“Yes, well, I may have some bad news on that front.” Jamie hesitated before continuing. “Homeland Security has recalled me. They want me to convalesce in the USA.” Max and Todd looked forlorn at the news. Jamie smiled. “But don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be well enough to fly for at least two weeks.”
***
The Shadow, or more correctly, Kwong Chong Lee, made the final connections to the explosives and tested the circuits which would detonate the explosives from a remote location. He intended to drive the bus to within yards of the target before leaving the door open, as if schoolchildren were due back any second to occupy its empty seats.
Satisfied that a cursory inspection of the bus would not reveal the presence of the explosives, which were well concealed in the structure of the bus and in the space usually filled with air conditioning plant and pipework, the Shadow stepped out of the bus.
If Kwong Chong Lee’s calculations were correct, and they usually were, the immediate blast radius would be around sixty metres. Anyone in that circle would die instantly; some would be vaporised. From sixty to ninety metres away, some people would survive but would inevitably lose limbs, eyesight and hearing. Beyond that there would be damage from flying debris, burns from secondary explosions. Given the expected crowds, he would estimate that around thirty to fifty people would die, and perhaps a hundred would be injured. Best of all, for his clients and his own satisfaction, the bulk of the casualties would be Americans.
***
Jamie sat alone in her hospital bed. The various tubes connecting her to bags bringing in and taking out fluids would be removed in the morning, and then she could really start her recovery. Scanning the internet on her iPad, she searched for other potential targets but none was quite as alluring as the Schools Symposium. Something niggled at the back of her mind, however, and she knew instinctively that something was wrong.
Whenever she was concerned about something she could not bring to her recollection she would begin the slow process of de-mapping, that is to search her mind map for something that might trigger a memory or bring a blinding light of inspiration. With the warmth and the painkilling drugs swimming around her body, she was asleep before she had made her way through a quarter of her mind map.
Chapter 29
Park Entrance behind the Madrassa, Al Safa, Dubai:
26th February; 9am.
Todd had waited for Jamil for an hour before assuming that he was not going to show. He was disappointed. He had felt sure the boy’s conscience would oblige him to return to speak to the Australian.
Todd was walking to his car, a white Mitsubishi Pajero, possibly the most common 4x4 in Dubai, when he saw a smartly dressed young man walking towards the Madrassa. Todd stepped up to the man, who smiled as if he expected the visitor to ask directions. The man’s countenance darkened when Todd asked him if he knew where Jamil was today.
Panic gripped Javid as the Westerner spoke. Concerned about whether news of the abuse had spread beyond the walls of the Madrassa, he took Todd’s elbow and guided him back into the park, where he ensured that they were concealed behind a tree. In the distance, and unnoticed, Max began clicking away.
“Are you from Child Protective Services?”
Todd had no idea what the man was talking about, but he played his part well. “How did you know? Most of our care staff are Emirati. I’m only used for investigations.”
“I am a confidante of Jamil. He has spoken to me about things, and whilst I am concerned I am equally aware that young boys can tell lies. Having said all of that, I have sent Jamil to a place of safety as outlined in the Protective Services handbook. I may not dress like one, but I can assure you that I am a good Muslim.” The man’s dark eyes drilled into Todd.
“James Peachy, Child Protective Officer, Investigations branch.” Todd held out his hand. Javid Al Satr introduced himself before Todd continued. “Javid, I am delighted that Jamil has a protector. We were alerted to his problems by another person, a third party, and so I wanted to speak to Jamil quietly, just in case this was a wild goose chase.”
“I do not believe that it is a waste of your time, Mr Peachy, I would simply ask that your superiors give the council twenty four hours to consider the accusations and thereafter we would be happy to cooperate with the authorities. We all serve the same great God.”
“That we do,” Todd agreed. “Where’s Jamil now? Is he safe?”
