Everything to Lose (19 page)

30

Southsea
,
Hampshire

Lisa looked closely at Gavin's pathetic-looking face. She didn't expect him to start praying if that was what he was doing. She shrugged her shoulders to her two brothers as they propped Gavin up between them. She returned the Walther to its drawer and re-thought her strategy.

"Lexy
darling take your knickers off," Lisa said to the young girl as she walked back from her desk.

Lexy
stood up, pushed her knickers to her feet, then picked them up and handed them to Lisa. Lisa looked disgusted at the shabby garment with its frayed elastic band, on worn and discoloured cotton material with a strong smell of urine. Lisa lifted Lexy's left hand and took a cheap gold coloured ring from Lexy's finger. The brothers manhandled Gavin to a nearby table. Jim McVickin took control of Gavin's left hand and slammed it on the table.

Using
Lexy's ring Lisa made three fleeting scratches and two deep scratches on the back of Gavin's hand. She mopped some of his blood from the deep scratches with Lexy's knickers. Another person would be worrying about what was going to happen next but Gavin Shawlens was worrying if bacteria or viruses had just got into his blood.

Lisa
walked over to her desk to fetch a clear plastic pouch bag then dropped the knickers and the ring inside. The brothers let Gavin free of their grip. Jim McVickin searched Gavin for his car keys and handed them to Sidney McVickin. Sidney took Lexy and left the room.

"Tell
me doctor in your expert biochemist opinion. Is there enough DNA here? Should I have one of the girls extract some of your sperm to be absolutely sure?"

Gavin
Shawlens looked horrified and Lisa was certain she was going to get what she wanted.

"Put
this in the drawer Jim. Follow me doctor," she said as she handed the bag to Jim McVickin.

Lisa
strode diagonally across the centre of the factory floor toward the bay on the opposite side of the building in the southeast corner. A South East Asian man inside wearing a grey overall pushed aside several of the large plastic strips to allow her inside.

Gavin
followed her and Jamie followed him. The first two bays on the east wall had been setup as a small-scale production facility. She told Gavin that as production had stopped they didn't need overalls or a respirator in the room.

"This
is Tokai he's Vietnamese. He's old school chemistry, bucket and spade stuff, you understand. He's very good with dog testicles when we get enough for a small batch."

She
rested the Banksia in the centre of Tokai's chest and pushed him backwards out of her way. Tokai stumbled back and nodded vigorously to his masters while keeping his eye on the hard nut. He didn't get three dark red lumps on the side of his head falling out of bed.

Gavin
Shawlens looked around and saw storage bins filled with vials of steroids, a number of large brown boxes with Chinese writing on the sides. One was open and inside he saw white tablets in polythene bags, resting on the top was a large stainless steel scoop. It was base material for steroid synthesis.

Nearby
he saw large blue plastic buckets with aluminium caps and black stoppers, boxes of labels and several assembly and packing tables. Further back he saw manufacturing equipment.

"Would
you like to try some of our roids doctor? I can vouch for them," Jamie said.

"Foreign
steroids will shrink your testicles."

"Scientific
crap, steroids produce growth and development. Everybody knows that," Jamie replied.

Jamie
posed to show off his powerful arm muscles.

"Okay
you're a business man. Testicles are factories for making steroids. They operate on supply and demand. When testicle-made steroids are replaced with your foreign roids, there's no need for testicle steroids. As a business man what do you think happens to a factory that is laid idle? I always say a steroid a day turns your balls into clay."

"Here's
what I want," Lisa said as she handed Gavin a list of five steroids.

"I
can't do this off the top of my head. I'll need to get the methods."

"Get
me detailed methods for garage scale manufacture. You'll supervise Tokai for the first couple of run-throughs then he'll take over."

"Then
I'm finished."

"When
I say so. I need you for phase two. I'm expanding my portfolio into peptides. I want recipes for growth hormone, insulin, EPO and ACTH."

"Hold
on. You're talking about chalk and cheese. Peptides are much more complicated than steroids. Peptides and proteins are out of the question."

"I
know of others who are producing them and doing very well. YOU will set me up to make them."

