“Sir, I’ll explain it all on the plane. I’ve spoken to the senior agent covering Clarkson Nuclear and we need to install Paddy in the operation as a matter of urgency,” said McGregor.
“It better be a good one this time, McGregor. The last time I trusted you, we nearly lost the President’s fucking helicopter in hostile territory,” replied Craig.
“I thought you’d forgot about that,” said McGregor.
“I have the eyes of a tiger, the nose of a wolf and the memory of an elephant, boy!” said Craig.
The second jet was slightly more upmarket than the one Paddy and McGregor had flown to Newark. As Paddy and McGregor sat down, Craig poured himself a drink.
“So, McGregor. Tell all,” said Craig.
“Sir, Paddy Trimble is British Army Legal Services. He’s also just been appointed by the new British Intelligence and Security Committee as an Emergency Counsel and Investigator…” said McGregor.
“Wow, that’s a mouthful. Wait a second until I write all that down. Choose your next words carefully, boy, ‘cause I swear if they ain’t good, it’ll be you before the Senate Committee,” said Craig.
“Paddy has uncovered a spy ring in a prominent British law firm which advises various intelligence agencies in the UK,” explained McGregor. “At the time he discovered they had been infiltrated, the firm in question, Sefton & Grey, was one of the odds-on favourites to win a lucrative legal contract with the ISC. The ISC now has overarching access to intelligence matters across the UK government. So you see, if they were successful in their bid, then the spy ring would have infiltrated the UK government intelligence network.”
“I see, where do you think the source of the spy ring is coming from?” asked Craig.
“Well we don’t know, but…” said McGregor.
“I am pretty certain that the men who tried to kill us last night on the Isle of Gigha have something to do with it,” said Paddy.
“Yes, well, we have another issue. The Brits have caught Abdullah Atwah selling materials for a dirty bomb to Al Qaeda,” explained McGregor.
“Abdullah Atwah, but he’s…”
“Head of Pakistani Intelligence? Yeah, I know,” said McGregor.
“The Brits are trying him this weekend in an undisclosed location, before a secret court. Problem is they have witnesses, one of which is a major terrorist target. Given recent breaches of security, Paddy needs to ensure these incidents are not connected,” explained McGregor.
“Sure, delay the trial,” replied Craig.
“No can do, strict procedural rules prevent it at this juncture,” said Paddy.
“Was I asking you, son?” said Craig.
“We think that Clarkson Nuclear has a connection to the infiltration, which is why Paddy has to go to Houston,” explained McGregor.
Just as the CIA jet began to taxi out of the hangar, Paddy noticed a commotion surround the plane on which both he and McGregor had arrived. In the hangar, an Arab man was being held to the ground at gunpoint by several agents.
“What the…?” Craig ordered the plane to stop and marched down the steps to the tarmac. He walked over to the area where the man was being pinned down. “Well, well, well, look what we got here.”
“We found this man onboard, hiding in one of the compartments on the plane,” volunteered a CIA agent.
“You mean to say we flew the whole way from Scotland with this guy and we didn’t even know?” said McGregor.
Paddy squatted to get a closer look. He thought he recognised the man’s face. “Who sent you?”
The man didn’t respond.
“Listen to me, I’m the only person who can help you right now. If you don’t speak, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison. Now, who sent you?” asked Paddy.
This time, the man only responded in Arabic.
“Can we get a translator around here?” shouted Craig.
They dragged the man over to a side room and set him down in a chair. Paddy stopped Craig and McGregor in their tracks as they came to the door. “Guys, leave this one with me. If I can’t get him to talk in ten minutes then he’s yours,” said Paddy.
“You got five minutes, boy, then I’m personally punting this S.O.B. all the way to Guantanamo,” declared Craig.
Paddy walked into the room slowly surveying the man. He was scrawny and looked very afraid. “I know you speak English, friend. We’ve met before, haven’t we?” asked Paddy. The man looked confused. “You were in that meeting in Macao in November last year, weren’t you? You worked for the Mechanic didn’t you? Tell me, are you still working for him?” The man just stared back, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier.
