The Three R's Pt. 02

The pings reappeared. They seemed to have stopped near where the river crossed the North Circular Road. Catherine left her system recording the pings and their location and went to find a coffee. By the time she returned the pings were on the move again. This time more quickly. The individual was obviously in a vehicle. They seemed to stop in Victoria.

There was something rather pleasing about being able to visualise exactly where this man was and when, the software drawing a little trail across the map linking the pings with a thin dotted line. Equally Catherine felt amused that the man had no idea he was being tracked; that she knew his whereabouts while he knew nothing of her.

Catherine mentioned the results of her exercise the next morning in the daily briefing.

Aileen McConaghy was pleased that the system was proving so effective. "And where did you say the pings finished up? Victoria?"

"Yes, Cumberland Street."

"I wonder why that doesn't surprise me," Aileen said cryptically. "Good job. And a good call on letting him run, I think. We knew that at least one of the team that broke into the ExCel Centre got clear. Circumstantially it looks like it's this laddie."

"Do we need to do anything about Cumberland Street?"

"No, that's fine. Just let me know if your target goes on the move again any time soon. You don't have any MAMBO data for him, do you?"

Catherine shook her head. "No but I don't think I'd expect a committed male-rights campaigner to fitted with one, do you?"

"No," Aileen said. "It was just wishful thinking. There are some persuasive sponsors out there."

Catherine smiled. "Perhaps we should get DOSA to step up encouragement for fitting SAID control devices?"

"I think that will come soon enough. The Government has been wary of making them compulsory but if there are more incidents like the ExCel Centre then I can see some of the more enthusiastic party members will start agitating."

Catherine was pleased with herself. The faceless, nameless male had been tracked. They knew where he was. They would know if he moved again. It looked like the tracking and data analysis techniques her team had developed were working well. She felt she owed herself a treat. An evening at the Club Regina seemed in order.

Chapter 22: Return to Eire

Norm wasn't sure just when he started feeling that actually he was going to make it back to Sligo. He was nervous all the way from the train to the check in desk and through airport security. There were MCF officers patrolling the departure hall. Their body protectors were enough to disguise any womanly charms that they might have, even if New Order's Respect Agenda decreed such speculations were off limits.

Once through passport control the "women only" and "men only when accompanied" signs disappeared and Norm suddenly felt more comfortable.

There were women with leashed men in the departure lounge but they were the exception. Mostly where couples were travelling together the man was tagging along, obviously waiting on whatever their woman wanted. A couple were sitting on the chairs across the aisle from Norm. The woman leant over and said something to the man and without a reply he scuttled off towards one of the shops in the departure lounge, returning moments later with a magazine for the woman. There were even a few unaccompanied men like himself. Presumably they were others travelling on foreign passports although, Norm thought, probably theirs were genuine.

Only at one point did he start to feel nervous again. Two Border Force officers, their uniforms identical to MCF officers apart from their pale blue epaulettes, came striding purposefully across the lounge. Whatever they were intent on it didn't include Norm, he was glad to realise. The two, chatting together, disappeared into one of the rooms off the lounge marked "Airport Personnel Only".

"Passengers travelling on Ryan Air flight 204 to Dublin are asked to board through Gate 17," the tannoy announced and Norm folded his newspaper as casually as he could, got to his feet and walked as slowly as he could towards the gate.

His sense of relief increased as he got to the plane to see a smiling flight attendant welcoming him. He was suddenly aware that almost every woman he had seen over the last few days had seemed to be scowling at him personally. Fuck, Norm thought, they've go what they wanted, they're running the place, at least they could look like they are happy about it.

He sat down, happy to have a window seat, but the flight was busy and soon two women arrived to take the seats alongside him. They looked to be business types, in their mid-twenties, conservative tailored suits, off on some sales trip or other, Norm supposed. On any other occasion he'd have been pleased at the prospect of being in a confined space wedged up against two attractive girls, but right now, the last thing he wanted was to be drawn into conversation or to say something inadvertent that might draw attention to himself. He stared resolutely out of the window, so much so that the flight attendant had to ask him twice to fasten his seat belt before he realised she was talking to him.

