I, I mean Mitchell followed the procedure to switch phases. He got a signature and he followed the procedure to flip him back.
Then he gave Snowman the key and told him what to do with it. Maybe he was confused and didnt remember what the key was for. Phase transition is not easy.
Other possibilities?
Skinner shrugged. Maybe Snowman doesnt want to do it.
After all these years, I think thats unlikely.
Jack Logan butted in, Yes, but maybe this is too hot to handle. Experienced operatives like Mitchell dont just top themselves for no reason.
Callan spoke: But there does seem to be a reason in Mitchells case: ChiroButyline-A. As for Snowman, the most likely explanation for his inactivity is that he couldnt understand what to do because you guys had just turned his mind inside out. Or imagine if he was in the wrong state when you gave him the instructions he would probably be completely unaware of them when he flipped back.
Dr Skinner made a gesture as though he wanted to interrupt, but changed his mind. Graham Wood and Tom Brookes were looking bored now. All they knew about this was that they didnt need to know anything.
Callan continued: It could be that he simply had no idea what to do with this damned key he found in his possession. He probably threw it away. He might have handed it in to the hotel, thinking it belonged to someone else.
We could have that checked out, Dr Skinner said. We could phone the hotel.
I doubt if they keep records of people handing keys in to them, Skinner, Osbourne said. But I think you might be onto something, Callan. Lets assume that its true that he was in no state to remember verbal instructions and he misplaced the key or threw it away what can we do about it now?
Give him the whole package again in writing, Callan said.
But how? Osbourne asked. Mitchell gave him the instructions verbally in Helsinki and we expected him to cooperate. As far as Snowman is concerned, nobody else was involved. Dr Skinner wasnt there and he was going to communicate only with Mitchell. So what are we going to do? How are we going to give him the instructions again?
Send them through the post anonymously, Callan offered.
Why would he swallow that? said Osbourne. Whats the scenario? Did Mitchell send them knowing he was about to?
OK, Callan agreed, No, that wont do.
Osbourne said, We need someone who was already involved for this to be credible to him. Weve got no one.
Dr Skinner hesitated and then said: Apart from myself but, as we know, Ive not been cleared to see him in any circumstances since the separation event, in case of fusion. So, yes, theres no one suitable.
There is one other person, Callan stated.
Who? Dr Skinner asked. He seemed both surprised and worried.
Mitchell told me about a girl that he used for errands. He told me he intended to use her to try to keep an eye out
But this is completely irregular! How was he using this girl? Who the hell is she to
I gave him permission. As it turns out, she could be just the person to keep this project on track.
But, youre hardly authorised to have given per
Now Osbourne interrupted: Please, Dr Skinner, spare us. All is fair in love and war. Lets consider this possibility.
8. A Meeting In The Park
A week had passed since news of Mitchells suicide. Since then, Richard hadnt had a lot to do perhaps Mitchell had been more effective at delegating work than he had been given credit for. This afternoon he sat at his desk watching everyone else work. The integration team were not at their desks. It was Thursday; they must be in the main meeting room. Rayhaan from pre-sales was screwing his face up at his screen. No doubt there was something about his power-point presentation that was causing him some concern. In pre-sales, you had to be careful of exactly what you said, and how you said it.
Richards thoughts drifted back to Helsinki. That Helsinki trip had been quite a jaunt! He reminded himself of one particularly delightful event. A few days after meeting Mitchell, he had been sitting in the hotel bar minding his own business when some super-nice girl started chatting to him. They ended up getting blind drunk together. He recalled her showing him a tattoo on the top of her thigh, hitching up her skirt so he could read it (which was nice of her). He had a vague memory of rolling around in bed with her shortly afterwards. Unfortunately, he was so drunk he couldnt remember any details. He had no idea if she was good in bed or not, and it was unlikely he had been, the state he was in. Rolling around in bed was probably an all-too-accurate description of what theyd done. All he could remember about her was she had long brown hair and green eyes. She had a name like Mandy, or Elaine, or Ella or Maureen, or something. Well, she had some sort of name. Most people do, especially girls. In the morning she was gone before hed woken up. It was a shame. And it was also a shame he was stuck in London just now. When you were abroad, staying in a hotel and on decent expenses, things like that tended to happen. Well, maybe not quite like that; she really had been something.
