We Float Upon a Painted Sea (16 page)

“I see you brought your umbrella. Good. Can I borrow it for a moment?” With a baffled look, Patrick handed over the umbrella and watched as his brother withdrew a container from his rucksack. He began spraying the fabric. Patrick protested,

“What are you doing to my brolly? These are hard to come by these days.” When he was satisfied with his work, Bull attached a magnetic clip to the metal shaft of the umbrella and then handed it back to his brother.

“What was all that about?”

“Did you know that
Umbra
is Latin for shadow?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you know that parasol derives from the French
parare
which means to shield?”

“Ok, Faerrleah, no more booze for you.” Bull tried to force a smile as he held the canister up. He whispered,

“This is an electromagnetic spray so what I’m about to tell you can’t be detected by surveillance drones or satellites and this device scrambles sound waves.” Patrick put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and whispered back,

“I need to know one or two things before I allow you to proceed. Has your spray ruined my brolly? Are you going to buy me a new one?” Bull’s face slumped. He said,

“This is serious Patrick. I’ve been lying…”

“I know, you told me about your lie. You told Saffron you were overseeing flood prevention projects around the planet, but you were in actual fact working for the fossil fuel industry.”

“I wanted to tell her...”

“Tell her that in reality you were involved in the methane hydrate extraction and that instead of protecting lives from flooding you were involved in drilling ventures in the Arctic. That you are part of the capitalist system, that you were aiding corporations implicated with accelerating climate change, that you were in part responsible for trampling over vulnerable communities and devastating their environment. Yeah, considering her beliefs, that might have been difficult to explain.”

“I wasn’t advising fossil fuel companies on drilling methods and procedures. I wasn’t even working for them.” Patrick’s face stood to attention.

“I thought you said you were working for some engineering company who kept sending you to the Arctic?”

Bull sat his glass on the table and rubbed the temples of his head.

“This is the lie I’ve been trying to tell you.” Patrick’s face stiffened.

“Go on,” said Patrick peering into Bull’s eyes.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I need to speak to someone. I’m going to go mad by bottling all this up inside.” Bull took a deep breath. Under his brother’s umbrella he felt a strange sensation, like he was inside a makeshift confessional box.

“Go on,” said Patrick, but this time with more force in his voice.

“Do you remember when I got sacked from the BAe Systems for disclosing sensitive information to the Press?” Patrick nodded his head and listened to his brother intently for the first time. “Well,” continued Bull, “It wasn’t sensitive information, it was classified information and I wasn’t sacked, I was convicted and ready to go to prison but I was offered a conditional reprieve.”

“What sensitive, sorry classified information?”

“I can’t tell you. At first they threaten me. They put me in a MoDs prison and wouldn’t allow me access to a lawyer. They said they were going to make me disappear and that it happens all the time. I didn’t budge but then they threatened the family. They showed me surveillance information they had gathered on you, the kids, Dad and Deirdre and said they could destroy your lives over night if I didn’t cooperate.”

“Fuckers. So how did you wriggle out of it?”

“They offered me a deal. I was to work as a Filter for the Defence Intelligence Committee, part of the MoDs. They work out of GCHQ in Cheltenham. I had one job to do and at the time it seemed pretty straightforward. I had to infiltrate the environmental protest movement.” Tears began to well up in Bull’s eyes, but with them came a perverse sense of relief that after years of secrecy and deception he could finally come clean. Bull continued, “They said that some of the groups had links to underground anarchist organisations, which were a threat to national security. I went to a rally on Kelvin Grove and it was there I met Saffron. She was the leader of a protest group but they were relatively minor - a bunch of students and peaceful intellectuals who like to demonstrate, smash up the odd animal testing facility and indulge in the odd bit of graffiti. I wasn’t recalled so I just continued with life, almost forgetting what I was doing. I think I got in way over my head.” There was a moment of silence. Bull looked at Patrick’s confused face, eagerly awaiting his penance. Eventually, Patrick said,

“I don’t know what to say Faerrleah? I don’t know what to believe with you anymore. Are you like an informant? What about the engineering company you have been working for? How do they come into it?”

“This is where it gets really complicated. The Green Movement contacted me through one of Saffron’s friends and asked me to apply for a job as a hydraulic computer modeller. The company is contracted by Gazprom who are drilling for methane hydrate in the Arctic. I got the job and I’ve been manipulating data and supplying them with duff information ever since. We’ve scuppered most of their drilling activities in the Arctic, but it won’t be long before we’re caught out.”

“Impressive. So they just accept everything you say at face value?”

“Fuck no, my findings are verified by other modellers who are also GM people, but even if they find a discrepancy, it delays the process and gives the ELF’s enough time to arrange a sabotage operation.” Patrick scratched his head. He said,

“Are you on medication Faerrleah? Who are the ELF’s?”

“The Earth Liberation Front.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Nobody has heard of them because every attack they carry out on gas pipelines or rigs are blamed on Islamic State or Al-kabab or whatever.”

“It’s Al-Shabaab. You’re not very good at this are you Faerrleah?”

“It’s close to lunchtime and I’ve sunk a few lagers - get off my case. They are the military wing of the GM but it’s always denied. Most of them are ex-military who have become disillusioned with the system. They’re not the type of people to be messed with. They are very secretive – very well funded and impossible to penetrate. A few Filters tried and have never been seen again.”

“Does Saffron know what you have been up to?”

“No. I wanted to tell her but it might have put her at risk.” Patrick scratched the side of his head. His face was contorted and his eyes darted around from side to side as if looking for something to settle on. Finally, he said,

“What are your real employers going to say about your extra curriculum activities?” 

