Operation Black Dragon
Written for Like the Prose 2021
Agent-in-training Owen Davies slid silently down the elevator shaft of the Canary Wharf Tower, just as he’d practiced. He’d been training for this moment for three years, ever since he’d first entered the Welsh Espionage Service Training (WEST), the Welsh Secret Service’s training center for secret agents. Hidden in a carved out section of Rhinog Fach, he’d spent two years studying every world language (the Welsh are famous for their capacity for quickly learning a language as they all make more sense than Welsh); becoming 6th dan black belt at Llan Goch, the Welsh martial art passed down a secret since its inception by Welsh zen master, Daffyd Blayney while he was sitting and contemplating the night sky under a chuckleberry bush; and memorising witty repartee suitable to a Welsh secret agent. Armed with this cluster of character traits, he had painstakingly served his time working casefiles and performing the role of operations officer before the chance came for him to show the WSS his true mettle. His task was simple; a group of unscrupulous English investors had devised a scheme to make a fortune creating a secret dam across the river Wye to harnessing its energy and sell it back into the national grid. The dam would flood several villages in Wales and the West country. His task was to infiltrate Canary Wharf tower and steal the dam’s blueprints. If he failed in his mission, he would only have seven or eight more attempts; if he was caught, the WSS would disavow any knowledge of him and he would be tried in an English court for industrial espionage. Technically, it would be in a civil court, not criminal court, but it would still be very embarrassing, so he had to make sure he wasn’t caught. Fortunately, he’d trained for four months for this. Nothing could go wrong.
As he neared his floor, he checked in with his back-up as was protocol, keeping his voice at a whisper in order not to set off the sound-sensitive security system embedded in the walls. His back-up’s name was Courtney; she was currently going through her year’s experience as operations officer and he enjoyed the flirtatious game he was playing with her.
“Courtney, I’m at the 14th floor. Waiting two minutes for the guard to pass. Say, after I get this done, why don’t you and I go on that date at last? Maybe The Classroom? They have the most gorgeous views of the city and an oyster tartare to die for. How does that sound?”
A stranger’s voice responded. “Oh! Well aren’t you a charmer. That does sound nice. What’s your name, dear? I could very much take you up on that offer!”
Owen’s breath caught short. “Excuse me? Who are you? Where’s Courtney?”
The voice that came from his earpiece was kind, wise and affectionate, yet with a strength that hid an underlying no-nonsense attitude. Owen was reminded of his Naina. “I’m afraid Ms Jones had to leave, dear. Oooh, is that your sweetheart? She’s very nice. You know she…”
“Enough games!”, Owen interrupted, “Who are you and what have you done with her?”
“Oooh, you do like you don’t you, dear? I’m afraid she had a nasty stomach bug, I’ve been brought in to replace her.”
“What the? Oh, I don’t believe this! Where did they drag you from?”
“It’s no good taking that attitude, young man! What would your mother think of you talking to someone like that? Now, why don’t you ask politely?”
“This is a secret mission!”, exclaimed Owen, his anger mounting but managing to keep his voice to whisper levels.
“That’s no excuse for rudeness!”, the voice said.
“Who are you!?”, Owen whispered a little loudly. A noise sensor vibrated silently on his wrist.
“Careful, dear!”, the voice said, “You don’t want to set off the alarms.”
Owen took a deep breath. At least she knew something about what was going on.
Owen whispered through gritted teeth. “If it is not too much trouble, may I have the pleasure of knowing to whom I am speaking?”
“My name’s Megan, dear.”, the voice said, “Megan Williams. I’m going to be your back-up today.”
“Rank? Specialism?”, said Owen.
“Oh, I don’t really have one, dear”, said Megan, “think of me as wandering support staff.”
Owen frowned. He really didn’t want to do this with an amateur.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Megan said, seemingly reading his mind, “I’ve read your file and the mission brief. We’ll have you grabbing those blueprints in no time. Trust me.”
Owen considered his options and realised he had none. He glanced at his watch, 20 seconds, he took ten seconds to center himself and responded. “Ok, Megan, let’s go.”
“Yippee.” Megan said, “Ok, elevator shaft doors opening in 5… 4… 3…”
Owen heard the clacking of a keyboard and the door opened.
“Security guard has just passed,” said Megan, “You have 30 seconds to get to the fourth door on the left.”
“Right.”, acknowledged Owen.
“No! Left!”,
“Ok, left! Roger! Jesus!”
“Don’t blaspheme!”
Owen grumbled and raced over to the door.
Megan hissed, “and don’t forget the red carpet tiles are pressure pads!”
Owen cursed and nearly tripped over himself as he changed direction mid-pace. He did a neat two-step while correcting himself that Megan recognised over the hall’s security camera as eerily similar to a move that a GI had shown her during the war. It hadn’t impressed her then either.
“Is that how you wanted to do it dear?”, Megan asked, “It looked very nice on the camera.”
Owen ignored her and opened the door. The laser maze was next and he needed to reserve his concentration for the complicated set of moves he now had to make to traverse it. He shut the door behind him and stood at the edge of the maze, centering himself as he waited for the lasers to return to the starting configuration that would give him the window of opportunity he needed to get through. He focused on the silence around him.
“Dear?” Megan’s voice broke through his wall of zen-like focus.
“Quiet Megan.”, whispered Owen, not taking his eyes off the laser grid in front of him, “This required pinpoint timing.”
Owen tried to regain his focus, turning off all senses except his eyes following the route of the lasers’ paths. He began to sway with the rhythm of randomness he perceived, and then, as the lasers started nearing their opportunity point again….
“But dear, you don’t have to…”
“Megan, please! Keep radio silence until I am through this maze. You can bother me with whatever you want afterwards.”