A moment or two later, the girl sitting in the aisle seat reached up and pressed the attendant call button, The same smiling uniformed woman returned and the two had a girl by the aisle whispered something to her.

"No, I'm sorry, madam," the flight attendant responded, "we don't have an 'unaccompanied men' section on the flight. We're an Irish carrier, you see."

"Well, BA have them. Don't you think you should if you're flying from the UK?"

"I'm sorry madam, I'll pass on your comments but there's nothing I can do, I'm afraid. I hope it doesn't disturb your flight."

Norm turned and smiled benignly at the woman in the aisle seat. She scowled. He sat back to enjoy the flight. He was glad to be getting back to Ireland.

He spent the flight wondering what he would tell Danny about how things were in the UK. He'd been encouraged that there were people trying to do something about the New Order tyranny but the ExCel Centre project had been a failure and the speed with which Gerry had legged it didn't give Norm the impression of the sort of leadership that would be needed to make real changes. He hadn't seen enough of Spencer Hames to know if he was going to graduate from talk to action. Jack seemed willing enough but the only one leading him on was Daisy as far as Norm could tell.

The flight was an hour late landing which was some achievement on a flight that should have only taken an hour and a quarter anyway, Norm thought. It took more time to get the plane onto a gate.

Standing outside the international arrivals at Dublin gate at Dublin Airport was a dark haired girl carrying a sign, saying "O'Neill". She was woman in her mid thirties wearing denim dungarees and a plaid shirt. She had a fresh open face, freckled beneath a messy thatch of ginger hair. Norm thought things were definitely looking up.

It took Norm a moment to remember that was the name he was travelling under. "I'm O'Neill," he said to the girl.

"Sure you are," the girl said, "and I'm Molly Malone. Danny said to pick you up. You're late."

Norm lost what patience he had remaining after the last few days. "Do you have to be so frosty? To be honest, I've had enough of aggressive bitches for the past few days in England and if that's all you can manage, I can always take the bus."

The girl looked apologetic. "Sorry. Let's start again. I'm Patsy."

"Sure you are," Norm smiled. "Terence O'Neill -- or that's what its says on my passport so it will probably do for now. Are we heading back to Sligo? To be honest I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing that sitting in the Pride of Éireann and downing a few Bushmills."

"In that case, 'Mr O'Neill', perhaps we'd better be off."

The two of them set off to find Patsy's car for the two and a half hour drive. Norm was looking forward to some peace and relaxation.

Chapter 23: Disruption in the Detention Centre

A group of three inmates at the ExCel Detention Centre was standing and waiting apprehensively in the centre's workshop. The detention regime envisaged that inmates would carry out useful work and learn skills that would help them re-integrate into society. This seemed to mainly involve learning how to make uniforms for the prison staff using the banks of sewing machines lined up on the tables. The lucky ones got to stitch skirts -- straight-ish seams and hems even if it was black thread with black cloth. Less lucky and you worked on the shirts; much more fiddly and white thread on white cloth. Still less lucky and you were stitching leather belts by hand which was hard work and hard on the fingers too.

"Hello boys. I thought we should have a chat after that silly business yesterday." One of the warders was standing with two of her colleagues. She was weighing a riot control baton in her hand as if she was really hoping for an excuse to put it to use. "And you three always seem to know what is going on around here."

"No, I don't think we knew anything about that, Ma'am." Hugh had long since learned that a respectful response reduced the risk of trouble. "It was as big a surprise to us as it was to you when the wall came in." The other two nodded their agreement.

"Are you really sure about that, Hugh?" the warder was standing behind him, pushing the tip of her riot baton up against his arse. "I mean, really, really sure."

She had her lips close to his ear, he thought she might lean forward and bite. He could smell tobacco on her breath. He was dying for a cigarette. Tobacco was like gold dust in the Centre. He wondered what he could do to get some; what she might make him do if she knew he wanted some. The effect on his cock was unwanted. He could feel it stiffen at the thought. Luckily the trousers of his detainee coveralls were baggy. She wouldn't notice. He hoped she wouldn't notice. He hoped neither of the other officers would notice. He hoped his fellow detainees wouldn't notice.

