“That’s alright. Your boss does.”
“Who?” asked Paddy.
“The man sitting over there in the coffee shop. On the balcony.”
There was Will, smiling, sitting at a table. Paddy approached him.
“Well, Paddy, sit down. Sorry for the theatrics, but things have suddenly got quite serious,” said Will.
“So I see,” replied Paddy.
“Do you have the memory stick I gave you?” asked Will.
“Yes, I’ve brought it, what’s this about?” asked Paddy.
“We can’t talk here. Follow me,” replied Will.
Will led Paddy down to a quiet section of the station where there was a row of old unused shop units. Will pulled out a key and went inside the first unit. It was an MOD safe house which the firm had been authorised to use in recent months. The firm would routinely be advised to use a safe house to receive intelligence briefings from MI5 in situations where it was suspected that security may have been compromised. Once Paddy was inside, he began to quiz Will.
“Who do you think threw that man out the window at Dunlop & McLaine?” asked Paddy.
“He wasn’t thrown, he was shot,” said Will.
“How do you know that?” asked Paddy.
“Because I shot him,” replied Will.
Paddy looked at Will in astonishment. By imparting this information, Will had just upped the stakes substantially. Paddy had a choice to make at that moment: turn Will in to the authorities or help him. He was now potentially aiding and abetting a murderer. After all, in English law there was no defence of duress or necessity in murder as was the case with most other crimes. On the contrary, the courts considered crimes such as rape and murder so heinous that they were not permitted such a defence.
“Why did you shoot him?” asked Paddy.
“Because he was there to kill me and steal information,” replied Will.
“What information?” asked Paddy.
“He was looking for the information you have on your person,” replied Will.
“Who was he?” asked Paddy.
Will explained that the man in question was Aamir Machete. He worked as a ‘consultant’ for a rival firm called Sefton & Grey, a firm which Will believed was also part of the bidding for the ISC contracts. Will pulled out his iPhone, which already had Machete’s profile up on the screen. Paddy recognised the man’s face almost instantly. “That’s the man that followed me last night!”
Machete’s role with Sefton & Grey was not fully understood. He wasn’t a lawyer, and his profile did little to give away any work history. However, Will observed that any time he had come across Machete, he had always appeared in high level meetings relating to oil rights in the Middle East.
“That stuff about me being at home and MI5 advising me that my life was in danger was all a smokescreen. The reality is, I never went home last night and I never contacted MI5, or the police for that matter,” explained Will.
At around 0200 hours, Will had been the only person left in the office. He was working in the attic, which was a place he liked to work after hours. If Will was ever working late, he would always make a point of activating the silent alarm system within the building. At approximately 0215 hours, that silent alarm system was switched off. “I know this because I got an alert on my computer to tell me so.”
Will waited by the door to the attic room and when it opened, he attacked the intruder. Will immediately recognised that it was Machete. He was armed: however, Will managed to disarm Machete and knock him on the floor. When Machete fell, Will jumped on him, pinning Machete down. Pointing the gun at his head, Will elicited from Machete that he had been sent to kill Will, and that there would be more to come.
“As I let go of him, he pulled a knife on me from inside his jacket. I had no time to think, so I shot him in the shoulder before he could cut me. As I shot him, he fell through the window and on to the ground,” explained Will.
“You’re going to be wanted for murder. And they’ll have you in for questioning,” said Paddy.
“Precisely. We don’t know who we can trust. I need you to get a message to ISC explaining that the security of the tender process is being compromised,” replied Will.
Will explained that he had reason to believe that Sefton & Grey had been infiltrated by a private transnational network. This network could be planning to use the privileged access to information that it would gain with a successful bid for the legal services contracts in order to wage war with an unknown enemy in the Middle East.
“Who should I go to in the ISC?” asked Paddy.
“Morgan Wright is a Member of Parliament and should be in his constituency office in Reading today. He sits on the ISC. He’s also former Navy. Go to his office and speak to him. Explain everything I have just told you,” instructed Will.
“Where are you going?” asked Paddy.
“Westbury. I need to speak to a contact,” replied Will.
“What about your wife and kids?” asked Paddy.
“My wife and children left the country early this morning for a secret location. I told them not to return to Surrey until this is resolved. Now go. I will find you again once I have spoken to my contact,” said Will.
Paddy headed off towards the door as Will made his way towards the Western platform. However, as Paddy walked through the main doors onto the footpath, he heard an almighty scream coming from back inside the station. He immediately turned and sprinted back to where he had last seen Will. Up on the platform, a crowd was gathering. Paddy ran up the steps to have a look. Then Paddy spotted the source of the commotion and his heart sank. Will’s briefcase lay on the side of the platform. As he moved closer, Paddy realised that bits of clothing, as well as what appeared to be Will’s broken body, lay under the train.
“What happened?” asked Paddy.
“He must have fallen…” replied a commuter.
“Perhaps he meant to jump,” said a third person.