Time dragged for Richard. There were only a few other people around, all busy looking at their terminals. There was no one to talk to; they were not exactly transfixed by their terminals, but it was clearly their preferred way of interfacing with reality. Talking to any of them would be considered an annoying distraction. Even those of them that had been emailing him today.
It was time to take another look at todays emails. Nothing special there; the usual stuff about cakes in the kitchen for someones birthday. Richard knew the cakes were all gone by now. He had one himself just to be sociable, even though he didnt know the person concerned. The core five lift was out of order Dont use the sales dept printer until further notice
There was an email from Mitchell. For half a second, Richard truly believed it was from Mitchell. He opened it with a sense of dread, as though he really was going to be hearing from beyond the grave.
Meet me at the bandstand in Hyde Park at three p.m. today.
There was nothing else. Just that. It couldnt be Mitchell, of course. It was someone else who had access to his email account. Who could that be? No one else should have access to Mitchells account. It was almost more likely it was Mitchell.
Richard looked at his phone to check the time two p.m. He would need to hurry. Scrambling to get his laptop switched off and packed, then wriggling into his coat, he left the building, heading for Bank tube. Bank would be better than Tower Hill, though a longer walk; the Central Line was more reliable than the Circle Line. The Circle Line is often delayed because its the favourite one to commit suicide on.
Luckily, the tube was running well. Richard made it to Hyde Park Corner in plenty of time. He was waiting at the bandstand by 2:45. Who am I waiting for? he wondered.
It got to 3:05. No one had turned up. Richard had eagerly scrutinised every passer-by, trying to build a reason around that particular person; who they were, what their connection to Mitchell was, and why they would want to meet him. The girl in the mini-skirt who smiled at him wouldve been a particularly happy choice. Too good to be true.
A couple of squat, rough-looking Bulgarians had passed by too, giving his imagination a scenario that was less pleasant to contemplate. Richard told himself to keep a grip on his imagination as they passed him by without incident, spitting out their conversation in guttural tones, completely unaware of Richard and the wild speculation they had caused him.
A couple of squat, rough-looking Bulgarians had passed by too, giving his imagination a scenario that was less pleasant to contemplate. Richard told himself to keep a grip on his imagination as they passed him by without incident, spitting out their conversation in guttural tones, completely unaware of Richard and the wild speculation they had caused him.
Quite a lot of people passed by, with Richards imagination, now suppressed, failing to relieve the boredom of waiting. There were loads of people cycling in London these days. Richard knew he was not brave enough for anything like that. He was not courageous; not physically; most of the time not even mentally. If someone criticised his work as incorrectly documented or badly structured, he would agonise for ages. That was what made him a good techie fear of doing something wrong even something trivial.
The girl in the mini-skirt was coming back. She looked vaguely familiar somehow, unless his memory was playing tricks from having noticed her ten minutes ago. She was in her late twenties, quite smartly dressed, with lovely, long blonde hair. Her shoulder bag looked expensive. All her clothes did, in fact. He speculated that perhaps she was Mitchells daughter. She looked a little too cheerful and rather too well dressed, even glamorous, for that though.
Hi, she said. Richard?
Yes.
Melanie. I sent the email from Andrews mobile. I didnt know how else to get in touch.
Richard was still slightly taken aback. In spite of his speculation, he hadnt expected the girl in the mini-skirt to be the one. He couldnt get over the impression that hed seen her before somewhere.
Have we met before? he asked.
Possibly, she said, more shyly than he expected, given her confident demeanour. But she continued without further explanation, I have something for you. Its from Andrew.
Richard realised the expression of doubt that had clouded the girls face must be a reflection of his own puzzlement.
You did know Andrew, didnt you? she asked.
Andrew, yes. We called him Mitchell though. Andy Mitchell. I didnt know him all that well; only a few months. He was my boss.
There was a slightly awkward pause.
So who are you then? Richard asked.
I was his girlfriend. The vague idea they had already met persisted, but it was suppressed by another idea Richard seemed to remember Mitchell had a wife. Yes, of course he had a wife. Well, it seems he had a girlfriend too. A hell of a girlfriend, in fact.
You seem quite cheerful for a girlfriend whos just lost her nearest and dearest, Richard said bluntly.
