This was the cue for the audience to look confused and for Dick to turn a deeper shade of red, not from the praise, but from increased blood pressure. Was this the moment he was going to be exposed? After an uncomfortable silence the Leader continued. ‘And the reason he shouldn’t be here is purely a selfish one. I don’t want him tied up in bureaucracy. I want him developing the next “Jack”; another great invention that will assist the Party! Ladies and gentlemen, please give a very warm welcome to Jeremy Brunel!’
To Dick’s enormous relief the Leader started the applause and was immediately joined by his colleagues. After this warm welcome the other Council members introduced themselves one by one in the manner of a self-help group (‘Hello, my name is Ian. I’ve been advising the Leader on public architecture for three years…’). Dick’s colleagues were all very welcoming and friendly. It was a real mix of people, mainly men but a few women, with a wide spread of ages although it was evident that Dick was the youngest. The Council members came from all types of backgrounds and all sorts of careers. In fact there was actually little they had in common, apart from an overwhelming and overzealous desire to serve the Party.
The whole ambience of the meeting wasn’t one you’d associate with a gathering of influential representatives of a police state. There was tea and coffee, several plates of carefully arranged digestive biscuits placed at regular intervals along the table, and everyone had lined paper and a sharpened pencil. The meeting started with apologies for absence, a look at the agenda, the reading of minutes from the last session and then a summary of the agreed action points. Once this part of the meeting was successfully concluded each of the committee heads reviewed their current projects and initiatives.
Despite the amount of information being conveyed on a multitude of different subjects the Leader maintained a keen interest throughout, offering insightful comments from time to time. Since this was Dick’s first meeting, all the issues discussed were brand new to him. There was little of worth he could contribute but he made numerous notes in case there was anything of interest he could report back to Taylor.
Eventually it was Enid’s turn to report. She brought up the matter of the phone call analysis and said that it was inconclusive and that further investigation was needed. Dick moaned inwardly, thinking of yet more transcripts he’d have to analyse. What suspect words and phrases would he have to look for this time? ‘Picnic in the park’ or ‘Feeding the ducks’? Enid also updated everyone about a new recruitment campaign for the security forces, a review of interrogation techniques and the procurement and installation of additional CCTV cameras cunningly concealed within ornamental lampposts. These were all interesting to hear about, but not that significant. Then Enid mentioned something about ‘Operation Trojan Horse’.
‘Ah, yes’, the Leader enquired. ‘How is Mr. Parnell?’
The tea Dick was drinking at the time went down the wrong hole. Or both holes at once. He wasn’t sure but it didn’t matter; the effect was the same. He choked and spluttered simultaneously. With everyone staring at him, Dick wiped his watering eyes and apologised. As he took another sip to calm his nerves, Enid replied.
‘Very well. He reports that he’s about to be officially accepted into the Resistance. His blindfold comes off tonight’.
Dick’s next sip of tea also went down the wrong hole, but this time he didn’t cause as much of a scene; his spluttering was drowned out by the sound of the Council members loudly applauding.
‘Splendid!’, announced the Leader over the sounds of approval. ‘And is he quite certain his identity has not been compromised?’
‘Definitely’, Enid said proudly. ‘In all of his meetings with the Resistance leadership there has been absolutely no indication that they are aware of his true identity’. Enid turned to address the rest of the Council. ‘They seem to have accepted him and his fake background on face value from the very first time they noticed the news story we planted. There is a real eagerness, in fact, over-eagerness, to have him on board’.
‘And do we know where the Resistance operate from?’ asked a skinny, pale-looking man who headed the Cultural Committee.
‘No’, answered Enid. ‘As we thought, although the resistance movement is small it is surprisingly technologically proficient. From his initial meetings, Mr. Parnell learned they have various electronic counter-measures in place to avoid detection. Alerted to this fact, it was obvious that he would be unable to conceal any tracking devices on subsequent visits’.
‘Then how can we ever discover their headquarters?’, asked the skinny, pale-looking man. ‘How can we raid it, arrest the members and interrogate them?’
‘That is now not the prime objective’, answered the Leader before Enid had a chance to speak. ‘From even the few meetings he has had so far, Mr. Parnell has gleaned sufficient knowledge of the Resistance’s plans and capabilities. There is no more to learn; that means his mission has changed’.
Dick wondered what he meant by ‘sufficient knowledge’? Taylor had been a fool to even admit Parnell without sufficient checks but even he wouldn’t have told him all about the movement’s plans so soon… would he?
‘Why weren’t we told about the new mission?’ asked Stanley Carrington who up until now had been silent, and after asking this question, probably wished he’d remained that way.
The Leader crashed his fist down on the polished table with such force that every saucer simultaneously leapt off the table, every cup simultaneously leapt out of its saucer and the milk jug fell over. With this sudden, violent move, the Leader now had everyone’s rapt attention.
‘Because I changed the plan, Mr. Carrington, that is why!’, the Leader shouted. The way he shouted those ten words made everyone in the room fully aware of his unquestionable, supreme authority. ‘And do you have a problem with that?’, he enquired, slightly more calmly.
A nervous Stanley stammered out half an answer. ‘N-no, sir. I j-just thought…’
‘Well don’t!’ shouted the Leader. ‘Although we were unable to locate the actual headquarters Mr. Parnell gained considerable information from his incursions and he has been issued with new orders’. The Leader nodded towards Enid who continued on his behalf.
‘Mr. Parnell’s role has changed from being that of a spy to that of an assassin’, she said calmly.
Dick was too shocked to even fart. He knew Taylor had been wrong to take such a cavalier attitude towards the recruitment of Parnell. Ordinarily he’d take immense pleasure in knowing he’d been right. Now though, Dick was so shaken and scared he found himself temporarily devoid of any emotions.
As if he needed to justify his decision, which he really didn’t, the Leader explained the thinking behind his plan. ‘Groups like this traditionally have a top heavy chain of command with a very strong leader and usually just a couple of second lieutenants. Destroy the people at the very top and you destroy the whole group. Cut off the head and the tail will die!’.
‘How are you going to cut off their heads?’, asked an anonymous-looking woman seated three places to Dick’s left who had something or other to do with food production.
‘It’s a figure of speech’, sighed the Leader. ‘Mr. Parnell will use a prototype weapon to destroy the leadership; a miniature laser pistol that’s been fashioned out of a new ceramic material. We’re certain the Resistance scanners won’t be able to detect it’.
‘Ironically’, the Leader added, smiling, ‘Given Mr. Parnell’s training and the weapon’s firepower, the Resistance is unlikely to put up much resistance’.