The other two detainees stood by, intimidated and motionless, under the watchful gaze of the warder's associates.

"It's just that we were a bit surprised as how you had all turned up for lunch at the same time. Like you had all decided that cook's lunch time delights couldn't be waited for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. I mean someone cynical like me might think that somebody knew something was going on. You could see how I might think that can't you, Hugh?"

Another prod from her baton brought a grunt from the man she was talking to. She had moved around in front of him now. Her baton was so close to discovering that his cock was just as hard. He was trying to distract his thoughts while making sure he gave the impression of respectful attentiveness.

"Now, I've got a proposition for the three of you. You tell us what you know about this little escapade and we'll say no more about it. If you keep quiet about it we'll let everyone of your fucking mates in here know that you've told us exactly what we wanted to hear. How is that as a deal? You can be shits and no one will know or you can be heroes and have everyone think you are shits."

The three men looked glum. They knew which was the better option. And anyway, as Hugh told himself afterwards, there wasn't anything much the warders would do with the information anyway. It was pretty obvious that they had had a tip off before the wall had come in. After all, why else had there been a van load of red flaps in the courtyard that morning?

....................................

Florence Daniels the Home Secretary was having a difficult conversation with Nina Henning the junior minister in charge of rehabilitation and reform. "So, Nina, what do we think happened?"

Nina was feeling relieved that the events at the ExCel Detention Centre hadn't been as bad as she had feared when she had first been warned that a mass break-out was being plotted. It was embarrassing that such a thing could happen but encouraging that the security services had given enough warning for the plot to be contained. It had been unfortunate that it had been planned for a day when there were so many press in the vicinity but that had hardly been her fault. The security service briefing had been accurate and she'd been able to get the MCF to intervene in time. "As far as we can tell it was instigated by a group outside the Detention Centre. There was some level of communication with inmates about it but we still don't have complete control over unauthorised contacts between inmates and the outside. According to information gained by the Centre's staff someone threw a ball into the recreation area from outside and there was a message in that. What we don't know is how the inmates knew it was coming or why they believed what the message said. MCF did a pretty good job of preventing the break out as planned but then they were able to prepare. The intelligence services are confident that the group involved has been disrupted for the time being."

"You know the PM is peeved that this cut across the Centre for Banking Excellence announcement."

"She can't blame us for that."

"I'm sure she doesn't blame you for that, ah, personally," Florence responded. "Luckily she had just had some good news about the response to her last TV broadcast. That took her mind off it. And the press reaction to the break-out has been better than hoped. I think we'd rather it was handled before the event in future, though."

Nina was relieved. It could have all been much more of a problem. And, if it was some sort of anniversary celebration for the Fordswell incident then they had got off pretty lightly.

.........................................

Another discussion was taking place in the security service building at the southern end of Vauxhall Bridge.

"Aileen, I thought you might like to hear the results from East London." Christa Blake, chief of field operations for internal intelligence had dropped by Aileen's office. It was one of the things that Aileen enjoyed about her wider role on intelligence committees -- it sometimes allowed her to know more than she otherwise would about the impact of the work of her team.

"Is it as bad as the papers are telling us?"

"Not at all. Quite the reverse. The final figures were twelve absconders -- all low risk individuals -- got out. Six of those were picked up between the detention centre and the river. The others are still loose. The ones we picked up were carrying phony ident cards. Not bad forgeries but I think we'll be able to spot anything like them that turns up in future. And we have two of the group that were responsible."

"Have they got much to say for themselves?"

"Nothing much that we didn't already know. They've not really been clued in on how the organisation works. They're just foot soldiers, really. There was a property on the Isle of Dogs they were using as a jumping off point but it's clean. We weren't hoping for much. The ExCel inmates didn't have anything useful to say either. They'd been tipped off something was happening but the details aren't clear yet. It's lucky we have the outside information sources we do. Otherwise it might have been a bigger thing. We certainly wouldn't have got the MCF on site quick enough without that input."

"Do you think they'll try again?"