“Now you listen to me. There may be a way for you out of this. But I know who you are, and if you don’t help me, I can assure you, Mohat Naseem, that I will make sure your family ends up back in Saudi Arabia, including your wife and your children. And you know what will happen…”
Paddy came closer, until he was inches from the man’s face. “Last chance, brother,” said Paddy as he looked the man directly in the eye. There was no response.
“Ok, I’m sorry this was the way it had to be…” said Paddy as he turned to walk out the door.
“WAIT!” screamed the man. “Ok, I’ll tell you…”
After about an hour, Paddy had extracted all the information he needed. Mohat would be held under house arrest near Langley until the situation blew over. In the meantime, Paddy, Craig and McGregor boarded their flight for Houston.
Craig turned to Paddy. “So what did you find out?”
“The people who tried to kill us last night were a hit squad from the Middle East,” said Paddy.
“And who were they?” asked McGregor.
“The Keepers of the Persian Gate,” said Paddy.
Paddy explained what Mohat Naseem had told him: that the Keepers of the Persian Gate were a cabal of military, intelligence and political leaders in the Middle East.
“And why would the Keepers of the Persian Gate want you dead?” asked Craig.
“Because they thought we were acting on behalf of Clarkson Nuclear,” replied Paddy.
“Why would they think that? I mean, why would they go to such extreme lengths to kill people working for Clarkson? And where do Sefton & Grey, Dunlop & McLaine, and William Dunlop’s death all fit into this?” asked McGregor.
“Good questions. All of this emphasises the need for me to go to speak to William Dunlop’s family,” said Paddy.
“Na-ah. Not happening,” said McGregor.
“But why?” asked Paddy.
“They’re with the NSA now, there’s no way. It would require the approval of the NSA which we ain’t gonna get,” replied McGregor.
As the flight continued, Paddy pondered the situation. The longer he thought about it, the more and more bizarre it seemed to him that the Mechanic had worked with the Keepers of the Persian Gate. Something just didn’t seem to fit right. The facts didn’t add up.
***
The flight from Newark to Houston was less than four hours. As they landed at George Bush Intercontinental airport, the sun was rising. Armoured vehicles waited on the tarmac to drive Paddy, Craig and McGregor to rendezvous with the Congressman. They were due to meet at the Lancaster, a classic old hotel in downtown Houston.
“Houston is an enormous city, the fourth largest in the United States. People don’t realise how big it is. It’s a hundred miles across from the farthest city limit in the east to the farthest city limit in the west,” explained Craig.
“Jesus, that’s almost the same size as the country I grew up in,” replied Paddy.
“Yeah, and it’s the richest city too. No recession here. All hard working Texans. The rest of the country could learn a thing or two. Oh, look, there she is…” said Craig, pointing to the horizon.
Out of the smog, Paddy could just make out several skyscrapers. Industry was a way of life in this part of the world. It was also roasting hot and humid; when they exited the a
ircraft it was approximately 29 degrees Celsius, and that was just in the morning. As they passed the Heights, they entered into the leafy suburbs and parkland on their approach to downtown Houston. Every other person seemed to drive a pickup of some description, usually either a Chrysler or a Ford F-something. There was a strange beauty about the place which was intangible and hard to describe, thought Paddy. They followed the one-way system through the inner city parks and past the aquarium, towards the Lancaster.
When they pulled up outside the Lancaster, they were greeted by several valets who escorted them into the main reception. The interior of the building looked like it belonged in the 1920s. The Art Deco features blended well with the modern adjustments which had been made. The smell of food from the restaurant on the ground floor was very inviting. Paddy hadn’t eaten much for a few days by this stage.
Paddy and the rest of the CIA entourage were escorted to a rather old-fashioned elevator. It had a sliding door which was operated manually by a lift attendant. They took the elevator to the twelfth floor and were led to the Congressman’s suite, where his security team greeted them at the door.
