THE SPIDER’S WEB Ch 1

THE SPIDER’S WEB

By Bob French

CHAPTER ONE

    Adrien Benoit stood with the sound engineer in the gods of the conference hall of Le Richemond Hotel, probably the best hotel in Switzerland.  He was dressed in a grubby set of overalls and carried a toolbox which he had borrowed from one of the engineers, now sleeping in a cupboard deep in the basement of the hotel.  Up until five years ago Benoit had been a Sergeant Major in the 2^nd Paratroop Regiment of the French Foreign Legion, and with months to go before his discharge, his Commandant had arranged an interview for him. 

     

    Within a few days he had been flown to Lyon in France and been interviewed by the director of the DGSE, the French equivalent of the British MI6.  Benoit felt that he didn’t trust the Director, a man who had Moroccan features.  Since then he had undergone a little training and undertaken several secret missions and was now considered a capable DGSE agent.

    The conference hall started to fill up and he began to recognize several of the dignitaries who made their way to the top table.  His mind went back to the briefing he’d received from Le Director before he was assigned.

   ‘We are informed that certain political parties throughout the world had purchased the services of the Cyber Intelligence Section of the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, the SVR, to fix their voting mechanisms so that during 2019 and 20, those parties who favoured taking direct action to remedy the Climate Change were voted into power.  London and Langley tell us that there is going to be a meeting in Switzerland of some of the leaders who now form the power base behind this new Climate Change Initiative.  The President is very concerned.  I want you to infiltrate the meeting, find out what they are up to and report back to me, and try not to kill anyone.’

    

   The sound engineer sat back as the first speaker started.  He caught Benoit’s eye and nodded towards a set of earphones, then ignored him as he took out a cigarette and stared at his instruments.  Benoit listened as those present began making suggestions at what steps should be taken.  There were a number of suggestions surrounding culling; doctors terminating those over eighty who had any form of illness, or the elimination of all residents in care homes.  No one mentioned the Russian Cyber section’s involvement in their rise to fame.

  Suddenly the sound engineer stood and looked at Benoit, then nodded towards the clock on the wall; it was lunchtime.  Benoit moved to the glass window to watch the exodus of the delegates.  His attention was drawn to two men who, instead of making a rush for the food, had remained seated and were deep in conversation. The bald-headed man seemed to be on edge as he accepted a note from the other man.  He recognised them both as being of a far eastern origin and decided to follow the bald-headed man.

   As Benoit rushed down the back stairs he saw the bald man making for the bank of phones in the foyer. Without looking around, the man slipped into the end booth. Benoit quietly stepped into the next booth.  His grasp of Chinese, from his days in Vietnam, was fair to poor but he recognised Flamenco Restaurant and eight of the clock. Before the man had finished his conversation, Benoit had vanished into the crowd.

  He spent the next three hours studying the restaurant, looking at access and escape points, front and back. When he glanced through the restaurant window, the place looked fairly empty.

  His taxi dropped him off outside the restaurant at seven forty-five and he waited in the shadows for the bald man to arrive.  Whilst he waited he became aware that he was being watched.  He had acquired the feeling before and his senses had never let him down.  He waited in the Shadows until a minute before eight when a taxi pulling up outside the restaurant.  The bald man quickly stepped out and marched into the restaurant without looking back.  Benoit casually walked across the road, glanced in the window, then strolled into the restaurant.  He had seen where the bald man had sat, so when he was asked where he wanted to sit, Benoit told him he would like to sit by the window.  This put him next to the bald man’s table.

   He ordered a drink and waited.  Ten minutes later a squat looking man came in wearing the North Korean lapel badge and made a bee-line for the bald man’s table.  Benoit guessed that the two were not going to speak English so had discretely set up the listening device Philippe, from Q Branch, had given him; A small and very sensitive tape machine that snugly fit into a used packet of Lucky Strike cigarettes that he left discarded on his table.

            He was just finishing his Schnitzel when there was a loud crash; the lights went out; the room quickly filled with a cloud of smoke that stung his eyes.  In the dim light from the street lamps he saw the figure of a very attractive woman quickly step forward, shoot the bald man in the head, lean across, pick up his packet of Lucky Strike, and vanish into the panic of the restaurant.

(To be continued)

Copyright Bob French