by Ted Tayler
Erebus returned to Larcombe Manor in time; he had taken a brief holiday to Ibiza after his wife had been laid to rest beside their daughter Helen in the family crypt of the nearby church. He had wanted to revisit the places he and Elizabeth stayed at during their honeymoon. Colin noticed his boss appeared to have aged in the past weeks.
The whole nation had been galvanised for a time in the search for the terrorists and every odd occurrence up and down the country received a zealous level of inspection. It didn’t last. The Olympus agents bided their time; the truck was disposed of near Builth Wells after delivery there on a low loader overnight.
Agents who interrogated them in the remote safe houses around the country extracted every piece of information possible from the ‘escaped’ prisoners. They were veterans of the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. They gave the men as much time to prepare for their demise as their late colleagues received in Basra or Helmand. Their end was swift.
Athena decided that bringing the bodies to Larcombe was an unnecessary risk. It is possible if you go walking with your dog in remote corners of dense forests in Hertfordshire or Northamptonshire, your pooch will earth up the odd bone. So be warned!
The pattern of the morning meetings at Larcombe throughout the rest of February and March followed a similar routine. Athena questioned ‘Head’ Case at length about the Milton Keynes cell. Did the intelligence boys have a handle of what they were plotting? Do we have any other cells or groups coming up on their radar? Is it possible that despite the extra security that ‘Big Break’ generated, we still remained vulnerable to a terrorist attack?
Henry Case fielded every question in his inimitable style. Day after day, he reported that they were on top of the situation. Henry suggested that it was possible that the MK cell could launch an attack. They still had the ability. But, he stressed, time and time again, no matter what level of security the authorities invested in, a lone terrorist could infiltrate an Olympic venue and cause havoc.
Thanatos and Alastor provided reports relating to the degree to which the authorities demonstrated their preparedness for the Games. Colin sat in a meeting in mid-March and leafed through a sixty-page dossier they had compiled. He decided to read it later.
Colin was bored, to be frank. ‘Big Break’ was the last action he had seen. The massive challenges of the summer still lay ahead. He and Athena continued to snatch a few hours here and there for their clandestine affair. They had become the only times when he felt alive.
He realised that those warm feelings of belonging, in front of that fire with Erebus, were inextricably mixed with his relationship with Athena; it was that which cemented everything together. Without her, he could work for the old man and Olympus, but just as easily live anywhere in the country. He could be a ‘sleeper’ called on to carry out a direct action as required and return to his day job for the rest of the time.
Larcombe Manor had become home. Athena was his partner. Was Erebus bringing him closer to the fold that night? Was the vision he outlined one that the old man planned for Phoenix and Athena to bring to fruition?
It was a heady intoxicating thought. Colin needed to decide whether that was what he wanted too. He took time out to clear his head. He worked out in the gym and swam forty lengths of the pool. He was ready to suffer the sixty pages of ‘What Every Boy Should Know’ about the Olympic Games.
Colin lay on his bed in his quarters and began to read the file.
In early 2012, it seemed ironic to Colin that while large areas of the country were subject to feelings of deep insecurity, the government were sponsoring a massive security operation for the London Games. Since ‘Big Break’, that operation had multiplied in scope.
The operation was many times more complex than anything the UK had ever undertaken before. Who was it designed to protect? Certainly not Joe Public; at least not primarily. It was mostly for wealthy and powerful visitors and corporations.
As well as a staggering concentration of sporting talent, London would host thousands of media people from around the world. He counted details of more troops deployed than now served in Afghanistan. The overall numbers of security personnel could range between twenty-five and fifty thousand.
The veil of secrecy that currently shrouded everything meant that nobody knew the real number. Intelligence reports from the icehouse suggested an aircraft carrier was due on the Thames near the City of London; surface to air missiles would scan the skies. Unmanned drones would hover overhead to spot potential problems.
Added to that, the reports suggested they might deploy overseas agents, dozens of dog teams, and mile upon mile of electric fencing. The London Olympic Games Act (2006) which passed without much fanfare would legitimise force by armed forces, police, and even private security firms. Colin had seen no sign of it in West Africa, and he was meticulous in keeping up to date with what happened back home.
A new range of scanners was available, biometric ID cards had been ordered, and CCTV systems with number-plate and facial-recognition installed. Police control centres and checkpoints would be scattered like confetti. If those that lived in the capital did not have a ‘lockdown’ feeling with the high level of intensive surveillance now in place; then in July and August they certainly would.
Colin set aside the file for a while and considered what he had read so far. There was not much more he could think of the authorities could do to protect the city and the foreign visitors, whether competitors, officials or spectators. A couple of things though struck him concerning the increased security.
Despite the economic meltdown, the now so-called ‘homeland security’ sector was booming. It was a way for a country to aid economic recovery, creating work for their own security companies in response to heightened terrorist threats, whether real or imaginary.
