LITMIR.BIZ

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luggage?’ asked Rod.

      ‘Our houseboy is packing it up and will send it later.’ said Sam in a deliberately offhand manner. ‘Singapore clothes don’t exactly match the London climate anyway.’

      ‘Well it’s good to know that The Fund’s money isn’t being wasted out there,’ grinned Rod.

      Bree laughed, ‘You should have seen the fight the two of them put up trying to pack. There was six-foot-two am having it out with a skinny little five-foot Chinese grandfather. Sam lost by the way and had to stand aside while the houseboy did all the work.’

      ‘You both look in the peak of condition,’ said Rod as they lifted off.

      ‘Helping Wendy Chung to set up the office was hardly the most difficult assignment that we’ve ever been given,’ said Bree, ‘We’ve had plenty of spare time for sightseeing and keeping in shape. In fact, the hardest thing we’ve had to do was to keep up with Wendy in the gym. She’s an absolute dynamo.’

      ‘And she’s been teaching us some of her martial arts techniques,’ added Sam. ‘Bree is becoming quite adept at sword play.’

      ‘I’ll keep that in mind the next time we want chips for tea,’ joked Rod.

      ‘Very funny!’ said Bree, ‘It’s an ancient discipline.’

      ‘Sorry!’ apologised Rod, ‘but I can’t imagine what use swordplay is to the modern intelligence agent.’

      ‘Ask me again after I’ve removed your head from your body with a flick of my wrist,’ smiled Bree sweetly.

      Rod swallowed hard and decided to change the subject. He brought them up to date on the refugee camp, and the latest events in Namola. At the mention of Joseph Lattua’s name the agents both let out a loud laugh.

      Surprised at their reaction, he asked, ‘You know him?’

      ‘It is a small world,’ said Bree, ‘Lattua was our first assignment together when we joined Inland Security.’

      ‘So you have background information on him?’

      ‘Well it was a few years ago, so it’s not completely up to date, but we do know quite a lot about President for Life Joseph Lattua.’

      ‘We’ll still need to get our hands on the latest information,’ said Rod. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to use your contacts at Inland Security to help us?’

      Bree and Sam looked at one another. Their continued involvement with Inland Security was supposed to be a secret between themselves and their chief, John Thorpe. To admit that they could readily obtain the necessary information would be to admit that they were still a part of that organisation.

      ‘Well I don’t think that would be possible,’ said Sam. ‘Inland Security would take a dim view of retired agents snooping around their halls.’

      ‘Of course! Sorry!’ said Rod, and thought to himself, ‘Bullshit’.

      ‘I think the best idea would be to look around the country and find a Namolan expatriot who’s willing to talk,’ offered Bree. ‘The universities probably have several students studying over here.’

      Rod nodded at the suggestion, ‘I’ll check into it. Thanks.’

      ***

      Stepping out of the helicopter the agents saw the newly completed building for the first time. ‘Very modern,’ observed Sam, ‘Nothing like the old bank building in London.’

      ‘Nothing at all,’ agreed Rod as he led them through the front door. ‘By the way, your old security passes won’t work around here. I’ll have to leave you in the hands of Teddy Strang’s people. When you’re finished, report to my office.’

      But Bree and Sam barely heard the words as he walked away. Their attention had been immediately drawn to an object sitting regally on a low plinth in the wide, modern foyer.

      Its metal body still displayed the scorch marks and scratches of battle, with a few chips in its bullet-proof windows, but despite this the Rolls Royce had been lovingly cleaned and polished.

      Now it stood below the large portrait of Janice Patricia Green, the elderly woman whose money had created The Fund and was better known by the more notorious name of Jade Green.

      ‘It’s her Rolls! The armoured one!’ breathed Sam.

      Before they could discuss the matter further they were joined by the head of security Teddy Strang.

      ‘Welcome home! Come with me and I’ll get you both fixed up.’

      Reluctantly they left the regal vehicle and followed The Fund’s Head of Security.

      ***

      The agents were expecting to have their photo taken and a new plastic card issued, but they were totally bemused when they finally reported to Rod Taylor’s office two hours later.

      Not only had they been fingerprinted, photographed, DNA samples taken, but to their total shock a nurse had used an alcohol swab to clean a patch of skin on their neck, close to their shoulders. A doctor had then injected a local anaesthetic and sliced the skin before inserting a microchip into the open wound.

      ‘We’re now going to be treated like lost dogs,’ remarked Sam before breaking into a sad yelping bark.

      The doctor gave them a slight smile as he covered their minor wounds with a skin coloured bandage. ‘If you think that’s merely a tracking chip, then you’re very much mistaken,’ he said.

      ‘What else does it do?’ asked Bree.

      ‘Not even I know that.’

      ‘But you must know,’ insisted Bree.

      He shrugged, ‘All I know is that all employees of The Fund have them, and we are paid extremely well for the minor initial discomfort.’ The doctor turned away from them and pointed to the nurse’s neck where they could now discern a small raised section of skin. If they hadn’t been looking for it, they wouldn’t have been aware of its presence.

      ‘Not even my husband has noticed it,’ said the nurse.

      ***

      ‘What’s with the microchips?’ asked Sam as soon as they walked into Rod’s office.

      Rod shrugged his shoulders, ‘I have one, so does my wife and even my son. If anything were to happen to us, a car accident or something like that, the computers here will pick it up and emergency procedures instigated. It’s for our own good and is especially relevant for employees such as yourselves who operate in the field.’

      ‘I don’t like the idea,’ said an indignant Bree, ‘It’s totally Orwellian.’

      ‘It’s for your own good, and a further addition to your watches.’

      ‘I can take off the watch when I need to,’ said Bree.

      ‘And what if something happens when you don’t have the watch with you, or if someone takes it off you?’

      ‘That’s my problem.’

      Rod shook his head. ‘No, that’s The Fund’s problem. You’ll be in trouble and we won’t have contact with you. If we don’t know where you are we won’t be able to help you. The board of directors is taking a very serious line on this. There will be no exceptions.’

      ‘Well it’s in, so I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it without going to see a surgeon.’

      ‘Learn to live with it. After a day or two you’ll forget it’s there. Now let’s go. We have a meeting to attend.’

      ***

      Justine brought the meeting to order. ‘This meeting has been called to discuss the current situation in Namola.’

      The mention of that country caused Bree and Sam,

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