The Interventionists Ch 01

I thought a lighter story with some satire and a spy background could be fun. Set in the near future - or perhaps it already is happening?

I always appreciate feedback.

*****

One Friday afternoon at Vauxhall Bridge, London, a meeting took place.

"Minister, welcome, may I congratulate you on your new role. Let's go directly to the briefing room."

"Harriet, long time no see. How are you?"

Perhaps I let my surprise show that he remembered me for it had been a long time. Not very professional when you're in my role. William (never 'Bill') continued, "I always remember a woman's name and her..hrmph ... face. Now, Harry, why are you dragging me down here old girl? We could have met at my club with dinner and a nice bottle of '94 claret while you gave me all this super secret briefing nonsense and whatever else?"

He was staring at my tits! I suppose he thinks I sucked and fucked my way to be head of Security Services and will get down on my knees for him. Good God! I thought the PM was a clever woman. Even if this old Etonian boy wowed the older female voters needed for the government majority did she really have to put this imbecile in charge of national security? He'd probably repeat the briefing to the first busty blonde that offered him a blow job. The surveillance footage showed just how much he liked big boobs - the other details about the women did not seem to matter. Now we had to brief him on the most important security project in the western world. Maybe someone here could get a #metoo campaign started featuring him and get him kicked out of office? Better hold that thought for now. Perhaps this was a clever act and he was not really that stupid, even if he had never had to work for a living? You could not call spending a big inheritance followed by hosting some celebrity TV show really working! He did not seem to work that hard in parliament either. Big breath - smile now - keep it all friendly and light hearted I reminded myself.

"May I still call you William, Minister? Thank you. I am sorry to have dragged you down here but we have rules in this spy business. We have to check all the rooms are scanned for bugs and all that other spy shit. One other thing, we will need your phone before we go into the room."

"Harry, your guys sent me this phone only a few weeks ago and I've just got used to it so you don't have to give me a new one."

"No, William, I'm not giving you a new phone. It's just that whilst this phone is the most secure in the business we can never know that any phone is 100% safe, so we don't take them into class 1 meetings."

William handed his phone over glumly. If only he knew what intelligence we got from phones! Luckily they had reached the conference room by then and Harriet ushered him in and introduced him to James, her deputy, and the man who would conduct the briefing. Just as James was introducing the subject William interrupted.

"What, No spy satellite images, or holograms? I thought you boys were into all into that stuff. James Bond and all that."

At which point his laughing at his own joke turned into a coughing fit.

James covered his face with his hand for a moment then said "gesundheit".

James started the presentation with the history to date. The twin forces of austerity and technology development had led to an exponential increase in those attempting terrorist acts. The media was outraged because for too many weeks in the year there was some terrorist act committed. They had no idea we intervened successfully to stop 20 times that number from happening. The rise in terrorism in the last decade had led to many responses in different countries. Security services throughout the world tried to find ways to identify threats better. It was two British scientists combined with American money and single mindedness that developed a radical Artificial Intelligence named ISAR, 'Intelligent Surveillance And Response'. An offshoot of GCHQ, called Communications Command, ran UK operations and NSA the US operations.

William was clearly bored and had the attention span of a fruit fly. I signalled James to speed up. He acknowledged and continued.

"I am sure you have already guessed the first part of what ISAR does, minister, the name kind of gives it away. It is our AI surveilling all forms of electronic communication: internet, web, social media, radio, TV, phones, camera streams and more. "

"Quite so, old boy, jolly good show. No privacy anymore. TV cameras in the toilets now. Not quite cricket is it? "

James then got to the heart of the matter. "It is obvious that the best result is when we intervene before the terrorist act happens. Supposing though, we were able to intervene even before the terrorist act was planned? This is where the last part of the ISAR name becomes important, the 'And Response' bit."

Though James had sped through some of the earlier parts because William would most likely not comprehend the facts he was now going slow here, to try and get it to sink into William's small brain and minimal attention span.