“He is very safe. You will need to speak to his clinician, Hussein Hamady, at the Gulf Islamic Clinic on Jumeirah Road. It is just a few minutes’ drive from here. Rest assured, Mr Peachy, I will do everything I can with the council. All children are sacred, but those young men studying at the Madrassas are very special, and they need to be protected.” The man looked around nervously, then hurried off in the direction of the park exit.
“Flaming hell!” Todd muttered under his breath. “Did you catch all of that?” He looked in the direction of the trees opposite, where Max was emerging from the foliage with his thumbs up.
***
Hussein Hamady was a busy man who made no secret of the fact that, in his view, Jamil was feigning illness to get a few days off school. Still, he was still under observation, but if Javid had sent the two men to speak to the boy, Hussein had no objection. Jamil was an adult, after all.
Jamil was sitting alone in a lounge playing with a Game Boy when he caught sight of Todd and a man he had not seen before. They were both Westerners, and he still feared Westerners. Jamil set down the Game Boy and looked around for support as the two men sat close, facing him. There was no one else around.
“Jamil, we know about the abuse,” Todd said, bluffing. Max sat beside him, his expression deadly serious. “Abuse is not just a crime against God, it is a crime against the State, too.”
“I have done nothing wrong!” Jamil protested. “He said I was special. He told me Allah had sent me to him. I did not know such things were possible when he first did them to me. I felt filthy and unworthy. I clean myself many times a day, and yet I cannot rid myself of his smell and his…..” The boy couldn’t finish the sentence, but Max and Todd had already filled in the blanks.
“Jamil, the man who has desecrated your holy body for his own carnal desires is unworthy of leadership. He is not a true servant of Mohammed, peace be upon him.” The boy’s head dipped.
“Mullah Khaweini talks of the Holy Quran and of Jihad, but then he does filthiness. He is not God’s servant.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Jamil told Max and Todd all about how Khaweini operated, how he typed strange emails that were never sent, how he had lots of money brought to him late at night for investment. The boy explained his visits to Djibouti and the Bank of Burundi. He was even able to remember the name and number of the accounts he had deposited money into. Max wrote feverishly in his pad as the boy spilled out everything he knew.
“Jamil, we have to go now. Javid is your friend, a true servant of Allah. Mullah Khaweini is a criminal and a servant of the devil. Do you understand?” The boy nodded at Todd.
“We have to go now, but if you are in danger of abuse again call this number.” He gave the boy a landline number that began with a number four. “A lady there will help you get to a place of safety.”
The boy looked at the number and the name above it, Aara Wadid.
“Miss Aara looks after men and women who are abused. She is a good Muslim. She is from a powerful family; she will care for you.”
“We need to go, Todd, if we are to get to the Schools Symposium before the buses start to arrive,” Max reminded him.
***
Jamie was sitting up in an easy chair, chatting on the phone to Ron Styles at the Consulate. “Yes, thank you, Ron. If you and your wife want to bring me a treat, who am I to complain? I’m not going anywhere.”
“I wish I wasn’t going anywhere. I have to address a bunch of teenagers in two hours. I think I’d rather face the United Nations.”
Jamie giggled. “Yes, I h
eard about the Schools Symposium. Good luck.”
“Oh no, I’m not going the Schools Symposium. That’s largely for the International Schools. Most of the US kids will be at Jebel Ali, welcoming USS Enterprise on the first leg of its farewell trip around the Middle East.”
Every nerve in Jamie’s body started jangling.
Chapter 30
Armani Hotel, Burj Khalifa, Dubai:
26th February;11am.
Todd and Max were asked to leave their mobile phones in the car by the Brigadier, who was overseeing the security for the Symposium. “It is feared that the bomb may be triggered by a mobile phone signal,” the Brigadier had explained.
The road leading to the Armani Hotel and the parking areas were a sea of yellow as school buses were packed tightly into parking spaces. Every bus had been checked, and every driver had presented a valid pass, so far.
School children of all ages were gathering excitedly before being walked into the prestigious hotel by teachers, counting each child as it passed.
