The Old Enemy by Henry Porter (read with me .TXT) 📕

to him, yet there were questions he wanted answered. She took care with anti-surveillance routines, but was she aware of regular attempts to follow her? Had she ever seen the man in the black leather kilt before? And what was going on in the Edgar Building that interested the police so much?

There was no sign of any surveillance outside the building, so Samson entered and went back to his desk in the volunteer room, which also served as an overflow for the digital department, and returned to where he’d left off addressing inquiries to the organisation’s main site. GreenState’s purpose was to advocate a revolutionary new deal, zero-growth economy and a transformation of the way people live and consume. In reality, it was a number of different campaigns all housed in the same building – there were the GreenState Economics Foundation, GreenState Water, GreenState Climate Research, GS-STOP, which campaigned for a total ban on trophy hunting, and GSMedical, which sniped at big pharma. The organisation, Samson realised, was very large, given its humble origins as an NGO limited to activism in the state of California, very rich and also all rather opaque. But in its private mission, GreenState was unwaveringly clear. As a likeable volunteer organiser named Rob had explained during Samson’s first week, GreenState only gave a damn about three things: data, getting things for free and looking after its own image. Rob cheerfully admitted that the climate emergency and mass extinction of species probably came fairly low down the list of the organisation’s priorities because, well, it was like all campaigns – the success of the organisation rather than the crusade mattered most to the senior people.

GreenState had a thirst for data, for which reason Samson’s job this past three weeks had been to answer every incoming email with a customised appeal for money, followed by a request, delivered in the most unctuous and manipulative language, for the correspondent to complete a questionnaire on their lifestyle, beliefs, income, social-media engagement and environmental activism that would allow GreenState ‘to better serve the planet and its people’. It was surprising how many of those who turned down the request for an immediate donation were happy to complete the detailed survey. ‘If we don’t get them to donate now, we get them later,’ Rob told him while going through the procedures for replying to emails and Web enquiries. ‘Whenever there are floods, wildfires, news stories about the unprecedented release of methane from the tundra, etcetera, we bang out appeals to different groups of respondents based on the data they’ve given us in the questionnaire. It’s pretty goddamn effective.’ In the guileless responses, which included mobile numbers, private email addresses and income, and at times ready donations, Samson saw Rob was right. GreenState was a cash cow with a lot of political power that could be deployed internationally, nationally, or at constituency level, although it never actually caused much trouble to the government. ‘We work on the inside to reform,’ said Rob.

The operation intrigued Samson and when he was waiting for Zoe to make a move he researched the company structure. He used to do this in his brief career as a banker before being recruited by SIS, and he was surprised to find that there were no annual reports because GreenState was now owned by a series of private companies, the original evangelicals having long since been removed. The whole was controlled by an American parent company called GreenSpace Dynamics US Inc., which in turn was run by a tiny board of business figures, about whom there was also very little public information. GreenState made a lot of noise about the good it was doing but was remarkably silent about its own affairs.

Late in the afternoon, Zoe appeared in the office, looking stricken. Samson wasn’t close enough to see if she had been crying, but thought she might have been – maybe she had been shocked by the attack in the street and thought that she was the target, but that didn’t seem in keeping with the character he’d observed. Instead of removing her coat, she strode down the aisle of the open-plan campaign centre with her bag slung over her shoulder. A few minutes later she came back and went straight to the exit without stopping. He couldn’t follow without making it obvious and, besides, she seemed too upset to have the conversation he wanted.

A minute or two later, Desmond appeared. ‘A word with you, Mr Ash, if you wouldn’t mind.’ He signalled to the two youths from Digital, who made themselves scarce, and checked his reflection in the glass partition. He sucked the ends of his reading glasses, toyed with one of the grey curls that framed his face then regretfully left his reflection to its own devices. ‘We have had a complaint, Mr Ash. I’m afraid I have no alternative, as Director of Campaigns, but to ask you to leave.’

Samson said nothing.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes, that’s fine – I’ll leave.’

‘You don’t want to hear the nature of the complaint?’

Samson shook his head, got up and hooked his jacket over his shoulder.

The Director of Campaigns was not going to be deprived of the pleasure. ‘I’ll tell you anyway. We’ve had a complaint from a member of staff – a much-valued and trusted member of staff – that you have been stalking her during your time here and that, further, she believes you volunteered at GreenState in order to carry out your campaign of harassment. It will be obvious to you that we cannot allow this situation to continue. I will inform Security that if you try to gain entry to these offices, or are seen loitering in the vicinity, they should call the police. Is that clear?’

Samson shrugged and smiled.

‘Have you nothing to say?’

‘Nope,’ said Samson, brushing past him.

‘There’s one other thing. We’re aware that you have used your time here to investigate the organisation – Web searches are recorded, as I’m sure you know. We had you marked down as an undesirable and