“Agent McGregor, the Congressman is expecting you.”
“Thank you,” replied McGregor as they walked into the hotel suite. It was a magnificent set-up with a spectacular view of downtown Houston and the surrounding districts. The Congressman was seated outside on a long terraced balcony and smoking a large cigar - Cuban, Paddy guessed. The crew walked out to greet him.
“Congressman Charles, it’s a pleasure.” Said McGregor.
“Ah yes, Mr. McGregor. Williamson has told me all about you. Now, where is our star man?” asked Congressman Charles.
“That would be Mr. Trimble here, sir,” replied McGregor.
Paddy stepped forward. “Paddy Trimble, sir, it’s an honour.”
The team sat down to enjoy the sunshine and a hearty Texan breakfast. After a few of the Congressman’s anecdotes, the conversation turned to more serious matters when case officer Williamson arrived. He was the man who had been running the original operation to infiltrate Clarkson Nuclear and he was there to brief Paddy and the Congressman. Williamson had worked through the night drawing up a plan to gain access to Clarkson’s secure servers in order to provide the CIA with as much information as possible about Clarkson’s recent activities.
“Gentlemen, the shadow board operates much like a dictatorship,” explained Williamson. “The chairman of the board holds all the power and cannot be removed from his position for any reason during his tenure, which is usually seven years. We do not yet know who the chairman is…”
“I do, it’s Bob Jackson,” interrupted the Congressman.
“How do you know that?” asked McGregor.
“I was asked by him to join the board,” replied the Congressman.
“You never told us that,” said Williamson.
“Oh, well, in the hustle and bustle of all of this I must have forgotten,” replied the Congressman.
“Sir, is there anything else you would like to inform us of before we embark on this operation?” asked McGregor.
“I don’t think so,” replied the Congressman. “I was invited to join by Bob because I used to sit on the Senate Committee that reviewed the Energy Department. I assume that’s why he thinks I’d be a good fit with Clarkson.”
“Bob or… Robert Jackson is William Dunlop’s father in law,” said McGregor.
“I thought you said he was NSA?” said Paddy.
“He is,” replied McGregor.
The briefing then turned more specifically to Paddy and the Congressman’s respective roles during the operation. Williamson provided the Congressman and Paddy with identical and matching tie pins which featured an American flag on them. Each was equipped with a transmitter and a state of the art camera which would send live video back to a nearby CIA field base.
“It means we will be able to see what you see during the meeting. Langley will also be hooked up to the transmission and will provide almost instantaneous facial recognition for the shadow board members in attendance,” explained Williamson.
Williamson predicted that Paddy and the Congressman would be asked to leave the meeting while the Congressman’s appointment to the board was discussed and voted upon. If this didn’t happen, then Paddy was to make an excuse to leave the meeting. “I imagine something like an important telephone call would suffice.”
Williamson pulled a map up on his iPad, showing a basic internal layout of the building. The CIA had obtained the plans by hacking into the local planning agency for the area. Williamson zoomed in to show the floors on which Paddy would be operating. The boardroom was on the seventeenth floor. The building’s security would be monitoring Paddy’s every move. After leaving the meeting, he was to proceed down the hallway towards the elevator.
“When you get to the only elevator on that floor, you will notice a fire door beside it,” said Williamson. “Enter it: it is not alarmed. However, there is a second door after that which is alarmed. You must disable the fire alarm on the left side. This is a case of unscrewing the front panel below the break glass section and removing a fuse. Be very careful you do not rush this or the alarm will sound immediately and you’ll be detected. Once you get through that door you will follow the stairs to the seventh floor. There are no security cameras on this set of stairs and you should be able to move freely. When you get to the seventh floor, the door should be open as there have been painting and refurbishment works in progress.”
Intelligence indicated that the refurbishment work only happened in the morning, and therefore work should have finished by the time Paddy and the Congressman entered the building. Because the floor was being refurbished, all computer workstations had been removed.
