by Ted Tayler
All of a sudden, his firm got taken over by a rival firm. Many thousands of jobs were lost. Khadim studied his redundancy cheque and decided that his father had been right. He should have studied more. He used the money to get him into University and his results after his final exams placed him in the top one per cent of students in the country.
The students he mixed with, the Politics and Sociology course, the changing nature of the Islamic world he saw around him, shaped the mind of Khadim Salah. Things had to change. His trip to Pakistan reinforced that view.
Many young British-born Muslims return to the land of their parents and grandparents to visit relatives or to discover their roots. But, others come to learn how to destroy the West. Pakistan housed the Taliban and Al Qaeda. It was a breeding ground for terrorists.
Khadim met with family members at first, but later he was introduced to members of Jundullah, the Army of God, a violent extremist Islamic group. He spent time at a madrassa, a religious school that preached a fundamentalist form of Islam. During his stay in Pakistan, he spent most of his time in a village north of Faisalabad. An explosives specialist visited him. The man was a veteran of terrorist training camps along the remote Afghan-Pakistan frontier. He had trained the terrorists responsible for the London bombings of July 7, 2005.
When Khadim returned home to Birmingham, he was logged as a ‘person of interest’ by the British authorities. Staff cuts and inefficiencies meant that no one had followed up on their concerns since he had been home.
Khadim looked across the café to the table where Shamila sat. She dressed in the traditional attire of shalwar kameez, loose trousers, and a long embroidered shirt. Khadim noticed the high collar, not low-cut as favoured by many of the women at the university. He was impressed. He looked away when he realised that the young woman had seen him staring at her, and the way she dressed.
Shamila Javed had risen at six o’clock that morning and knelt to pray in the bedroom of her flat in Aston. She always prayed before dawn and then four more times during the day. It was very early, so she climbed back into bed for more sleep. At half-past seven, she had risen, showered, and dressed. She grabbed breakfast as she dashed out of the door to catch the bus to college for her class.
As she sat on the bus, she felt uncomfortable, it was not just her. There was a growing resentment and hostility towards Muslims whether they had been born here or not. Shamila was in her first year at the Wolverhampton University School of Media where she took Media Studies. Her class finished just before noon. When she returned home, she prepared kofta for her lunch. She sat and ate her spicy lamb kebabs alone.
Shamila then wandered to the shops, looking for a pair of shoes, possibly a sparkly top. It had turned out it was not a good day for buying nice things. She couldn’t see anything she liked. Before returning to her flat to pray, she had popped into the coffee shop. As she left, she saw a man looking at her most intently. She blushed. As she stood up to leave, he came over and spoke.
“I hope you live nearby. I very much wish to see you again.”
Shamila studied this man. He was tall, dark and very handsome, a little old for her, perhaps, or maybe not. Her parents would approve of him, she felt sure, although they had not chosen him themselves. She wanted to have a say in who she married. Her father had made enquiries; looking for a suitable candidate. She opted for a pre-emptive strike.
“I live near here. Hi, I’m Shamila.”
Khadim and Shamila left the coffee shop together. They chatted for a while, and then Shamila agreed to meet her tall, dark stranger again. She thought they might have a future together. In her innocence, she was perfect for Khadim. He felt sure the security services would be less likely to be looking for an amorous-looking couple when the time came for his act of martyrdom.
CHAPTER 16
Spring at Larcombe Manor was always a special time. Erebus and Elizabeth had enjoyed walking around the grounds and watching the transformation in the borders and the wooded areas they were so fortunate to have on the estate.
Alone now, the old man strolled past the forsythia with a carpet of hellebores and crocuses at its feet. Elizabeth would have loved this display. The weather seemed at odds with the seasons he remembered as a young boy. Yet nature surprised us with her resilience and capacity to adapt.
Larcombe had seen the warmest and driest March for over fifty years. As soon as April arrived, a chill set in that threatened to last for weeks on end. Then came the rain, lots of rain and any fears of drought were banished.
Erebus now neared the edge of the lawns and borders. Ahead lay the wooded areas and beyond that, the pet cemetery. The profusion of snowdrops and bluebells scattered among the crab apple trees astounded him. Here and there, the welcome sight of bees darting from plant to plant comforted him. This was a difficult time. Mornings such as this would help him get through the dark days after Elizabeth’s death.
It was time to return to the main house. He turned and began the walk back across the lawns. Over to his left stood the refurbished worker’s cottages that housed the canteen, swimming pool and other facilities to keep the Olympus agents entertained. This spring had been frustrating. Day after day, the intelligence section in the ice-house reported that despite their close monitoring of internet and mobile phone traffic, they were no further forward. The Opening Ceremony was only eight weeks away. The agents in the field, and here at Olympus HQ shared a similar experience to his father in World War II. He often talked to his son about the ‘phoney war’ and the agony of anticipation.