“There was no remit other than being involved with the GM. I had carte blanche to do as I wanted.”

“Hence the pony tail, earrings and tattoos? And I thought you were having a midlife crisis. So what is the end game? I take it your employers don’t come round one day, rap on your door, sit you down and ask you some questions over a nice pot of tea?” Bull grimaced,

“They use a FMRI – a brain scan. In the original briefing I was told to
go deep
, it didn’t matter how or what I did, only that I penetrated them.”

“I think you’ve been doing your fair share of penetrating for king and country, Faerrleah.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Patrick. I didn’t ask for this.”

“Fuck me
Faerrleah! How the hell did you get yourself trapped in this web? Why would you introduce her to the family if you were a Filter, isn’t that a bit of a dumb thing to do, or were you penetrating us too? What about this conversation, will that come out in the brain scan?” Bull rubbed his temple lobes with his forefingers. He said,

“I’m sorry, I really am, but contact with family members was part of the procedure. In the past, when the Metropolitan Police used to infiltrate anarchist groups, their informants all had the same profile – they were only children or orphans with no friends or family. They had no baggage, so no way of being traced, but most of them eventually got sniffed out.”

“That was wrong Faerrleah - you shouldn’t have got your family involved. You might have put us at risk.”

“You were all already at risk. I’m sorry I lied to the family. I’m sorry I lied to her. I should have told her but I was afraid of losing her. It’s a big fucking mess. I wish I could explain to her how I feel.”

“Fuck how she feels Faerrleah. It’s one thing lying to her but you’ve dragged the family into it because you sold secrets to...”

“I didn’t try to sell secrets Patrick. I came across something unethical, something morally reprehensible. I had to do something.” Patrick huffed. He wiped raindrops from his head and said,

“Well my brolly is well and truly fucked, that much is certain. These old things are hard to come by.”

“I’ll get you a new one on eBay, I promise.”

“So everything has been a big lie and you think she might have found out? She lives in a twilight world, on the fringes of society, but we have jobs and livelihoods that could be ruined if the secret service seeks to punish you in some way. Is sabotaging drilling activities and disclosing it to your brother in a Glasgow beer garden part of the contract? I hope you are right, for all our sakes.”

Bull looked around the rain sodden beer garden to make sure nobody was listening. Finally, he said,

“The strangest thing, it started off as a lie, but I started to believe in what she believes. She’s converted me.” Patrick looked at the green covenanter bracelet on his brother’s wrist. He said,

“Is she an eco-terrorist? Is she one of these ELF’s?” Bull’s eyes flashed. He shook his head, saying,

“No, she’s totally opposed to violence. I can’t for life of me comprehend why she would be of interest to the Government anyway. As far as I could see into her life, she’s just a hedge monkey. She was like a door - the way in to their world, that’s all. I got connected with the GM through her contacts and it was they who got me the engineering job in the Arctic.” Patrick took a deep breath and said,

“It’s like what Mam used to say, if you tell a lie you need to tell another to cover it up then another lie to cover that one.”

“Dad used to say, why tell the truth when a lie may fit, but I think he was just winding me up.”

“So what are you going to do – resign?”

“It doesn’t work like that. I wish it did.” Patrick looked at his watch and then said,

“To be honest I don’t know what to say. It’s a big fucking mess – this situation with the line of work you are in.”

Bull clutched his empty beer tankard, gazing at the distorted image of his sodden boots through the dimpled glass. Patrick said,

“Look, I need to go. I’m going to be late for my meeting and I haven’t bought a respirator yet. I hate the city life!”

“Here, you can borrow mine, I won’t need it.” Bull passed him his respirator. Patrick stared at him critically and then he took a call on his Shackle. Finally, he said,

“That was work. The meeting has been cancelled. Apparently the riot has spread to the city centre and they are evacuating staff.”

“Do you need a place to stay?” said Bull, “There’s plenty of room at mine.” Patrick downed the last of his whisky and said,

“I’m going to head back to Cheshire and make sure the kids are safe. Will you be alright? Get out of the rain, you'll get pneumonia again.”

“Oh, you know me, I’ll get by.”

“You always do Faerrleah, nothing seems to get you, not pneumonia, meningitis or even falling three storeys from a building and nearly braking every bone in your body. You always get back up, you're a survivor. Laters brother.”

“Yeah, laters.”

Patrick patted his brother on the back and left him sitting alone in the rain. By late afternoon Bull was drunk. He left the pub and staggered back along the cycle path to the narrowboat at Maryhill Locks. In the distance, he saw a girl with long black hair cycling on the moorings. He ran towards the bridge and then down the stairs and stood, blocking her way. As she drew closer he realised it wasn’t Saffron. The girl drew him a strange look then threatened him with a mace spray, if he didn’t step out of her way. When she passed, he stood in silence for a while and then returned home, banging his head on the companionway as he descended through the hatch door. He searched the narrowboat room by room, desperately hoping that Saffron had returned. She hadn’t.

Chapter 12: The road to redemption

2036. 9 months earlier

The following day, Bull sat on a tombstone recalling his first visit to the Necropolis. Later he climbed to the summit and stopped at the bench where he and Saffron would sit and talk.  He lit a cigarette and stared over the city. On the ground he lost count of the blue flashing lights from emergency service vehicles, but his gaze centred to the east where military drones circled a tower block which was engulfed in flames. A distant scream sent a shiver down his spine. He wondered if it was an urban fox or a woman in distress. He sat down on the damp wooden seat, out of breath from the uphill walk and watched a child and her father struggle with a kite in the robust wind. Considering the unfolding carnage in the background, it was a strange image, he thought.