"This
equipment here is designed for steroids. You'll need new equipment for peptides. Several expensive machines."

"So
then, no problem, get me the best money can buy."

"What
happens when that's done?"

"When
I have everything I want. You can walk away and get on with your life. No harm done."

"I'll
have to use the University library to source these methods."

"Of
course. That's to be expected," she said.

"I'll
need at least a few days just for the steroids."

"Just
remember that if you run off or tell anybody then Lexy will be forced to tell her story. You know the one how you raped her in your car. At the very least your career is finished, more likely you get jail and buggered by all the jailbirds."

"I'm
not stupid."

"You
might decide to go straight to the police and you'll find them most helpful," Lisa said as she nodded to her brother.

Jim
McVickin placed his police ID warrant card in front of Gavin's eyes. The face and name belonged to Detective Inspector James McVickin.

"If
you do. I'll be waiting for you."

Jim
said he would make sure Gavin ended up in jail on a child rape charge. Jim said he would arrange for the 'big boys' inside to build him a new arsehole to accommodate their additional visiting rights. Lisa saw from the shock on his face he would keep his mouth shut. Sidney and Lexy returned and Sidney handed Gavin his car keys.

"Lexy's
fluids and hair are over the seats of his car. She threw-up over the back seat and into the back pocket of the front seat," Sidney said.

"Well
done Lexy," Lisa said loudly as Gavin followed Jim McVickin out of the building.

* * *

Gavin
Shawlens returned to the flat and hurried straight to his room. Zoe had returned from the funeral and greeted him with a soft smile as he passed. She spotted he was traumatised and quickly followed after him. He looked devastated and she thought he would burst into tears at any moment.

She
took him by the hand, pulled him over and sat him down on his bed. She sat on a chair in front of him. She looked closely at the scratches on his hand. His eyes welled up. His mind was fused on thoughts that his career was over. He didn't want to tell her in case she insisted on storming over there to sort it out.

With
a senior detective like Jim McVickin holding irrefutable evidence, she wouldn't be able to prove his innocence. In the end it would be his word against Lexy and his DNA on her underwear. Her DNA spread over his car. It was hopeless. He imagined the abject shame and disgust among his friends and family. It was all pushing him to the edge.

Who
would believe him? Gavin couldn't focus on anything that would prove his innocence. He felt he had to go through with it and hope they would let him walk away once he had done what they wanted.

"Out
with it. Come on," Zoe commanded.

"I
can't."

"Yes
you will or I'll take your trousers down and spank your bottom until you do," she said with a playful voice but her eyes were serious.

A
smile briefly played on his face but he shook his head to mean he didn't want to talk. She realised that whatever happened it was severe. He was about to burst into tears and maybe that would be the best thing to ease his tension. She took both his hands and held them in her hands. She squeezed them gently.

She
told him about the time one of her troopers had got himself into a horrendous personal situation with a local woman in Afghanistan. Afghan authorities and the girl's family demanded his blood. It all seemed so hopeless he was prepared to run off and lose himself in the hills, never to return. She got him to put his trust in her. She told him she would sort it and she did.

"Please
trust me. If you're in a bad place. Take my hand and I'll pull you out."

She
told Gavin that no matter what had happened she would believe him, she would stand by him, she would fight for him and she would protect him. With a bit more coaxing he told her what had happened at the Old Bards Club. She laughed with relief and stretched out her arms to place her hands on his shoulders. They eyeballed each other. She nearly kissed him but didn't.

"You
had me worried there. I thought you'd done something really bad," she said then pulled him forward for a quick hug.

She
told him the McVickin gang were no match for her and her gang. She said she would give them with a new business plan. One they won't be able to refuse.

"Believe
me Gavin," she told him.

"When
I'm done with the McVickins they'll be really glad to see the back of you."

She
told Gavin to get the drug methods copied onto a USB stick and be ready to play along with the McVickins. She told him he had an opportunity to find out if anyone or any part of McVickin's steroid drug business led back to Buzzwall or the University. He had to find out if there was a link.

He
hugged her, thanked her and she saw relief returning to his face. He told her he would have a shower then an early night. She called to him and he stopped, head down, leaning on the doorframe. He still looked shaky and distraught.

