Chapter 8: Troubleshooting

Monday morning I got to Ms Summerville’s desk, carrying my holdall, just before eight, having already deposited my list of questions for Pervis Shah on Ms Altropolina’s desk.

“Good morning, Michael,” said Ms Summerville. “I’m afraid none of the taxi companies have a driver prepared to carry you all the way without several days’ notice, not even Handsome Cabs. That leaves two options. Either I drive you myself - although it’s such a long journey I’d have to stay overnight and drive back tomorrow - or you can go by train. That would mean taking a a shuttle train to the city terminus, then a cross-country train, which would be slow but get you to a station within taxi range of the office. Your choice.”

Ms Summerville looked tired, which wasn’t a good recommendation. And to have someone as important to the company as she was take two days to drive such a long way and then back the next day would not be in the best interests of the company. Besides, once on the cross-country train, I could switch off and contemplate my Jardine problem.

“Train please. I could do with the alone time.”

Ms Summerville looked relieved. “In that case, I’ll drive you to the station. There’s a shuttle train to the city at eight forty five, which means you can catch the half past nine cross-country train, getting to your destination about half past one.”

Ms Summerville had a company car and she was a very safe driver, keeping her attention on the rush-hour traffic rather than trying to make idle chit-chat. She advised me to get receipts for everything I spent until I got back, and then she would sort out my expense claim for me.

When Ms Summerville was depositing me at the station, she said she’d go straight back to the office and let Secure Services know I was on my way and that they would need to book accommodation for me.

I found I had fifteen minutes to buy a ticket and get to the right platform. There weren’t any ticket options at rush-hour so I bought a single to the city terminus. There were only two platforms, to the city and from the city, so finding the right platform wasn’t a problem.

The shuttle train was packed, with no seats free so I had to stand all the way. The carriage was filthy, but at least the train ran to schedule and got me to the city terminus in plenty of time to buy my ticket and find the right platform. This time there were options available and I chose an open-ended return with reserved seating on the outward journey.

I had plenty of time before the cross-country train left so I tracked down a sandwich shop outside the station concourse and bought some sandwiches and soft drinks for the journey. When I got back, my train had just arrived at its platform ready for boarding. I had made the right decision in getting a reserved seat because the train was packed.

The train left on time. By the time it had left the outskirts of the city, the number of passengers had diminished appreciably and there was no longer anyone sitting next to me. I let myself switch off to contemplate my situation with Jardine.

My biggest problem was that I was unable to decipher whatever signals she was sending me. Did she have feelings for me, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate? Did she think we were in a relationship? Where would she do her MA? If not at the local university, would she want to keep in touch with me? She seemed to have no problem sticking her tongue down my throat by way of greeting, yet she worried I was becoming fixated with her. Holding hands as I walked her back to her hall of residence last night felt more intimate than all the sex we’d had.

Shortly after midday my insoluble problem was interrupted by hunger pangs and I tucked into my sandwiches. The number of passengers had waxed and waned throughout the journey, but as the train neared my destination the numbers picked up again.

The train reached my destination a few minutes late. Very few passengers alighted, so I wasn’t expecting much competition for taxis. But outside the station, there weren’t any. I went back in the station and asked a man in a railway uniform how to get a taxi. He directed me to a telephone inside the booking office that was a free, direct connection to a local cab company.

The phone was answered immediately. I was asked for my destination and my name, then I was told a cab would be outside with five minutes. That estimate was correct, and the cab deposited me outside the CornerStone Secure Services Division just before two. I remembered to ask for a receipt.

The building’ main entrance had a door with an entry keypad, but it had a ‘reception’ button. I pressed it.

“Hello, Cornerstone Secure Services Division. How may I help you?”

“My name’s Michael Turner. I believe I’m expected.”

“One moment please.” There was a wait of a couple of minutes before the squawk box spoke again. “Okay, you’re on the list. I’ll buzz you in, but you’ll have to wait in reception for someone to collect you.”

There came a buzzing sound and I heard the click as the door unlocked. I pulled the handle and the door opened.

The lobby had a desk labelled ‘Reception’, manned by a man wearing a black security guard’s uniform bearing a name badge showing ‘Clive’.

“Michael Turner?” he asked.

I nodded and showed him my Cornerstone ID Card.

Clive nodded. “Please sign the register,” he said, indicating the visitors’ log.

I filled out my name, listing my contact details as the CornerStone office where I worked: I didn’t feel comfortable listing my home address.

Clive checked what I had written then said, “Please take a seat. Someone will be out to meet you shortly.” Then when I had sat down he asked, “Are you planning to take that inside?” and indicated my holdall.

“If that’s a problem, I’d be happy to leave it somewhere safe. It doesn’t contain anything work-related, only contains clothes and stuff for the week.”

“I can store it in the security office for you, and you can collect it on your way out. That would be easier than rooting through your unmentionables. Everything a visitor wants to take past reception has to be examined. They take security very seriously here.”