Colin could see it was in London’s interest to show the world it was a safe place to hold a major global event. If it could cope with that then it boosted confidence it was safe to invest in and to visit as a tourist. It was a ‘win-win’ tactic, provided a young zealot wearing plastic explosive under his ‘London 2012’ sweatshirt blew no one to bits.
Colin was concerned at the appointment of the old Group 4 outfit as the main contractor. They had never covered themselves in glory in their first guise. They were a vast organisation these days, with people in prisons, asylum detention centres, offshore installations, and airports. Colin thought he had read somewhere earlier in the week they were moving into police stations too. It was only in February that another private security firm managed to lose twelve terrorists let’s not forget.
He stood up to stretch his legs. What was it they kept banging on about when they referred to the Games? Legacy, that was it!
In another part of the report, it suggested the now familiar scenery of security at an international airport – checkpoints, scanners, ID cards, cordons and security zones. All of this would materialise right slap bang in the middle of major cities. “What are they trying to do; put us out of a job?” asked Colin with a slight smile.
Colin finished reading the report. He had to admit that Thanatos and Alastor had been thorough. As he climbed into bed that night and lay there staring at the ceiling, he kept running through the different scenarios. With fifty thousand official security staff on the ground and in the air, how would he find a way through the defence and score, if he were a terrorist?
Sleep would not come; nor would a feasible solution. Once you added the spectators into the mix, each one with an awareness of the potential dangers stoked by the media, then it was more and more likely that Henry Case had hit the nail on the head. The threat would come from a lone bomber, maybe unconnected to any known cell. That was, without a doubt, the worst scenario.
After a restless night, Colin woke to find that his phone was ringing. He stubbed his toe on the table as he scrambled to pick it up before whoever it was ended the call. He cursed. Once for the toe, once for the missed call. He checked the number. It had been Therese!
/> “Shit!” he thought “what does she want I wonder?”
Colin limped to the shower room and washed and dressed. He had a few chores to be done today. There was more reading, he had to attend the morning meeting, and then he had promised himself a spot of relaxation. He found it difficult in this ‘silly season’ to get motivated; he needed to spend a few hours in the gym, the pool and the target range in the icehouse.
The last thing he needed was Therese coming out of the woodwork.
When he felt ready to face the day, he went back and picked up his phone. Therese had sent a text message.
‘Hi. Miss you. I guess your job is keeping you busy. If I get tickets will you come to the Games with me?’
Colin groaned.
“I would stick hot skewers in my eyes rather than sit and watch any sport.”
He wondered how he should reply. Not responding wasn’t an option. He decided to play along. If she thought he was meeting her in London in a few months’ time, then that bought him time to finally decide what to do about her.
‘Sounds like fun. Can’t promise; I won’t know my schedule until closer to the time.’
Therese sent back a smiley face and two kisses. Colin shook his head.
His day had started badly. The rigmarole of selling eleven million tickets was a constant source of controversy in the media. Organisers claimed they had managed to balance income with accessibility and atmosphere while critics claimed the process favoured the rich. Colin had read somewhere, although the name didn’t mean a thing to him, that front row seats for Usain Bolt in the 100m final would set you back hundreds of pounds, possibly thousands.
“What if he doesn’t come?” thought Colin.
He fervently hoped that either Therese would fail to buy any tickets, or they would be for something vaguely exciting. The prospect of sitting in the velodrome, watching blokes in Lycra going around the track lap after lap had him yawning already.
Colin knew the odds were stacked against her. Their own Olympus report on the matter showed that sponsors, officials, and the media were allocated seats as a ‘given’ by the IOC. The same old story, as with the sudden massive increase in security. Everything was done with the rich and famous in mind. Poor old ‘Joe Public’ a long way down the list of priorities.
Before Colin could treat himself to exercise and then sharpen up his shooting skills, he had the morning meeting to negotiate.
Erebus was back in the chair. Athena sat at his right-hand side. The Three Stooges looked extremely proud of themselves. Colin wondered what they would have to report to the agents gathered around the table. Something riveting he hoped.
Thanatos eventually got his moment in the sun. Colin thought the first few items on the agenda tedious, No new ground was being covered. Thanatos reminded Erebus that the application process had been open since July 2010 to find up to seventy thousand Games Makers and Ambassadors for London 2012.
Thanatos waxed lyrical, about how contagious the enthusiastic approach of this band of volunteers would be. Colin listened and thought what a painful exercise it was. Taking five weeks off work without pay, just to say you have been near an Olympic Games. Not even taking part, but more than likely holding a door open in the bowels of a stadium, showing people the way to their seats.
Evidently, the selection process had been underway for over a year. Colin suddenly brightened. That’s it, he thought. That’s how I would try to get inside the venues. They will be dressed in an official uniform, with their badges and accreditations. The security will be less stringent. They would have access to areas where the public, if not barred, would be restricted.
He heard Thanatos carrying on in the background. Men and women of all ages; a nurse, a physio, any of them could be a terrorist. One minute they were tending to a cut knee on a young girl that slipped and fell on a stairway. The next they were placing a bomb in a strategic position that would cause the greatest loss of life.