James continued, "That response comes in 3 levels. The lowest level is level 3 and..."

At this point a puzzled look went across William's face and he interrupted. "But hang on there. Surely 3 is bigger than 1 so how can the lowest be level 3?"

Oh for goodness sake! Harriet jumped in. "William think about your days at Cambridge. Was it better to have a First degree or a Second? We work the same way as Cambridge. First is the highest. "

James picked up the presentation missing out more detail wisely. "Most people who come to our attention stay at level 3. Given the governments budget cuts - wise I'm sure - level 3s are dealt with automatically by the AI. This is the bit absolutely top secret and covered by the Official Secrets Act, known only to a handful of people. The clever part is that we use the same weapon as has often played a key part in leading them towards terrorism - Social Media and the Internet. "

William looked confused again but James wisely quickly continued. "Given your professionalism in media you know of course that social media is often considered to be an amplified echo chamber. Where similar views to your own get repeatedly fed back to you by others. That's because you 'Friend' or subscribe to others with similar views and they to you. It's easy then to believe that most sensible people thinks the same as you and so anyone or organisation saying different must be bad and wrong. A small step from there is to seek to do something about those who are 'bad' or 'wrong'. That's what terrorism is."

William who had managed to be silent for two minutes then contributed, "But James, my Twitter account followers do not all agree with me. They post disgraceful cartoons of me and say hurtful things. Constantly people say I'd say and do anything to be PM. Can this ISAR thing stop them from doing this?"

James used all his training to stay composed and avoided answering the question. If we did interfere it might be to do the opposite and try and make him see the world for what it is.

"I suppose minister the skills of a top politician are sometimes beyond the ordinary person's comprehension. Anyway, as I was saying, what the AI does is filter some of those messages that might reinforce more extreme views, some of which may even have been sent by others deliberately for that reason. At the same time selecting messages the person would not normally have seen reflecting other points of view and ideas. Sometimes the messages display tolerance and understanding and others encourage the joining of constructive groups or make the target feel more a part of the community around them."

"But James, I thought all those internet thingmejig companies were American and dedicated to privacy."

"Exactly, minister, you are sharp there! First that's why we are doing all this with our friends in the NSA. Second, ISAR is smart and can communicate directly with other AIs, such as the ones running the social media sites. The changes needed, happens without human intervention and with very few people knowing about it. It's not a case of making big changes usually, just many small changes. Little tweaks to the targets' profiles online, small alterations to their message streams. It all nudges targets to feel they belong more, others care about them, and so on. Given most people get hundreds, if not thousands of messages in a week this can be done without the person realising."

James took a breath then quickly pressed on before more interruptions.

"There are a few individuals judged more dangerous and they are classified as Level 2. With this group the intervention is still internet and media based but each person within this group is reviewed regularly by one of our analysts. This includes scanning conversations for certain words and phrases. Checking who they meet and where they go. Many of these turn out to be false alarms and drop to level 3 again or are declared completely clean - model citizens. A very - very few become Level 1. I am sure you have guessed already, William, that Level 1 is for the most dangerous and this is where our agents are used to infiltrate and do whatever is necessary. "

William got excited again at this point and exclaimed, "So this is where you get those '00' boys and girls with the guns and fancy cars to chase them and do all that 'wet work' stuff?"

James continued urbanely, "Well, Minister, as good Brits, most of the time we find more discreet ways of dealing with such problems. I am sure as the new security minister you will be relieved to know that we don't like to feature on the front page of the Sun or the Daily Telegraph newspapers, or have questions raised in parliament. That can be embarrassing for the minister in charge after all. Occasionally our American friends help us out. They have lots of places around the world where the real troublesome types can be sent and don't quickly come back from. If asked under a FOI - 'Freedom Of Information" request or by parliament the government can say truthfully that the individual left the country and has no idea where the person currently is. Plausible deniability and all that."