Listening to the various mutterings, Paddy realised that this was probably not an accident. However, it couldn’t have been suicide, either. Will seemed too determined to go to Westbury. It became immediately clear to Paddy that if this wasn’t an accident, he might himself be being watched by the perpetrator. Slowly, he backed away out of the company of the crowd and quickly went to exit the station. He only had a rough idea where Morgan’s constituency office was, so he pulled out his phone and turned on Google Maps. After a few minutes of jogging in the general direction and waiting for the page to load it came up as being less than a mile away on Duke Street. He skirted the river until he got the bridge and then ran up Duke Street. When he got to Morgan’s constituency office, he came through the door like a bull in a china shop, terrifying the receptionist in the process.
“I’m sorry. Paddy Trimble, Dunlop & McLaine, I need to speak with Morgan as a matter of utmost urgency,” said Paddy.
“I’m sorry, you’ll need to make an appointment, Mr…?” said the receptionist.
“Tell him that William Dunlop is dead, that should get his attention!” replied Paddy.
The receptionist briskly walked into the next office to fetch Morgan. Immediately, Morgan walked out.
“What’s this I hear?” said Morgan, with a concerned face.
“Hello, you won’t have met me, Mr. Wright. I work for Dunlop & McLaine and ten minutes ago, Will Dunlop was murdered in Reading railway station,” explained Paaddy.
Morgan looked about, clearly keen not to be overheard. “Come into my office.”
Chapter 10
Operation Cromwell
PADDY FOLLOWED MORGAN INTO HIS OFFICE and shut the door. Morgan carefully sat down in his chair and composed himself slightly as Paddy went about explaining the situation to him.
“This is very concerning news. If what you say is indeed true, then we need to stall the procurement process. The fact that you are here is also a huge conflict of interest,” said Morgan.
The way Paddy saw it, the
ISC had no other choice. The extent of the corruption may go further. There was every possibility that domestic elements of the UK’s intelligence services had been working to assist Sefton & Grey.
“If that is the case, you did the right thing in coming to me instead of the police,” said Morgan.
There was a knock on the door.
“Sir, you’d best turn on the television,” said the receptionist.
Morgan switched on Sky News. The lead story was that the body of the man who fell from Dunlop & McLaine’s office this morning had been identified as Aamir Machete, a Senior Consultant from the firm Sefton & Grey. The police were treating the death as suspicious and would be launching a murder investigation. This coincided with the breaking news that the Managing Partner of Dunlop and McLaine, William Dunlop, had committed suicide by jumping in front of an oncoming train in Reading railway station. The newsreader said that it was not clear at this stage whether the incidents were connected.
“Shit. This limits our options…It won’t be long before the media work out the connection to the ISC. What we need is an immediate media blackout. What happened with this man Machete?” asked Morgan.
“Will shot him last night,” said Paddy
“What in God’s name?”
“He was acting in self-defence. That man came into our offices after hours to kill Will and steal documents,” responded Paddy.
“This is getting very dangerous. I need to convene the executive committee of the ISC and take further instructions,” explained Morgan.
“You’ll also need to review your own security arrangements, Morgan. If they could get to Will they can get to you, too,” suggested Paddy.
Morgan asked his receptionist to put a call into the Close Protection Unit for an armed motorcade to take him to Parliament. Paddy was conscious that he wanted to get back to Dunlop & McLaine and update them on the situation, but Morgan was having none of it. He needed Paddy to come along to the committee meeting and explain all of this. While Morgan and Paddy waited for their transportation to arrive, Morgan alluded to a reason why this might be happening. “You know Paddy, I bet this has everything to do with the New Justice Act.”
“How so?” replied Paddy.
“There are elements to it which authorise the use of secret courts,” said Morgan.
“Ah yes, I’ve read about them. Closed Material Procedures, you call them. I heard they can only be used under the most limited circumstances,” said Paddy.
“Well, yes, the so-called CMPs have existed for some time, and if you read the public version of the Act that is indeed the situation. However, the Act also rubber stamps a particular type of court which has been in operation for an even longer period of time. Namely, the Privy Court,” said Morgan.
“You’re implying that there are hidden provisions…” Paddy responded.
“Redacted provisions, in fact. For the eyes of Parliament only. The MPs knew what they were voting for when it went through, but that was the last time they would see the hidden language,” said Morgan.
“Just how much power does it grant the courts?” asked Paddy.
The Act in fact permitted the courts to hold proceedings entirely in secret. Ordinarily, the subject of the CMP would appear in some capacity. However, the Privy Court would always be convened in a secret location, and the identity of any defendants would be confidential between the judge and the specially cleared advocates selected to represent them. Moreover, the Privy Court did not have to follow the traditional rules of due process. The format of the trial was entirely at the discretion of the judge. The judge could even allow the advocates to breach traditional rules of admissibility of evidence. Finally, the remit of the Privy Court was outside of the mandate of the Department of Justice; oversight of the Privy Court had recently been delegated to the ISC.
“This is one of the reasons why the ISC has been given so much power in oversight,” said Morgan.
“But it just seems contrary to everything,” replied Paddy.
Morgan began to divulge some of the realities that the intelligence services faced. It was believed by many within the corridors of power that the UK was losing the war against terrorism on the home front. “We learnt our lessons from Northern Ireland. Many would argue that we couldn’t have nailed down the key players in the IRA without internment and the Diplock courts. Nowadays, it’s Al Qaeda or some other band of rebels. The difference is, it’s no longer in some obscure place. It’s right here on our doorstep, in our gardens and on the street,” said Morgan.