I handed my holdall to Clive and he took it into a back office, for which he had to use a key-card.

He had no sooner returned to his desk when a woman wearing a blue uniform and a name badge showing ‘Chemmy’ came through a door into reception.

“Michael Turner?” she asked, holding out her hand for a shake. “I’m Chemmy.” She pronounced it ‘Shemmy’.

We shook hands.

“I’ve been appointed your bodyguard and jailer,” said Chemmy. “Since you haven’t been vetted, I’ve been tasked with watching your every move while you’re in this building. I’ve also been tasked with trying to obtain whatever you need to do your stuff. I’ve got an office for you, but all it’s got is a load of documentation and a computer that isn’t connected to anything.”

“That’s a good start,” I said. “Lead the way.”

“One moment,” said Clive. “I need to check you for any recording equipment. Is it okay to pat you down?”

“Okay.”

At least Clive tried to be gentle and unintrusive.”

“He’s clean,” said Clive to Chemmy afterwards.

Chemmy led me through a different door from the one through which she had entered. There was a single corridor to the left with no doors leading from it until it turned ninety degrees to the right, after which there were offices at regular intervals along the left hand side. Chemmy stopped and used her key-card to enter the first office. “You could say these are the guest offices. They’re for the use of visitors but they’re outside the most secure area.”

The office was as Chemmy had said. Three chairs, a desk, a computer that wasn’t even plugged in and some bookshelves containing ring-binders.

“Do you need anything before you start?” Chemmy asked.

“A trip to the toilet and a coffee please.”

“Toilet first,” said Chemmy. “I’ll have to escort you and wait outside the door.”

She led me further along the corridor and there was an open area right at the end containing a couple of unisex toilets, a snack machine and a drinks machine.

I went into one of the unisex toilets, made my deposit and washed my hands. Sure enough, Chemmy was waiting outside.

“You could get a coffee from the machine,” she said. “Its only redeeming feature is that it’s free. Or I can shut you in your prison cell and get some of the good stuff from inside the high security area. Your choice.”

“I’d prefer the good stuff, please.”

Chemmy escorted me back to the office. “You can leave the office in an emergency because there’s a manual control,” she explained once we were inside, “but if you leave the door propped open, security will be notified. And if you close the door behind you, you won’t be able to get back in without a key-card.” With that warning, Chemmy left to get me a good coffee, shutting the door firmly behind her.

I started with the ring binders. They contained the specs for the system CornerStone was writing for the Ministry of Defence. I made myself comfortable and started to read.

A few minutes later, Chemmy arrived bearing two coffees, one for me and one for herself. She appropriated one of the other chairs.

“So you’re the boy wonder who’s going to fix all the problems,” she observed, and not in a complimentary way.

I decided to set her straight. “Whoever told you that didn’t know what they were talking about. I have Asperger’s. That means I’m more single-minded and focused than most people but I can’t do anything they couldn’t do themselves if they put the effort in.”

I paused before continuing. “I’m here because of company politics. The people I work for will get extra credit with Ludo Moravcec for persuading me to come. But it’s a fools’ errand. Since I am not allowed to see the Ministry of Defence data that exposed the problem, my chances of being able to make a positive contribution are slim to none. I could sit here twiddling my thumbs all week without any consequences but I want to do right by CornerStone so I’m going to try my best. I’m going to start by reading these system specs from cover to cover so I suggest you get a book to read otherwise you’re going to be bored out of your skull.”

“Okay,” said Chemmy, and with that I was left in silence to read the specs.

From the overview, it seemed like a straightforward logistics system, only very wide ranging and all-encompassing. Two hours had passed by the time I’d absorbed the structural overview and finished the first ring binder and my bladder was starting to complain.

“May I have a toilet break and a coffee refill please?” I asked, making Chemmy start because she had been staring blankly into space.

After a trip to the loo, Chemmy shut me in again while she went to fetch more coffee and presumably empty her own bladder.

By the time she returned, I was well into the second ring binder. As well as the coffees, Chemmy had brought with her a local newspaper to read.

As gently as I could, I tapped Chemmy’s shoulder.

“What, uh, where?” she said, disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings as she woke up. “Fuckity fuck! I fell asleep. I could be sacked for that.” Then, “What’s the time?” she asked sleepily.

“Three o’clock.”

“It can’t be. It was after that when I last checked my watch.”

“Three o’clock in the morning.”

“Fuckity fuckity fuck! Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I was engrossed in the specs. I reckon I’m about halfway through and it seemed like a good finishing point for the night. What I want now is to get my holdall back from security, get something to eat, then retire to wherever has been booked for me for the night.”

“Don’t you know where that is?” asked Chemmy.

“No. Heidi Summerville told me it would all be sorted at this end.

“Fuckity fuckity fuckity fuck! I have no idea where they might have booked you and I don’t know who to ask at this time of night.”

Then Chemmy noticed all the extra coffee cups on the desk.