William, replied, "Quite so, the press do seem to like twisting things. They do it to me about almost everything I say. You know I've had to resign from ministerial posts twice because of how they twist my words. Fake news and all that. It's really not fair."

Then getting excited again, almost salivating at the thought, added, "I'd love to meet one of your female spies, preferably all in black leather. Is that possible as I'm now the minister in charge?"

"Perhaps you already have," James replied dryly. William looked thoughtful and upset for a moment whilst he tried to work out the ramifications of the last remark and then laughed. He thought James was joking.

William had indeed met female operatives before because he had spent a while as a Level 1 a few years back. He was found to have connections with far right organisations posing as 'research groups'. In addition he was in possession of unexplained wealth.

Harry believed it was important to maintain a high set of ethical standards though also believed hard decisions were required as well for the security of Britain. What a nightmare, William was definitely going back on level 1 for a while after this briefing. This decision was one operation she could not tell the PM or the parliamentary committee on security about. They got awfully twitchy over surveilling of members of parliament let alone ministers of the crown. If they knew she was about to 'Level 1' the political head of the security services she would be lucky to escape prison or an early demise. The sensitivity they had was nothing to do with law, justice or the good of the country but entirely selfish, due to them believing they might be next and all their dirty secrets might get revealed.

I started to think which operative might be best for the job. The most obvious would be Carol. Harry was always surprised Carol managed not to fall on her face given she wore the highest heels and the weight that must be in those big boobs pushing her forwards. Harriet had personally signed off for the department to pay for Carol's breast enhancement. William was by no means the first target who liked big boobs. The problem was that Carol had been infiltrated into another important case some months back and pulling her out would undo all the weeks of hard work. There was one very capable operative had just become free however she had normal sized boobs. I was enormously proud of my female operatives, partly because I had trained a number myself before taking over the top job. This was the most incredibly sensitive mission and the agent and placement would have to be very good. It required some careful thought over the weekend. Until then we would just have to monitor William electronically and hope it was not the briefing he chose to ejaculate with any companions.

****

The following Monday morning in Peckham, London.

My radio alarm pinged on just in time to catch the weather report accompanied by a moan from the lovely warmth next to me in bed. The weather forecast was not good. The warm beauty behind me sleepily, horsely, whispered, "it's 6.30 in the morning for fuck's sake."

The Monday morning news followed, it was not good either. "Fucking politicians," muttered the sleepy voice. Warm breasts pushed against my back, warm lower parts pushed against mine, a warm hand reached round to cup my balls and then grasp my already hardening penis. I pushed back, she pushed forward and nibbled my shoulder. "Fuck the world," whispered the now not as sleepy voice.

"I'm happy to start on that project," I replied, disengaging her hand from my prick and then turning over to face Marie. Her beauty overwhelmed me for a few moments, and I'm not the type to get overwhelmed easily. Just looking straight into her intelligent, full of life, green eyes, taking in her black, curly, messy, magnificent hair, her top lip with an accentuated classic curve and "v' cut out in the middle I thanked fate / karma / luck for this moment. I could not remember being with or even seeing such a wonderful site. Marie looked back, her eyes moving, thinking her own thoughts, but happy to share stillness before the dance began.

A smile appeared on her face as my eyes travelled downwards, followed by a small shriek as I pushed the duvet away so I could see more of her beauty. In the still coolish room it had the effect of hardening her large nipples. She turned to lay on her back giving me full access to both perfectly formed, perfectly proportioned, soft white warm breasts. Marie liked breast play to get her fully in the mood and I was always happy to oblige. We sometimes played a game as to who would blink first. I played with those beautiful soft breasts with their perfect skin - not her nipples. The game was would I move to her nipples first or would she beg me to? That was not for today though, we did not have time. So with fingers gently touching and making circles around the base of her breasts I gently bit and nibbled on the tender skin. I blew from time to time on the nipples, when playing the game we had established that doing so was within the rules.