“I hope we were wrong about an attack, Todd. If so much as one of these kids are killed or injured I’ll rip Khaweini’s throat out myself before he can plead his innocence.”
Todd answered with a grim look. The excited cries of the children, running around carefree in the mild spring sunshine, was in stark contrast to the tension the authorities were experiencing.
The radio crackled into life. “Suspicious vehicle approaching. It is a school bus, but the licence plate is not on the database,” a disembodied voice announced. “Proceed with a boarding, but proceed with care.”
***
Rashli had been asked to drive the bus at the last minute by a friend whose wife was going into labour, which was odd, as Rashli hadn’t even known she was pregnant. Then, when he turned up at the school, the man at the gate told him that he was late and that all of the children had been crammed on to the other buses. He must take the bus to the Symposium and await the children for the return journey.
As he sat in a queue of similar buses awaiting the green traffic light, he looked for the security pass. He couldn’t find it. The lights changed for a moment, two buses passed through and then the bus in front of him stopped suddenly. Rashli stamped on the brakes and his jacket slid off the seat behind him and onto the floor. As he wasn’t going anywhere for a few moments, he decided to collect his jacket and retrieve the pass, ready for inspection. He was kneeling on the floor, picking up his loose change and other belongings, when all hell broke loose.
***
The Sergeant left two men at the rear of the bus and he and his colleague approached the driver’s door from the blind side. They were all wearing black protective gear, and had been told that the bus carried no children by a sniper placed on the partly-built Metro passenger footbridge opposite.
When they saw through the door that the driver’s seat was apparently empty, they went onto Red Alert Status. Pushing the doors open, they forced their way into the school bus and looked around. On the floor with his hand under the seat was a very scared Rashli.
“Hands up!” was repeated in English, Arabic and Hindi in quick succession. Rashli tried to get to his knees. As he rose he lifted his hands and in the right hand, clearly visible, was a mobile phone with a flashing red light.
The Sergeant had only a second to react. If the man pushed the send button they could all be dead in seconds. He placed two perfectly aimed shots into the man’s forehead, effectively stopping him from detonating the bomb. This was a tactic used on suicide bombers by the Israeli Army. The Sergeant picked up the mobile phone and yelled, “Target down! Bomb Squad now!” before exiting the bus.
***
Jamie had wasted valuable minutes in an effort to reach either Max or Todd. Convinced that the USS Enterprise was the real target, she dialled the Sheikh. A voice at the other end of the phone said that the Sheikh was busy dealing with a bomb that had been taken on a school bus to the Schools Symposium. “Thank God!” she breathed into the phone, realising that she must have sounded insane to the lady at the other end. Jamie excused herself, and sat back in the chair and relaxed. It appeared that the boys had been right all along.
***
Forty five minutes had passed before the Brigadier was free to give Max and Todd an update.
“The man we shot was Rashli Mukhergee, an Indian national and a reserve bus driver for the Wellington School on Sheikh Zayed Road. He was driving a bus that was not registered - why, we do not know - but it appears he was an innocent casualty. There are no explosives on the bus, and it is not the make and model you alerted us to originally.”
The two agents looked perplexed. “Are all the buses here, then?” Max asked.
“Yes, the area is secure. It appears that this was not the target.”
***
Jamie was starting in on her lunch when she saw a news bulletin on Dubai One TV. A pretty Arabic lady announced that there had been a security scare in Downtown, but it was a false alarm. People were encouraged to go about their business without fear.
Jamie dropped her fork and struggled to dress herself. The pains in her body were ignored as she raced to save the lives that she was now sure were at risk in Jebel Ali, around fifteen miles away along the main road. She pulled her shoes on with some effort, and had to wait whilst her head cleared, dizziness overwhelming her. “Not now, Jamie, not now,” she muttered to herself.
