CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #2
“Oh, they’re using Dazlr cream. It’s very sophisticated tech, rub it on and it makes your face unreadable on CCTV. Its use tells me we’re not dealing with amateurs.”
The men walked behind us for a few paces then each man moved in and placed something over our mouths. After a short struggle our bodies went limp, and the men dragged us backward to their vehicle.
Watching the video was chilling. We were abducted off a populated street in the middle of a European capital city in less than a minute. “Did anyone report this to the local police?”
“No.”
Seeing the event from a different view was shocking.
I was able to witness how Nate had reacted, how he’d struggled, fought his captor, and reached out for me before the chloroform took effect.
Something about his actions, of how his main concern was for me made my heart flutter in a way I’d never felt before.
I was overwhelmed by the need to see him, make sure he was okay, to hold him.
The only way to make that happen faster was to answer Agent D’s questions.
“We went out dancing,” I began. “On the way back to our hotel, as you saw, we were abducted. Those men drugged us, roughed us up a little, questioned us,” I said unbuttoning my white shirt cuffs, pulling back the sleeves and holding my wrists up to display the rings of mottled bruised skin from the cable ties.
“See! They locked us in cabin on a ship hotel in a dry dock.”
“Can you tell me anything about the men who abducted you?”
“Um…not much. My memory’s fuzzy. Oh yeah—” I said at a flash of memory, “One had swallows on his right forearm.”
Agent D’s brow hitched and he couldn’t repress a smirk.
“The birds, not the word!” I clarified with a laugh.
“Do you know the location of this ship hotel?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s at the Grey Pike marina in Spandau.”
Deveraux nodded, opened what looked like an intranet chat interface on the tablet, and typed a message. Then he quizzed, “What do you think this was, a celebrity kidnap for ransom? Maybe a homophobic attack?”
“What?” I exclaimed in alarm. “No, no, it wasn’t like that.
It’s got nothing to do with the fact were gay.
The men, they wanted information…and I guess we didn’t know the answers,” I insisted.
“Look,” I said exasperated. “You deal with secrets and lies every day. But this is just…crazy! We’ve been pulled into some kind of international espionage bollocks, and it’s not on!
” I blurted petulantly. “I’m supposed to be on holiday! ”
“What reason do you think you’re involved in international espionage?”
“Jesus Christ! We’ve been followed ever since we landed in Berlin…and whoever it is, they’re not paparazzi,” I exclaimed.
“Who’s following you?”
“Well, Hugh bloody Jorgen for a start…and he’s had men following him as well…they scared the shit out of the guy!”
A brow cocked in amusement, Deveraux asked, “You’re talking about a person? Who is this…Hugh Jorgen?”
“He a waiter…we’ll, that’s what I just found out. He told Nate he was a delegate at the tech security conference, but he’s not. He was paid to follow us to plant something on Nate,” I babbled.
Deveraux’s brows knitted and he held a halting hand up. “Okay, okay, hold on a sec, I’m a little confused,” he admitted.
“You saw me in the foyer at the tech security event. Why were you there?” I demanded. Was Agent Deveraux watching us too? How much did he really know about what was going on? I opened the Gatorade and took a long drink.
“My particular role at the conference is top secret! You understand the nature of the conference, yes? We have delegates from the UK, important people—MPs, military specialists, and the secret intelligence service is, naturally, in attendance. Why were you there?”
“I told you! I was trying to find him, Hugh Jorgen!” It felt like I was speaking in a language Agent D couldn’t understand. I’d need to break the information down into bite sized chunks.
“Look, a Swedish man named Hugh Jorgen checked into the hotel…the Adler Kandinski, at the same time as us. I’d reserved two suites…
his booking was messed up and the hotel’s full so we let him take one of our rooms. He told Nate he was a delegate at the conference, but then he kept popping up everywhere we went.
He’s in the background of photos I took in Tiergarten, check my phone,” I urged.
“You’ll see him behind us in loads of the shots, and you’ll also see the same two Chinese men are following him too.
” I was frustrated now. The sympathetic way Agent Deveraux was looking at me…
it was as if he didn’t believe me. “They were always there, same two guys…right behind him. Go on, get my phone, and look!” I exclaimed.
I felt like we were going around in circles. Why didn’t Agent Deveraux believe me?
“And did you find this mysterious Mr. Jorgen at the event venue?”
“Yeah, I found him. He told me an American man, grey hair; silver beard, approached him at an AI start-up event he was working at the Berlin Institute of Technology. He made him an offer he couldn’t refuse—ten thousand Euros to follow Nate and me, and then plant something on Nate.”
“Okay, okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Jack! You went dancing on a Monday, yes? There aren’t that many venues open on a Monday. Tell me about this club.”
“It’s on Prenzlauer Alee. When we paid our entry fee the doorman put this cool stamp on my hand.
” I turned my hand over to display the back, “Its wild, the ink has this biomarker that changes colour when it detects particular drugs in your system. It’s supposed to warn customers if they get spiked, clever eh!
” I said impressed by this new technology that could make clubbing a lot safer. “That’s how we knew we’d been roofied.”
Agent Deveraux’s expression changed then. He took hold of my hand and studied the stamp. His eyes widened. “You went to SODA?”
“Yes?” I said a little confused by his tone.
“Do you know what SODA is?”
My brows knitted in confusion, what the hell was he on about? “Um… it’s a conscious club, no booze, no drugs?” I hedged.
“Jack,” Deveraux sighed as if dealing with a clueless child.
“As you’re very much in the soup, it seems pointless to keep this information from you.
SODA stands for Secure Observation Data Alliance.
The SODA brand has clubs in all European cities, and a few in the US too.
On the surface it’s a dance club brand, but the reality is, there's a section of the intelligence and investigative community who are worried about powerful technologies being controlled by a handful of billionaires.”
“What? I don’t understand!”
“The spy-game isn’t trench coats and dead drops anymore.
There’s a global high-tech chess match in progress.
Whoever leads the way in AI chips, biotech, and energy tech will be the ones to affect the balance of worldwide power for decades.
Every technology we’ve previously relied upon is open to being systematically compromised.
And so, some operatives are using the clubs as meeting places for face-to-face Intel delivery with assets, and investigative journalists.
They have a high-tech signal jammer and inhibit facial recognition. ”
“We went to a spy club? Are you taking the piss?”
“Honestly, I’m surprised they let you through the door!
Do you think drug biomarker ink is something that can be found at your local Staples?
It’s sophisticated, expensive technology.
The use of that ink should have been the first warning sign that you were stepping into a world in which you do not belong,” Deveraux scolded.
“I…I didn’t know,” I spluttered.
“Now your life and that of your boyfriend are in danger from...well, I have some ideas, but I’ll have to run this information up the chain.”
“Nate’s not officially my boyfriend…well, yet,” I said, embarrassed by the sound of my own voice. Agent Deveraux held up a hand to silence me.
“What did Hugh Jorgen pass on to Nate at SODA?” Agent Deveraux asked.