The size of the circles decreased as I slowly moved towards the centre of her breasts, first touching the areola and then gently scraping the base of the now engorged fat red nipples with my nail. Marie took hold of my head, first getting me to look at her face then leading my mouth to her left nipple. I blew first then scraped the nipple gently with my teeth before applying some gentle tongue. There was a hiss of contentment and a gentle tremble ran through her body. She raised my head, looked at me again, then moved my head to her right nipple. I started by repeating the same action, there was a tremor again and no attempt by Marie to lift my head so I gave the nipple more gentle attention. After eliciting another gentle tremor I started licking and kissing my way down Marie's body. Her hands were still gently on my head but she made no attempt to guide me.

I kissed down across her flat stomach. Often I kissed right down one leg to her toes, then worked my way up the inside of her legs slowly. Marie whispered, "No time to fuck around, I'm very wet, lick my cunt." The irony in the expletive being fully intended. We were indeed short of time. Marie bent her knees and moved them apart to give me access. The heady perfume of a very wet cunt met me. I was a little surprised at how ready she was. I started on the slightly protruding labia away from her clit licking and then nibbling. I saw a slim hand appear and reach one finger to her clit and rub. A few moments later a second finger came alongside and parted the skin of her labia in an obvious invitation. Moving to the now prominent clit I licked and sucked to Marie's first orgasm of the morning.

It was an unfortunate fact that quite a lot of our fucking was on borrowed time and when time was an issue then Marie liked to control things by being on top - a position I had no problem with at all. This was her move now deftly rolling on top and inserting my prick. Her starting position was horizontal on top kissing me bruisingly hard. After a long period of intense kissing she rose on straight arms to give me access to her breasts. I squeezed and sucked more aggressively than before turning my attention to the nipples circling, pinching and sucking. When she felt adequately stimulated Marie next moved on bent knees to almost vertical establishing a rhythm of slow long strokes later adding some corkscrew movements to the vertical movements. This felt so good looking up at this wild dark beauty feeling my cock moving inside that lovely warm wet cunt feeling it growing bigger and the sensations ever stronger. Staying in that position for what seemed a long very stimulating time. When it was getting near time to climax Marie moved to the established finishing position, leaning far back, getting the angle right for maximum stimulation of us both. Riding hard to then reach a second orgasm.

"Now your turn, love," she whispered, hoarse in her passion. I was only seconds behind in cuming and simultaneously for her to come a third time - or maybe it was just a long second orgasm - either way her contractions continued to milk my prick for every last bit of cum. Grabbing the duvet to cover us up again she collapsed on top of me and we enjoyed the afterglow, for a short while. Marie then got up on her knees then out of bed deliberately allowing the duvet to fall off the bed leaving me in the cold.

As she walked into the adjoining bathroom she said,

"I need a quick mop up here then I must get back to my place, have a proper clean and pick up my phone."

I pulled the duvet back upon rolling to the side of the damp patch on the bed and admired the hair, the long back, the wide hips and the round bum of the retreating figure. Spending only a few moments in the bathroom Marie emerged, dressed fast and then mentioned,

"Rab, lover, you know the way things are, it's likely they'll give me a new case today. I may be gone a few days and will message the usual way when I can. Bye."

"Me too. Same applies." I replied.

With that remark Marie was gone. The fact we met socially, let alone fucked like rabbits was strictly against regulations, probably some would claim against the Official Secrets Act. If it was discovered we would definitely be shat upon from a great height. Though in theory each other was the one person we should have been able to talk to about work without breaking oaths or committing treason we did not. Partly because we wanted some respite from the job and partly because old habits die hard.

I had finished my last case the middle of the previous week and by coincidence so had Marie. This had given us a whole 4 days and 5 nights together. It had been wonderful. Sexually we had just reached that familiarity with each other physically and mentally where we knew what to do to reach that wonderful shared ending to each coupling. The time hadn't been all sex. We'd gone places together trying to evade having faces seen on the ever present CCTV when near either of our apartments, just in case we were under observation.