"Gavin
there are three certainties in this life. Taxes have to be paid, death is inevitable and hurricane Zoe will destroy anyone who dares touch one of her team," she said and he smiled back.

31

Havant
Road
,
Cosham

Agent Dovecoat looked rough and felt rough around the edges. Something in last night's dinner caused an upset stomach and restlessness during the night. Although hungry, breakfast looked as though it might cause more upset so Dovecoat breakfasted on coffee and toast.

The
weather outside was wet as it had been all week. It made the CIA base house cold and damp and the small heater under the desk was not powerful enough to heat up the huge room in this old former shop.

Dovecoat
blew warm air through cold fingers to try and heat them up. Britain had many good points but cold damp weather could wipe them out in the course of an afternoon when the weather changed. Going outside to get some hot fast food would mean getting wet even with a brolly. Then sitting in damp clothes would add to the misery. Dovecoat looked at the screen supplying live feed from the Zoe Tampin's flat. The flat was quiet. Gavin Shawlens and Zoe Tampin had left.

Dovecoat
switched out of the live feed and played the previous night's recording. A strange feeling of anticipation took hold as the recording replayed. It was strange because Dovecoat had watched the night surveillance many times without any thought or feeling.

This
time Dovecoat felt something was coming. It was a sense that the hunt would soon be over. It felt like this particular overnight recording was the one, the final one. Dovecoat paused the recording and fast-forwarded it to the beginning of Gavin's latest nightmare. Is this finally coming to an end? Anticipation started to gather pace.

During
the replay Gavin's voice could be heard. He was talking through his nightmare. Dovecoat sat down with a large cup of coffee and a numbered list of thirty-four key words. It was a list of words to listen out for during his nightmare. This time it was accompanied with a feeling of eagerness that the end was near.

Within
a few minutes Dovecoat had circled four numbers and several had cropped up more than once. The initial exhilaration quickly faded and was replaced with dread.

"No,
no, no, Shawlens. Shut up. SHUT UP. DAMN YOU." Dovecoat stood up and shouted at the screen.

Gavin
Shawlens continued talking through his nightmare and Dovecoat circled another three numbers on the list. Shawlens had crossed the line. Dovecoat's instructions were clear. If Shawlens spoke five or more of the key words from the numbered list in a single conversation then an immediate high priority communication was to be sent to POINT-K.

Dovecoat
stopped the recording. There was no point hearing any more, the threshold had been crossed. Dovecoat sat back and felt like a wildcat that cornered a mouse and was unsure what to do with it.

Dovecoat
didn't know why POINT-K was monitoring Gavin Shawlens or why the surveillance had intensified since his stomach transplant operation. Dovecoat knew that POINT-K communications were routed through the CIA but not that they landed on the desk of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

What
Dovecoat did have was a list of thirty-four words and a specific instruction to listen-in on his conversations and report back when five or more of these words were strung together in the same discussion. That trigger had now been pulled.

While
typing the communication, a feeling of sadness crossed Dovecoat's mind. What now. On their own the words didn't make much sense. Would there be a next phase for Gavin Shawlens now he'd crossed this line. What would it involve? Dovecoat stared at the typed communication. Is this a death warrant?

Dovecoat
gazed up at a photograph of Gavin Shawlens pinned on the wall above the monitors. It was a picture taken on a sunny summer day of Gavin Shawlens, sitting on a chair in a grassy area of University grounds, surrounded by his smiling and happy research team on the occasion of his birthday. He had a birthday cake sitting on his lap. He looked self-conscious probably embarrassed. Christine Willsening stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders as if she was holding him down. She had a big smile on her face.

"Goodbye
Gavin. I probably won't see you again," Dovecoat said then tapped the send key.

* * *

The
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff George W Schumantle's Personal Aid knocked and entered the office, interrupting his meeting with the Chief of Staff of the Army and the Chief of Staff of the Marine Corps. George knew his PA would never interrupt unless it was something he had to deal with immediately and the look on his PA's face confirmed it was urgent.

"Sir,
this arrived and was delivered in person. The person is waiting outside for a reply," the PA said as he handed over a brown envelope.