This fellow Usain could be having a massage on his calves, and then find himself drugged, kidnapped and whatever country he comes from could be held to ransom. Colin was convinced that this was the most workable choice for the terrorists. Knowing was one thing, stopping them carrying out attacks would be another thing altogether.
CHAPTER 15
Abdul Bashir and Aaleyah Fayad studied at the Queen Mary University of London. They were both twenty-one years old and met when they attended their first biochemistry lecture in October 2010. In the past eighteen months, they had studied hard and lived next to one another in the Student Village in Mile End.
In the first few weeks, they saw one another now and then, in the laundrette or by the shops and cafes on the busy campus. Abdul was a quiet boy; easily led. Aaleyah was a firebrand; she had lived at home with moderate, westernised parents and she was a teenager with attitude. She wanted to change the world.
There had been no physical attraction to spark their relationship. They were students, on the same course, from the same background and they got on with one another. Aaleyah told Abdul what they would do and he did it. Whether to walk to lectures together, to carry her shopping bags, or talk for hours about politics, religion, and the holidays.
Aaleyah wanted to be involved in London 2012. She goaded Abdul to join her. He wasn’t interested in watching sports. He was a serious young man who preferred to read and study. Aaleyah decided that they would spend their summer vacation together as volunteers at London 2012. Stratford was only ten minutes up the road.
In fairness, neither of them was that keen on the vast array of sports on offer at the Olympics. The driving force behind this joint venture was Aaleyah; she had found a cause worth fighting for, and Stratford was to be her battleground.
When Aaleyah moved to Mile End and started university, like most students, she was eager to make new friends and to fit in, so she joined the Islamic society. She was befriended by a group of Muslim girls she met at the various functions they held. They seemed to know a lot about Islam.
They encouraged her to read books that would help her learn more of her religion. What she learned from these girls and the books made her think that violence was acceptable. It made her want to become a suicide bomber. She believed that would make the Western world sit up and take notice. She wanted the West to understand her anger.
Aaleyah joined the increasing number of Muslim women targeted at British universities and drawn into violent extremism. As the summer break after the end of their first year ended, Abdul and Aaleyah sought to embark on a journey that could allow them to achieve immortality.
In September 2011, they heard that their applications to volunteer as Games Makers were approved. They would be based at the Aquatics Centre. They attended training days at Wembley Arena, Hackney College, and Earls Court.
While Erebus and his team searched for terrorist cells and internet traffic between Pakistan or Afghanistan and the UK, one of their greatest threats was already in London.
The agents in the icehouse searched for intelligence that would help them prepare for the anticipated strikes on the Games. The students carried on their daily business. On the surface, you saw two young people attending lectures, studying, enjoying a social life, albeit without alcohol, but there was nothing to alert suspicion.
Behind closed doors, they learned how to prepare and operate an explosive device that would leave its mark on the western world for generations to come.
Munaf Mansoor and Farooq Habibi were final year students at London Metropolitan University. They met on the Islington campus and shared an interest in football. They were avid Arsenal fans and attended nearly every home match during a season.
Munaf was a Politics and International Relations undergraduate; Farooq dabbled in ICT. It wouldn’t be fair to say he studied, as over the last year his attendance at lectures had dropped. He was reasonably bright and intelligent. His attention had drifted. He believed he was destined for greater things than working for Google or another faceless corporation.
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Similar to Abdul and Aaleyah, the two young men had joined the Islamic Society when they began their university degree courses. Munaf, with his full black beard, spotted the new face of Farooq in the student canteen. He called him over to the trestle table where he handed out pamphlets to students and shook him by the hand.
As Farooq looked through the pamphlets and books on offer, Munaf pointed to one article in particular.
“Women are man’s great temptation; they should be covered up and kept apart.”
Farooq picked up the item and walked towards the seating in the hall. He had three older sisters at home and they teased and bullied him, but he had never thought of them as being a temptation. His parents had been strict with the four of them, but many of the traditional ways had been consigned to the past. Farooq was eager to discover whether his parents had lost their way.
The Society arranged for an external lecturer to talk to them. As Farooq leafed through the article, a side door opened and men from the Islamic Society filed into the hall. Half of the seats at the front still remained vacant and he sat among the men. Munaf came and sat beside him.
Farooq watched as the women entered through another door. Then they sat as far back as possible, well away from the men. Although no signs enforcing segregation were posted, it appeared to be tacitly accepted. Farooq soon appreciated that London Met in common with several other University Societies around London was dominated by the more traditional elements. So, such segregated seating became the norm.
The speaker that arrived a few minutes later was an old man and a ‘hardliner’. He emphasised the need for gender division and that the current relationship between men and women had led to a crisis in Muslim society.
Islam laid down prohibitions because there was a danger that without them other sins could follow. It was important to lower the gaze. They must learn the etiquette of modesty. They should avoid touching and unnecessary socialising.