"I'm not sure. The word we have is that the organiser took fright and their quarter-master, well their supplier of ident cards at least, is back out of the country, we think to Ireland. The protestors will go back to spray painting and pamphleteering for a bit is my guess. The CRMRE seem pretty harmless at the moment. The whole ECR thing seems to have just been a diversion. It doesn't seem to be more than this one group. We'll just have to keep our ears open and your techies will have to keep up the good work with the data analysis. It can only be a matter of time until one of these groups manages to pull off something serious through. They only have to be lucky once, we have to be lucky all the time. After all, the MCF can't be everywhere. Encouraging results with the location analysis, though."

"Yes, Catherine's team do a good job."

"She was the one that spotted the ECR tattoo?"

"Yes. That was a bit of good fortune. Pure chance really. On one of the toys at the Club Regina. Finding Inky Skin was a help."

"I'm not sure how happy our source was to have to sample their wares, though."

"Your team are so dedicated!"

"It looks like that. I'm not sure it was necessary though."

"Catherine is also doing the analysis work on the MAMBO data."

"We need to discuss MAMBO at the next joint intelligence committee meeting. The Home Office is thinking of mandating MAMBO devices for anyone convicted of respect agenda offences. That will significantly increase the number of individuals whose data you'll have to track. Home Office wants to see if there is any correlation between increases in arousal events and re-offending rates. I don't think anyone would be surprised if they are more likely to re-offend when they're distracted by a stiff cock but it would be good to have the data. Oh, and I think Florence Daniels was upset by the PM's arousal rating."

"I was worried that might happen. Can we stop the politico's trying to use the technology to out-macho one another?"

"Probably not. They manage to do that without technology, after all.."

Chapter 24: Discussions in the Club

In the basement of the Regina Club, Sam Danubo looked up as Natalie was walking towards him. She was smiling and holding up a maid's costume on a hangar.

Sam had got used to most of what he was expected to put up with at the club but he still hated the sessions where he had to wear women's clothes. Somehow it was a greater humiliation to be forced to dress as a caricature of those that now claimed supremacy over him. He knew that Natalie knew how much he hated it. No doubt that accounted for the smile.

"Time to be busy," Natalie breezed, "I've got someone that really needs a sissy maid right now. I'll just get your underwear."

Sam grimaced as Natalie went towards the cupboards at the back of the room. She was half way across when the intercom from the bar upstairs buzzed.

Natalie answered it and then came back to Sam's cage with a disappointed look on her face. "Seems you won't be wearing hose and heels today," she said. "Your Chinese friend is in again asking for you especially. So, I guess we'll save the bra and panties for another time."

With a small sense of relief, Sam let Natalie fit the cock cage and wrist cuffs that Catherine required him to wear. He pulled the hood on over his head and then fitted the gag in place and tightened its strap. Natalie stood by watching patiently and then, as usual, checked the straps for tightness. She clipped a leash to his collar and led him off towards the club room.

As he entered the room he saw Catherine sitting on a couch by the far wall. She was looking straight at him, her eyes expressionless, her head motionless so that her black hair hung like a lacquered frame for her face. Her look betrayed neither anticipation nor boredom, attraction nor disdain. As they reached her side a tug on his leash from Natalie indicated that he should kneel.

"The guaillou again," Catherine said. "I ask myself is it fair to make you suffer for all the wrongs of your kind? But then I think, you are here, so why should you not suffer? Please, my feet." She unfastened his gag and extended one leg towards him. "No," she said, as he went to bend his head forward, "not my feet. My shoe."

Sam knew what was required of him. He had done this so many times now he was becoming habituated to it, there was even a pleasure in doing what was desired with skill, care and precision. He may have attracted her scorn but at least that was recognition. There were many women that came to the club and used him as a toy but he saw her as intriguing and more than that. She wore exotic, dramatic, traditional Chinese clothes that clung to her slight frame in a way that he found exciting. Today she was wearing a short black qipao, its skirt reaching only to her mid-thigh. A bright red embroidered dragon curled sinuously across it. She offered no clue of her response to his actions in her expression. He found it intensely arousing. His feelings were at odds with the strictures imposed by his cock cage and still more with his political views.