“Despite this, each floor has a server room. This room is probably locked. To get inside, you will need to remove a ceiling panel and go over the top of the partition wall. It will be the same drill once over the other side,” said Williamson.
What Paddy needed to do was attach a special hacking key to a secure yellow cable which ran into the floor from the server. The device would bypass Clarkson’s security and would give Langley a temporary window to access the Clarkson network. Once this was accomplished Paddy was to then leave the seventh floor as he had found it, and return to the meeting.
“Sounds straightforward, never that easy though…” said Paddy.
“Damn straight,” joked Craig.
“Tell me, Williamson, how long have you been in the field?” asked McGregor.
“Guys, this is the best scenario we could come up with in the time available,” explained Williamson.
“And how do you want me to behave while this is all going on?” asked the Congressman.
“For your part, Congressman, it is essential that you just act as you would do normally. Otherwise, the shadow board might smell a rat,” explained McGregor. “Just try to face everyone in the room at some stage, so we can get an ID of all the folk there, sir.”
After the briefing, the Congressman went off to prepare for the meeting while Paddy reviewed the basic plans for the building. About an hour later, the cars arrived to take the Congressman to the meeting. Paddy jumped into the back of the Congressman’s car and sat beside him. McGregor, Williamson and Craig would be in a convoy of CIA vehicles which would tail the Congressman’s vehicle to the entrance of the Clarkson Nuclear compound near the Katy Freeway. After that, they would branch off and head to a nearby temporary field base which had been set up for the operation.
The journey to the Clarkson Nuclear compound only took about ten minutes, made faster by the police escort which shadowed the Congressman’s car. As they arrived at the compound, the significant presence of company security at the gates spoke volumes about how closely Clarkson Nuclear guarded its privacy. There wasn’t even a sign on the gate; it was all very anonymous. However, that changed once the Congressman’s car arrived at the front door of the building, which was some distance b
ack from the main road and hidden by a forest of trees. Here, the Clarkson Nuclear sign was made of solid gold and sat out from the building. The atmosphere also became more welcoming, albeit only slightly. There were still plenty of armed security guards dotted about the place, Paddy observed.
A man walked out to greet the Congressman and Paddy as they exited their vehicle. He was quite a young man, definitely younger than Paddy.
“Good morning, Congressman, it’s an honour, welcome to Clarkson Nuclear. I am Jack Robinson and I am the secretary of the shadow board. I handle all matters associated with the meetings such as attendance, minutes and agendas. The board will be convening shortly. I would ask that you go up to the seventeenth floor boardroom. Several others have already arrived. Shannon here will direct you,” explained Jack Robinson.
The Congressman and Paddy duly trailed behind Shannon, an exceedingly pretty blonde with a derriere that made her extremely pleasant to follow. She led them through a huge reception hall complete with Greek columns. It was clear that Clarkson Nuclear had no shortage of funds when it built the place. Shannon took the pair to the elevator.
“This is a big place,” commented Paddy.
“Well, you know the saying, gentlemen, everything is bigger in Texas,” said Shannon, turning in their direction to reveal a most prominent cleavage. She gave the Congressman a great big wink.
When the elevator opened, it did so into a waiting area. The boardroom itself was partially visible through a glass door at the end of the corridor. It jutted out from the building and was a glass structure, sort of like the bridge of a cruise ship. As they were led towards the boardroom, Paddy suddenly saw a man that he recognised, in conversation with someone on the other side of the glass door. It was Adam Scott!
Paddy had to think quickly. It was immediately clear to him that he couldn’t attend this meeting. Although he had never met Scott in person, there was a real risk that Scott would identify Paddy. Not really knowing what to do, Paddy subtly nudged the Congressman to get his attention when Shannon wasn’t looking. The Congressman turned to look at Paddy who drew his hand across his neck as if to say ‘stall’. Realising that something was awry, the Congressman stopped Shannon in her tracks.
The Keepers of the Persian Gate Page 16