“To know it is going to happen, William. Something more terrible than you have ever seen is just around the corner and you may not live through it. We just wanted it to happen. We willed it even. Not because we welcomed the prospect of death. To sit around and wait… well, it’s bloody awful,” his father had said to him. It had been just here by the ice-house, where he paused for a while to think of his father and the legacy he left him.
That statement had led Erebus to use the ice-house as the secret underground heartbeat of Olympus. Inside the building, they housed the best equipment and people possible to provide Olympus with the knowledge to arm them in the struggles they faced. The interrogation suites, which the agents termed Hotel California, a distasteful, but necessary facility to add to that knowledge.
Despite the range of tools at their disposal, his people found it particularly difficult to make progress. The identification of potential target sites was not the problem; dozens of them existed. It was linking any of the known terrorist organisations, of whatever denomination, to those sites that caused a headache.
Erebus continued to walk towards the house as he drew level with the old stable block he spotted Phoenix emerging from his quarters. The younger man slipped casually into step with him and they strolled on together.
“A beautiful morning, Phoenix,” said the old man.
“Too quiet for my liking,” replied Colin.
Erebus could tell that his trusted aide was straining at the leash. Like his father many years ago, Phoenix was desperate to be doing something positive. This hanging around, waiting drove everyone mad.
The two men ascended the steps that led up from the lawn to the patio. Colin noticed the old man glanced over to where Elizabeth sat with him in the old days before the death of their only daughter. Colin wondered if he imagines her sitting there. Did he see her sipping a cup of coffee, reading the paper, or one of those magazines he had seen in their rooms a while back?
“Not long now, dear boy,” the old man said.
Colin was not sure what he meant. Maybe he referred to the morning meeting. On the other hand, he might have meant the decision on when he stepped aside and handed control over to Athena was imminent. The answer was not going to come just yet; the old man was lost in his thoughts and memories.
Colin held the door open for his leader, and they entered the manor house. Once inside, the spell broke and Erebus resumed his usual demeanour. He had a meeting to run. Th
ere were matters of national importance to discuss. Personal feelings had to be put aside at times such as these.
The agenda for the meeting was brief. Several items were completed with little more than an acknowledgement that nothing new had been reported since yesterday. Minos had one new item to discuss.
“We have been contacted by the Charity Commission. On this occasion, the financials aren’t what they need to look at, but instead, it will be a day’s advisory visit.”
“Bloody hell,” said Erebus, exasperated, “why can’t these people just leave us alone? What do they think we need advice on now, for goodness’ sake?”
“They are checking on how we look after the personal information we hold. Historically, we have informed them we have ex-service personnel on site, suffering from PTSD following their experiences abroad in a theatre of war. This visit is to make sure we comply with the Data Protection Act. After their review, they report their findings and offer practical advice where required.”
Erebus was unimpressed.
“When are they coming, and how will this visit be conducted?”
“They have sent us an information sheet and a questionnaire to complete. That will be reviewed when they visit. They have given no date for their arrival I’m afraid. They need a list of names of members of staff who will be available for them to interview too. Evidently, these days we should tell people what we are doing with their data, supplying adequate training to new staff, and other things.”
Erebus took a long breath and at last, he said, “Let me look at this questionnaire when it’s been completed. Give me the list of names you suggest we parade for these people when they decide to descend upon us.”
Little more remained to be done that morning. As soon as the meeting broke up Colin went to leave the room. In front of him dragged another delightful day whiling away the hours, praying for direct action mission to materialise.
Athena scurried after him.
“I don’t suppose you’re busy for a while? Shall we go for a swim?”
Colin welcomed the opportunity for the exercise; a little company didn’t go amiss either. They met up at the pool ten minutes later and Colin watched as Athena strode out from the female changing rooms. She wore that grey costume again that he remembered from last autumn. With her long, powerful legs and toned body, she was all woman. He was a lucky devil.
They spent the rest of the day together, and the night.
“Just like an old married couple,” said Colin in the morning, as they got ready for the day ahead.
“I wish we could be like this always,” said Athena as she brushed her long mane of hair.
Colin knew she expected him to say something here, but he could not bring himself to commit to anything permanent. They still had the summer to get through yet.
“If we don’t get a move on, Erebus will be down on us like a tonne of bricks,” he replied.
They made their way separately over to the main house. Just another day at the office. Except that today was different, the Information Commissioner’s Office people had arrived without fanfare. Their advisory visit was today.
Larcombe Manor held many secrets. The way in which they protected those secrets was to keep the public and various government officials well away from the property. The transport section collected any letters and parcels from the city post office, and any newspapers. They also brought in any magazines requested and so forth.
The organisation had gone to great expense to make sure that the utility people could read their meters by the front gate. Everything was done to reduce the number of strangers who came up the long winding driveway to the house.
The presence of a handful of officials, with access to paperwork, computerised records, and members of staff was a nightmare. Minos tried to keep calm. Erebus was apoplectic. Athena poured oil on troubled waters.
“What do you want to take a look at first?” she asked, thrusting her ample bosom towards one of the would-be inspectors. He seemed at a loss to choose.