Ah. Her eyes looked down, showing that she was rather contrite after all. She hesitated a moment and then, after brushing her hand elegantly through her hair, the cheerful look returned to her face and her eyes looked directly up into his. I was more of a girlfriend experience.
A girl
I work at Aphrodites Secret. She snapped open her shoulder bag and took out a glossy card.
See, she said, offering the card.
Richard took the card. Out of a vague sense of embarrassment, he didnt look too closely at it, but a brief glance at the shiny black card with gold lettering was enough to let him know what kind of a girlfriend Mitchell had had.
Anyway, take this too. She handed him a padded envelope. He told me not to open it, and I havent. He gave it to me with instructions to pass it on to you if anything happened to him. I had no idea that he had probably already decided to kill himself.
Thanks. Richard felt slightly abashed. For some reason, it seemed like she had acted with the greatest kindness to give him the envelope. Still unopened, too. In fact, such was the level of altruism she had exhibited, it was Richards turn to feel contrite; he suddenly realised she neednt have bothered. He wondered why she had, in fact. Was that suspicious? Am I being set up? he wanted to ask.
So whats in it for you? Why have you he blurted out.
She interrupted before he finished asking. Oh, its quite simple. When he gave me the envelope, it reminded me that he was pretty much irreplaceable as a customer. He gave me this. She showed him her necklace.
Very nice. Richard was trying not to make it too obvious that his eyes had decided not to focus on the necklace but to look a little further down the top of her blouse. It wasnt just his eyes that were enjoying themselves; his nose too was enthralled by her scent. No wonder the poor bastard was in debt.
He couldnt get over the impression that hed seen her before somewhere. Did you say weve met before?
Yes, dont you remember? I had dark hair then. I was staying in a hotel with Andrew and ended up in the cocktail bar being chatted up by some nice gentleman.
Richard was still mystified.
The Grand Sokos Hotel I had green eyes too contacts.
Oh my god! Oh its Richard was going to say so nice to see you again, but in the circumstances he wasnt sure if he should.
Andrew got me to fly over to see him. That was when he gave me this handbag. Its Miu Miu, she explained. He was always giving me lots of little things like that.
So you felt obliged to help him out because of that? Richard asked, returning to the subject of the envelope.
Not exactly. I decided it would be a good idea because, I thought that, seeing as we got on so well together in Helsinki, I thought maybe if I helped you with the envelope, you would quite likely be interested in seeing more of me.
Richard was surprised but delighted with this idea, but before he could express his delight she added: As a customer.
9. A Word For Winter
Karl Marx was right. In late capitalism, every human relationship would be based on money. Now that the idea was in Richards head, it was pretty much irresistible. The idea of Melanie, that is, not the idea of Karl Marx being cynically correct.
So it seemed Melanie had simply taken the opportunity to advertise herself to a prime potential customer in return for helping Mitchell. Fair enough. He wondered if hed paid for her services back in Helsinki. He couldnt remember handing over any money, but then he could hardly remember anything about that night. So maybe that was the explanation, and it hadnt been romantic infatuation after all, which was a shame. But he wouldnt mind seeing her again anyway, even on those terms.
Whatever the case, Melanie would have to wait until later. In fact, she might need to wait until he could afford a Miu Miu bag or two. She seemed to imply she thought he could be as good a customer as Mitchell had been in that respect. Unfortunately for her, that was most unlikely; he had a hard enough job paying his normal bills, never mind trying to pay for an expensive girlfriend.
Anyway, right now, all he wanted to do was open the envelope. He watched Melanie walk off, back in the direction of Knightsbridge. For some reason, he wanted to make sure she wouldnt see him opening the envelope. That act was going to be too private. It was possibly even dangerous. By the time he judged she was far enough away, he was itching to get it open and have done with it.
Some burka-clad women were waddling towards him, and skaters suddenly appeared and sped off. He would need to head further into the park, into the trees. There he would be alone. Alone, and therefore vulnerable in a different way.
He began walking further into the centre of the park, looking for a quiet bench. He wanted to be sure no one was watching. He also felt he had to sit down to open the envelope. He was so nervous about it; it was worse than getting exam results. He could feel his heart beating. At last he found a quiet park bench.