Jamie grabbed her mobile phone and headed for the lift. She saw staff staring at her, but no-one made any attempt to stop her. A minute later she was out of the main building and heading towards the Movenpick and a taxi rank. As she got to the crossing, another wave of nausea overtook her and she had to hold onto the fence for support.
A taxi pulled up beside her and the concerned driver leaned out of the window. “You OK, lady?” Jamie jumped into the cab and ordered him to drive to the docks at Jebel Ali. The driver was torn between accepting the large fare the long journey would bring, probably a hundred dirhams, and the risk of carrying a woman who looked so ill. In the end Jamie yelled, “Drive!” and he did.
***
Max took the driver’s seat and Todd retrieved the mobile phones from the glove box. When he switched them on they both had an urgent text message, the same text message, from Jamie. “Target is USS Enterprise at Jebel Ali – now.”
Todd relayed the message to Max, who sped off along Emaar Boulevard and on to Sheikh Zayed Road. They joined the road just a mile behind Jamie’s taxi.
Max drove like a madman, and Todd rang everyone from the Sheikh and the Brigadier to the US Consulate in an effort to get some action. In most cases they understood the urgency, but others had already suffered one fatality in a false alarm today, and they needed more convincing.
Chapter 31
USS Enterprise, Jebel Ali, Dubai:
26th February; 1pm.
Admiral Trey Jackson was justly proud of his ship and of his crew. The old carrier was on its last voyage of active service. The plan was to touch base at Jebel Ali and meet some US ex-pats before stocking up for a trip around the Gulf to say goodbye to all of those who had welcomed them over the years. Then, in June, they would be back in Dubai again, this time for an official visit with the leaders of the Emirates and the full panoply of ceremony that attended such events, including an enormous fireworks display.
Today, however, was a low key event. The Consul General had sent along a representative to speak on behalf of the American population of Dubai, and the Captain would respond for the crew and the US Navy.
As the sailors lined up on the deck facing the crowd, a High School Band played an unfortunately discordant version of ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’, whilst beaming, proud - and presumably tone deaf - parents looked on. Next would be ten minutes of speeches, and then the sailors would cross the gangplank and mingle with the school kids, their teachers and their parents.
***
The Shadow had arrived at the temporary marquee which had been set up on the la
ndside of the dock at just the right time. Hundreds of kids were climbing out of buses and racing into the air conditioned marquee, which housed a photographic history of the Enterprise and its forebears of the same name.
After a few minutes, when the buses were all empty, the stewards directed the buses to the dockside where they were lined up by a marshal in Naval whites, ready to collect the children after the meet and greet.
US Navy personnel and the Port police patrolled the area, because in other circumstances individuals were only allowed dockside if they were travelling or had business on the dockside. An exception had been granted to these strict rules by the authorities, who saw no harm in children celebrating this way, as long as no-one could clamber aboard a vessel unseen and illegally exit the country.
Kwong Chong Lee parked the bus and avoided the other drivers, who were all Indian, having set the charges. He checked the mobile phone app he had designed to remotely set the timer attached to the detonator, and pretended to show interest in the American Consulate Official who was making a joke about the USS Enterprise being bigger, more technically advanced and housing more people than Captain Kirk’s Starship Enterprise in Star Trek.
As the man spoke, Lee slipped through the crowd and headed landside. He needed to be far away when the bomb exploded or he would be trapped by the authorities, who would automatically lock all gates. As he passed the personnel gate a uniformed man looked at him questioningly, as if to ask why he was leaving early. The Taiwanese man lifted his phone and said “No signal.” Whether the man understood or not, he nodded, and Kwong Chong Lee exited through the marquee and headed towards the taxi rank a hundred yards away.
***
Jamie arrived at Jebel Ali just ahead of Max and Todd, almost throwing a purple coloured hundred dirham note at the taxi driver, who was pleased at the fifteen dirham tip. She tried to exit the taxi and fell prey to another dizzy spell. A kindly man steadied her, ensured she was all right, and then stepped into the taxi.
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