slipping. If his grip became any more loose he would have some explaining to do. As it was, circumstances seemed to be holding his fidelity in tact for now at least. There was another knock at his door.
"Could you see who that is please?" he asked Jenny. "I need to get in that shower."
Jenny opened the door to find Philip's manager, Albert and Psylem standing behind him.
"You'll be late Philip ol' boy. No time for nookie now ol' son." He winked at Jenny as he came through the door. Psylem just smiled a friendly smile. She returned it. PhilipnNoticed Psylem.
"Hey Psy. You haven't' seen that Stalk CD have you? Only I was looking for it and it seems to be missing."
"No I haven't touched the damn thing," said Psylem.
"Wot you doin' with a Stalk CD Philip ol' son," said his manager. "I wouldn't have thought you'd listen to that ol' commercial retro crap."
Philip didn't offer any defence. He just made a bee line for the shower. Psylem made a bee line for the CD collection. Psylem knew the importance of the CD and didn't let on accordingly. He flipped through the collection and noticed that there was no CD in the player. As he flipped through the stack of CDs one of them slid off the top and went crashing to the ground at the end of the cupboard they were sitting on, the jewel box splitting open and cracking slightly.
"Oh shit," said Psylem. He surveyed the wreckage for a time and bent to pick up the pieces, wondering if the jewel box hadn't been damaged beyond repair. As he picked up the lid he noticed a round object leaning up against the edge of the cupboard on its end. It looked like a CD but the CD he had sent to the ground was still secure within its half of the jewel box. He picked it up and observed it for a second.
"Philip. I've got some good news and some bad news," shouted Psylem at the bathroom. "The good news is I found your stupid Stalk CD. The bad news is, I broke the jewel box of one of your Kraftwerk CDs." He heard the water stop and a few moments later the still wet Salisman emerged from the steamy space.
"Where was it?" said Philip, still desperately trying to dry his hair before he became too cold.
"It was down there." Psylem pointed to where he had found it.
"Oh," said Philip nonchalantly as he moved to the bedroom. Closing the door so he could get dressed in private. Philip was sure it wasn't there when he had looked earlier. He was sure that the black dude who was there earlier with the SHADO guys had also looked there as well. Philip figured that Psylem had borrowed it for some reason and had just put it back there whilst he wasn't looking. He would get to the bottom of it later. But for now he had a gig to do.
Frogleberg and the others were sitting onboard the Lear X parked a short distance away from the Leifsstod terminal at Keflavik airport. They were almost ready to leave to take coverage of Philip's spot in the festival. They were chatting with the pilot and co-pilot whilst Appleyard worked furiously behind his console. They all seemed to be waiting on him.
"Are you sure this is going to work Anthony? Only we don't have a lot of time left."
Appleyard ignored him for a few seconds. Still tapping away at a keyboard and monitoring data. "Yeah there's no reason it won't work. It's worked before. But I have to wait till headquarters re-position SHADO-SAT seventeen into to geo-sync. We're just coming up on Iceland now. A few more minutes and we should be bang over Reykjavik." He paused and punched some more data into his terminal.
"OK now that it's here we can also divert some of the telemetry data through SS17 as well. That should make these things a little more reliable."
"Yeah but will the bugs stay in there?" said Jackson as Petrov came in through the door bearing hot food. Closely followed by Snypes.
"What bugs are those?" asked Petrov as he began to delve into his boxes of food and work out who's was what.
"We went to the concert organizers today," said Frogleberg. "We poked around as Interpol special agents."
"But Interpol don't have special field agents. They're just a clearing house these days," said Snypes as he handed out some of his containers.
"Yeah, that's right. But the people here don't seem to know that. Fact is that people don't really know much about what Interpol actually do so it works to our advantage," said Frogleberg as he opened his box of unsightly hot food and extracted something that smelt much better than it looked.
"Anyway. We got them to let us inspect all the passes that were specifically for Philip and his crew. We slipped micro bugs into all the passes. We couldn't put a bug in just Philip's pass because we couldn't guarantee which one he'd be issued. The best we could do is know that his crew would be issued with only those specific passes. So we'll be chasing road crew and his manager around. Oh, and his new girlfriend as well. He's had a pass made up for her as well apparently. It's a tall order to keep track of all this so Anthony's just ordered in one our spy sats. We were using one out over the South Atlantic but with all the extra telemetry, it's going to be tricky."
Jackson continued the explanation. "We've got 3 extra telemetry packs to handle the local triangulation but with the aid of the satellite, and a GPS lock we can target him anywhere as long as he wears that security pass. Though it get's a little fuzzy outside of the immediate area."
"Anyway that's where you guys come in," said Frogleberg. "You've got to place the telemetry packs in the park at three different locations. Then you have to make sure we get them back. We don't want them to fall into the wrong hands if at all possible. Sounds like a job you can handle."
"But where do you want them put?" said Snypes.
"Anywhere as long as they're roughly in a triangular formation," said Appleyard. "The GPS will log their positions and then use that as a master reference to know where everyone is within the festival's area. You should place them in a radius of about one kilometre around the stage."
"There's one other thing," said Redenkov. They all turned to look at him. The Russian didn't say very much very often but when he did it was always profound.
"Salisman had the SHADO data on a CD. The CD got stolen. We don't know by whom yet."
Petrov wondered why the other's weren't in as much panic about this revelation as he was. "But. But," he said.
"Don't worry Petrov," said Jackson. "It was encrypted."
"Yes but there's bound to be trouble as a result," said Redenkov. "As soon as the people who stole it realize they can't get access to it, they're going to need to get Philip and force him to crack the code. We know they're not going to try anything till after the gig. No-one's likely to miss him too much after the gig goes down."
"So all in all, you need to be on your toes, okay guys," said Frogleberg. "We don't know what's going to go down but something is bound to. And on top of all this we have to find out who it is and what they know. Preferably how they found out. This Salisman guy's turned into a security nightmare."
"If it was me," said Snypes. "I'd just take the MoFo out and be done with it."
"And that my boy, is why you'll never make commander," said Jackson. It was a short lived laugh at Petrov and Snypes's expense.
The satellite was positioned and checked. The telemetry packs and associated hardware was loaded into a pair of brief cases. Their hunger was kept at bay by the unspeakable food and they were ready to set off once more for Reykjavik. Frogleberg was the last one through the hatch way. He turned and put his hand on the pilot's shoulder.
"And remember. you've got to be ready to put his thing in the air at a