On
the envelope it stated FAOO: Chairman of Joint Chiefs. Open Immediately. From CIA Director, NCS. George asked his colleagues to re-schedule another meeting to finish off the business they had not completed as he gave his apologies for closing the meeting.

George
opened the envelope and extracted a single piece of folded paper. It was a communication from Dovecoat. He took the message and walked back to his desk to read it. His PA stood at attention in the middle of the room waiting to be dismissed. The message read: PR 1: FAOO - POINT-K: Subject: Tucuxi. Report: Keys 06, 08, 10, 19, 22, 24, 23, confirmed; awaiting instructions. End. Dovecoat.

George
Schumantle sighed as he looked up at his PA and told him to inform the CIA Director waiting outside that there would be no reply then he dismissed the PA.

George
went over to a large safe built into the wall and opened a flap to reveal a fingerprint scanner with a row of three neon lights. He pressed the middle finger of his right hand on finger print scanner until the first small light changed from red to green. He pressed the thumb of his left hand on the scanner. The second neon light changed from red to green. He pressed the second finger of his left hand on the scanner and the door unlocked.

The
lock allowed two attempts. He remembered the sequence by spreading his ten fingers out and counting them one to ten from left to right. All he had to remember was a simple three code sequence eight-five-two and that was safely stored in his mind.

In
the event of a hostage situation or other coercion, finger ten i.e. his right hand pinkie finger was an alarm. If used in any part of the sequence the neon light would turn to green but a silent alarm in Pentagon security would bring a hundred security men to the office in less than one minute.

In
the event of sudden death the Deputy Chairman of the JCS had a white envelope in his secure safe sealed by the office of the Chairman of the JCS. It stated on the front of the envelope 'To be opened by the next Chairman of the JCS - by order of George W Schumantle' and it bore his handwritten initials GWS underneath. Inside was a print film of George's finger ten.

It
would open the Chairman's vault and at the same time set off enough alarms in the Pentagon to cause a minor earthquake. It would be reset by the new Chairman of the JCS.

George
Schumantle extracted a box file from the vault and took it to his desk. While the vault was open a red light appeared over the Chairman's office door and two armed guards took position in front of the door to ensure no-one would enter the office while the red light was on. He sat down with the file and stared at it for a minute. It was labelled POINT-K4.

He
opened the box and extracted two files. One large file five inches thick and one smaller about one inch thick. He put the files side by side on his desk. He read the title on the smaller file: Mr Gavin Shawlens, August 1996. It was dog-eared around the edges reflecting its age.

George
found a numbered list of key words in the file that matched the list used by Dovecoat. He circled the ones that Dovecoat had reported. He sighed deeply and placed his left hand on the large file for a moment while he drummed his fingers. The title on the large file was POINT-K4.

George
Schumantle reflected on the POINT-K scheme to protect the most vital US secrets. He always hoped that in his period of service as Chairman he would not be called upon to deal with any of the POINT-K secrets.

Politicians
come and go with the seasons and in George Schumantle's experience most of them were shallow attention-seekers. Hollow weaklings who couldn't keep a real secret if their life depended on it. He knew some of them were careless, indiscrete, open to blackmail, schemers who were as untrustworthy as the night is long. Service men and women and security agents were trustworthier but they were human beings who could be turned or blackmailed or fooled into revealing secrets.

So
the most vital of US secrets were held securely by one person, the Chairman of the JCS. The vital POINT-K secrets remained in the Chairman's vault until events unfolded that necessitated action and subsequent engagement with the President and government agencies.

George
Schumantle decided that if preventative action was taken now with Gavin Shawlens then there was a very good chance POINT-K4 would remain in his vault. George made his decision quickly. It would not be too long before Shawlens posed an unacceptable risk to the national security of the USA. It was unfortunate Shawlens was a civilian about to be sacrificed for the greater good. Compassion had in fact created the Shawlens problem in the first place and now it had just run out.

George
Schumantle was a consummate professional soldier and never one to hesitate when hard decisions were needed. Life or death decisions, he wouldn't flinch. An execution is always a bit harder to swallow. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to himself that ended when he asked for forgiveness for what he was about to do for his country.