Home to roost
"You may not be aware, but we have been stealthily monitoring you, and we would like to procure your services"...he loomed over me with one of those fox like smiles, that reciprocated an equally deceit laden smile back.
"You see, we have some very sensitive work that requires a very steady hand at the helm. One that can balance moral outcomes with goal achievement. Be impervious to the pleas of inconsequential characters, while seemingly supporting their cause"
I was a little taken aback. I thought my sweep for the boss's, bugs and surveillance devices had been steadfastly comprehensive, but this GCHQ goon was saying not. Must try harder in future. For now, I'll just play along and see if I can dig a little deeper.
"Well. This is a very complicated and devious world we live in, and I for one like to tread lightly and carefully through it, so you will not be surprised if I ask you to prove your credentials" he immediately reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flicking it open revealed an impressive looking photocard, suitably embossed with MI5 insignia. "Err. No. I mean something a bit more convincing and less forgeable"
He again reached into his jacket and pulled out a hand gun. "Whoa! I'll be more specific shall I, before it gets so far that you whip out your government issue M&S underpants. I want you to point out the devices you have been bugging me with, because that, more than anything else in the world, is really bugging me. Literally, bugging me. And if you can do that, then I'll be satisfied that you are who you say you are, and we can then move this conversation forward.
He glanced around the room, eyes darting across my desk and along the cupboards. I got the impression that he hadn't a clue, and I had caught him out. I wasn't being bugged at all, and this was just a shakedown. Probably based on hearsay and the many corpses bound up with LAN cable that find their way to the local dump. All of which I had carefully sanitised with screen cleaner, or never touched at all, in my attempts to de-DNA my victims.
"Ah! Here we go". He pointed to an innocuous coffee jar and then proceeded to unscrew the top, to reveal a coffee jar lid?
"Err, that's a coffee jar lid"
"Well yes, the whole point of covert surveillance is that you haven't the first idea it is happening". He took out a penknife and gouged at one of the edges. Looked intensely at the bit of plastic it had revealed, then gouged some more.
"Here, look at this" The goon took out his mobile and activated what I guess was a microscope app, and focussed it on the lid. "You see that. It's a very, very small microphone, with a tiny power cell, and transmitter" Myself, having something of a history with such things, but never at this scale immediately identified the components and I went pale. The blood had drained to my feet, and I was almost paralysed. Every crime I had committed is probably fully documented on a GCHQ server somewhere, and I could be reeled in on a whim. Oh my God!
"Now don't panic. After all, we're set to be partners, and partners look out for each other"
I was too much in shock to reply. My world and everything in it had just become a toxic mess. I felt sick..,.No, I am going to be sick, and I fell towards the waste-paper bin, my legs incapable of even rudimentary stumbling. Breakfast and lunch was launched into the basket and I remained hunched over it, with no regard for events unfolding behind me.
"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you..." What the fuck is happening? Where have all these people come from?
"Happy birthday dear BOFH, Happy birthday to you"
In that adrenalin fuelled moment I made out the IT team, the boss, and a few others. Some of whom I had shared some figuratively back-scratching moments with and other's I had ground into the dust, figuratively of course. Not the one's I had literally ground into dust. Although I think that would be more preferable, as that would most likely mean that this is a nightmare I can wake up from.
PFY hopped over, unsuitably attired with a Cheshire cat grin "We didn't think you would appreciate a strippergram, so we came up with something more in your style. Happy birthday BOFH"
"You bastard. You absolute bastard. So the coffee jar isn't bugged?"
The MI5 operative chirped up "I was told to make it convincing The microscope app was just a video of a real covert device, and I'm just an actor trying to stay alive"
"hahaha..." Not one of my most convincing laughs, but it would suffice. "PFY, you couldn't help me to the toilet could you, my legs are still like jelly"
As we left the room I turned and locked the door behind us. My eyes pierced into the PFY's "This is all your fault, and these bodies are all your responsibility"
My hand punched at the fire alarm next to the door and the hissing of Halon gas could just be distinguished over the drone of the klaxon.