Megan sighed. “Suit yourself, dear.”
Owen returned again to the laser grid. Struggling this time to return to the same level of focus, he relied instead on his powerful instinct that had gotten him to where he was today. As the laser grid neared the opportunity point one more time, he jumped. His timing was less than perfect, but still at the edge of the window of opportunity. He danced, jumped, split, pirouetted and twirled his way through the laser maze, perhaps not as smoothly as he had seen in his head, but successfully making it through nonetheless.”
“Goodness dear, well done!”, Megan said as he came out of a double-flip and out of the maze.
“Thanks!” Owen whispered back, “Now, what was it you wanted?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter now,” said Megan.
“No, what was it that was so important?” insisted Owen.
“Well,” said Megan, “I was just looking at the room through the camera and noticed something. You see the light switches next to the doors at either end of the room?”
“What about them?”
“And you see the light chords hanging from the individual lightbulbs?”
Owen looked from the switches to the lightbulbs and back before it dawned on him. “No!”, he whispered.
“Don’t worry, dear,” said Megan.
“But I was practicing that for months!”
“And you were very good,” reassured Megan, “a bit wobbly, but you got through it.
“Why didn’t this come up in prep?” said Owen.
“Well, it is on the schematics. Didn’t you see them?” said Megan
“No!” Owen was seething.
“I mean, they’re where the light switches usually are,” said Megan, “but you take a second look at them and you can see they lead right into the maze.”
Owen was furious, but his training kicked in. “Don’t lose your head”, he recited the espionage manual to himself. “Sometimes plans work out differently than you hope.”
“Espionage is the art of adaptation,” finished Megan, “don’t worry, dear. Just get to the safe in the next room and you’re home and dry. And don’t forget the pressure pads.”
“Yes! I know!” Owen said as he entered the room a little louder than was cautious. “Megan, I have it from here, please don’t interrupt again.”
“But dear, I could,” Megan was interrupted though.
“No, this is my mission. You will not interrupt.” Owen’s voice was poisonous.
“Fine, go ahead dear.” Megan conceded.
Owen couldn’t wait for this mission to be over so he could get back and find out who this awful woman was and get her fired if he possibly could. He crept up to the safe. It was a Brandon Brady Mk III, steel reinforced, with a one minute timing mechanism and allowance for zero errors. Sixty seconds was more than enough time to enter the twelve digit code, even with the three second delay between number selections, but one false digit and it would shut down and set off the alarms.
Owen approached the safe carefully and listened out for any movement. Hearing nothing, he slid across the panel cover to the number pad. The numbers on the number pad were printed in the standard numerical order, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0 but Owen knew that a trick with the Brandon Brady Mk III, was that they were coded either in alphabetical order: 8.5.4.9.1.7.6.3.2.0, or reverse alphabetical order: 0,2,3,6,7,1,9,4,5,8, depending on the request of the buyer. As such, if you had the 12-digit code, but were unaware of the programming, or if you were aware of the programming, but did not know how the owner had chosen, you had, at best, a fifty-fifty chance.
Owen stared at the safe, hoping that the intelligence they had acquired was still accurate. He recited to himself the code he had learned “891326452316. 891326452316. 891326452316.” He started entering the code and the timer began ticking down second by second. “8… eight, that’s a four”. He pressed the button marked “4” and waited for the lights on the console to come on again, three seconds later, they did. “89…Nine, that’s a five.” He pressed the “5” key and waited three seconds again. “891… one, that’s a zero.” He pressed the “0” key. Three seconds felt like an age. “8913… three…, three”. “3” key pressed. Now wait three seconds. “Come on, come on, 89132… two…two.” Wait three seconds. “What’s the next digit? 891326… six”. Owen hovered his finger over the six key.
“Not that button, dear!” Megan interrupted.
“Mynd i uffern, Gwrach-y-Rhibyn!”, Owen cursed, his wrist vibrated again.
“What did you call me?” Megan sounded shocked.
“You keep interrupting, you hag!”, Owen’s frustration spilled out of him, but he was aware of the time pressure. He looked at the timer… 35 seconds left, there was still time. He turned back to the number pad.
“Where was I?, Megan, Megan where was I?”, Owen’s voice rose to panic levels.
“Apologise,” said Megan.
“What?!”
“Apologise for what you said!”
“There’s no time!” The timer was ticking away. 30 seconds left.
“Then you’d better hurry up and apologise, dear!” Megan’s voice was ice.
Owen screamed. His watch vibrated wildly. The security guards on the third floor saw the alarm and rushed out their door.
“That was stupid!” Megan said, they’ll be coming now. Apologise and I’ll tell you the rest of the code, which you could have asked me for at any time, idiot!”
Owen’s fear subdued him. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. Please, what’s the rest of the code?”
Megan’s voice returned to kindly old woman mode and Owen dutifully pressed the buttons. “Thank you dear, it’s 1…6…7…2…3…0…1…” The last digit was entered with two seconds left on the timer.
Owen opened the safe, grabbed the blueprints.
“Now get out of there, up to the roof, quick as you can!”, Megan shouted in his ear.
Owen ran out the door, through the now redundant laser maze, back to the elevator, onto the wince and sped back up the elevator shaft. He would make it.
“Well done, dear. See you back at the base. Megan out.”
Megan turned in her swivel chair to the rest of the room, a band of officers of various ranks awaiting her decision.
“Entirely unsuitable”, she said. “Moderately competent with support, but unsalvagably impatient. Low tiered missions only, I think. Definitely not of Black Dragon calibre. She closed the file in front of her and opened another.
“Who’s next?”