While Paddy was willing to understand this point of view, he himself was a bit of an idealist. To him, the Privy Court sounded like a medieval beast. Underneath the surface, his attitude was that the basic principles of due process and habeas corpus should always be preserved, no matter the circumstances.
“There’s a Privy Court trial which is listed for this Sunday come to think of it. However, I don’t know the precise location.”
“Sunday? That’s a strange day for a trial…” replied Paddy.
“Yes, the judges of the Privy Court prefer the weekend. It means they can use actual courthouses. Most times they make use of some government building in the middle of nowhere. Given the courts are usually closed for business during weekends, it’s the last place anyone would expect,” explained Morgan.
“Who is the defendant?” asked Paddy.
“Abdullah Ahmed Atwah. The SAS captured him last week in the Hindu Kush,” said Morgan.
This came as a surprise to Paddy. Atwah was the head of Pakistani ISI and was supposed to be an ally. However, MI6 had received reports that Atwah was supplying materials for a dirty bomb to breakaway members of Al Qaeda. There was more.
“Where did the intelligence come from?” asked Paddy.
“From a British Army Unit which raided a number of poppy farms close to Kabul. The officer in the unit recovered written notes about a meeting which was to occur between Atwah and a British Jihadi in this region. And therein lies the problem,” said Morgan.
“What?” asked Paddy.
“The Army officer who found the papers will need to give evidence. The officer is a Code 4 witness. I don’t know for certain who this person is, but I can hazard a good guess,” said Morgan.
A Code 4 witness was the highest level of witness. Judges and generals were Code 1 (the lowest susceptible to a terrorist attack), and MPs were Code 2. Cabinet Ministers were Code 3. Code 4 was the level above that. That narrowed the identity of the potential witness substantially.
“Bloody hell. But there’s only really one person I can think of…” said Paddy.
“Exactly,” replied Morgan.
“Who is prosecuting?” asked Paddy.
It was a dedicated unit in the Crown Prosecution Service called the Special Prosecution Service or SPS. However, while the remit of the Privy Court fell under the mandate of the ISC, the SPS remained firmly under the responsibility of the Justice Department.
Morgan’s assistant reappeared. “They’re here.”
Paddy and Morgan walked out into reception. Through the front doors, Paddy saw a convoy of five Land Rovers and several police motorbikes. Several men in matching dark suits and ear pieces approached. “Sir, please come with us,” said one of the men.
Morgan and Paddy were led out to the cars. When they got inside they were greeted by a man introducing himself as “Fred from MI5.” Paddy was instantly cautious. Morgan had specifically asked for Close Protection Unit to conduct the pick-up, yet here was MI5.
“I thought this was Close Protection Unit?” said Morgan.
“Well, we were closer, sir, so they sent us,” replied Fred.
“Ah, yes, and who are ‘they’? My receptionist spoke to Close Protection Unit,” replied Morgan.
“How convenient it is that just when we needed help from MI5, they had a team on the ground in Reading who could be with us in fifteen minutes?” said Paddy sarcastically.
As the crew drove off, Fred began questioning P
addy about Will’s death. “Mr. Trimble, what were you doing in Reading at the time of William Dunlop’s death?”
“I’m not sure I like your line of questioning, Fred!” said Morgan.
“Forgive me,” said Fred. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this.”
“We were meeting for coffee to discuss the death at our office. Will wanted to keep a low profile, so I came out to Reading,” replied Paddy.
“Ah, yes, very good. He didn’t tell you anything like his life might be in danger?” said Fred.
Morgan and Paddy looked each other. Paddy turned back to Fred. “No, not that I can recall. He was concerned about what the press would make of the death at the office, that’s all,” replied Paddy.
***
This sort of suspicious conversation continued for more than forty minutes. It wasn’t until Morgan began making phone calls to fellow members of the ISC that Fred stopped talking. His look had changed from that of an inquisitive and curious intelligence officer to a menacing cold stare. Morgan was on the phone to the Secretary of the ISC organising the extraordinary general meeting.
“What’s going on?” asked Paddy. Instead of continuing on the M4 past Heathrow Airport towards Central London, the motorcade had turned onto the M25 which encircled London. In doing so, they had taken the northerly route.
“Just traffic, we’re going to go by a bit of a different route,” replied Fred.
“This is bullshit,” Paddy thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve ever met before, Fred. I also don’t recall giving you my name, so how did you know it when I got in the car?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Fred.
Paddy could see that Fred was subtly trying to reach inside his jacket. As he went to pull out a handgun, Paddy attacked Fred by choking him. The driver of the car went to pull over on the side of the motorway; however, Morgan grabbed Fred’s gun and immediately pointed it at the driver’s head. “Keep moving!”
Paddy had managed to subdue Fred, rendering him unconscious but still alive. Meanwhile, Morgan had also relieved the driver of his weapon. However, they had a problem - the rest of the motorcade had cottoned on to what had happened.
The Keepers of the Persian Gate Page 12