“We… we definitely need to see the completed questionnaire,” he managed to blurt out, running his finger around the inside of his collar.
Minos searched frantically, through the paperwork he carried, files scattering across the table.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, “all present and correct.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” one of the elder inspectors snapped.
Erebus excused himself and left the room. Athena was glad. If he stayed, she feared he might either say something rude or worse still, punch the pompous oaf.
Erebus left because he wanted to warn the ice-house of the snap inspection. They went into a ‘lockdown’ situation on visits such as this. There would be no surveillance, no interrogation, no target practice, definitely no burial in the pet cemetery.
Henry Case still remained in the manor house. His name appeared on the list of people to be interviewed. Erebus deemed it safest to include the chief interrogator’s name, along with a few of the stewards and gardeners.
Inside the meeting room, Athena attempted to get the ICO people on their side. The last thing they needed was for these people to leave in a few hours with an idea that the Olympus Project had something to hide at Larcombe Manor.
“Can we get you something to drink, gentlemen; tea or coffee?”
Slowly, the tide turned and systematically Minos and Athena stepped carefully through the data. They demonstrated that the registered charity had a firm grip on the paperwork, the digital records, and the training of their staff. A fictitious grip of course, but it sounded convincing.
“That appears in order,” said the pompous oaf, on his second cup of coffee, and third chocolate digestive biscuit. “We’re ready to talk to a few of your staff now.”
Henry Case and the others were ushered into the room and trotted out their well-rehearsed back-stories.
“I was wounded in Helmand…”
“Ever since Goose Green…”
“I wake up in the night and I am back below decks, the Exocet punctures the hull and everything changes…”
The inspectors lost track of the questioning as they heard what these men suffered. Each related the experiences that left them with PTSD and brought them to Larcombe Manor for rehabilitation.
As the last of the men closed the meeting room door behind him, the senior inspector said to Athena, “We should be eternally grateful to these men. You are doing a wonderful job in bringing them back to good health in mind and body. The work this charity does is outstanding.”
“Thank you,” said Athena.
The door opened and in walked Phoenix. Athena swallowed hard. What was he doing here? Erebus had sent him to a meeting in Swindon. A follow-up initiative to the disposal job Phoenix had been involved in earlier in the year. Those people in authority, who should have protected Tanya Norris and the others, were to be identified and set aside for further action. There would be no killings, but evidence would be gathered so that at the very least they lost their jobs, and in occasional cases face prosecution.
Colin looked around the room, in a wild search for any familiar faces.
“And who might you be?” asked the officious inspector.
Colin stared at him. He couldn’t reveal his code name. He couldn’t tell him he was Colin Bailey; the world outside believed him to be dead.
“Where did you serve? What regiment did you serve with?”
Colin did the only thing possible. He collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Athena rushed to his aid. Minos called for the stewards. The inspectors were at a loss. Could this be an extreme case of PTSD? From what hell hole had this poor chap returned? On the other hand, should they be sharpening their pencils?
The stewards helped Colin to his feet and removed him from the room. In the corridor, he met Erebus. He was out of breath after chasing around trying to make sure the agents who were at risk such as Phoenix, made themselves scarce.
“Dear boy, are you alright?
”
“Had a shock sir, my mind went a complete blank there for a minute.”
Colin explained what happened.
“Couldn’t be helped, old chap. We had no idea they were coming today. Fingers crossed; Athena can explain you away. She has worked miracles already this morning. Another hour or two and we will be in the clear. Bloody pen pushers, they have ten times more of them in fluffy, unnecessary jobs than we have got fighting men. Priorities are all wrong.”
Colin was hurried out of a side door and he soon back in his quarters. His debrief with Erebus about the Swindon meeting would have to wait. One thing he would bring up with the old man when he saw him was his cover story for visits such as today.
He had not needed one so far because Olympus generally knew when the Charity Commissioners visited. It was less frequent now the charity had become well established. Financials could be audited remotely, and every visit had left Larcombe with an unblemished record of success. The trouble was, each successive Government thought it vital to add further layers of red tape, more checks, and balances. They needed to document evidence that organisations were ‘going green’, promoting diversity, and any other rubbish they could muster.
Judas Priest interrupted Colin’s reverie.
Another text message from Therese on his mobile phone.
‘I bought tickets for Greenwich Park. Friday, Aug 3rd. Hope to see you’
Colin thought it must be for a football match.
“Oh well, that won’t be so bad for a few hours, if it keeps her sweet.”
He sent Therese the reply she wanted to hear. Colin marked the date on his calendar and forgot it for now; he had two months hard work in front of him first. At least, that’s what he hoped.
The ICO inspectors left Larcombe Manor later that afternoon. As they travelled in the hire car back towards the city of Bath, they chatted over the events of the day. The manor house and grounds had impressed them; the gardens looked so beautiful at this time of year. A pity they didn’t have time to explore them more.