Latent Hazard rkadika-1

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Ewan looked at the PM. ‘In addition, there would be a feelgood factor from the news coverage following their capture. However, our priority is to scupper their plans and then apprehend them.’

  Kate spoke up. ‘The four Chechens are dangerous killers. If they were cornered in a public place, it could get very messy and the collateral damage could be large. If we follow them, we can pick them up well away from innocent bystanders. I should make it very clear that we would only wish them to be allowed to escape to the trawlers if and only if their Kornet and Vektor weapons are out of action.’

  The PM thought carefully about what she had just said. ‘My last question is: could you please explain your fears relating to the financial markets?’

  Rafi glanced at Kate and Aidan. They nodded at him. ‘Could I answer that one, please, Prime Minister?’

  ‘Yes, go ahead.’

  Rafi thought for a moment about where it would be best to start and eventually decided to start at the beginning, with the description of their three PhD theses. ‘John and Jeremy discussed the ringleaders’ academic work with a senior lecturer who was a contemporary of theirs – he described their dissertations as being incisive and of exemplary standard. However, to quote him: If one puts them together, they are the instruction kit for building a financial atomic bomb.’

  The PM shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘Sheikh Tufayl is conservatively worth $10 billion,’ continued Rafi. ‘Jameel Furud, through his control of Prima Terra, has around ?30 billion of funds under his management; Maryam has, we estimate, a similar sum under her control. While Talal, in contrast, has used the sheikh’s money to build up the terrorist infrastructure. They have billions at their disposal, and intend to use it to wreck the Government’s finances.’ He stopped for a moment, letting the point sink home. ‘The terrorist activities should be viewed in the context of the continuing uneasiness in investor sentiment. Their ultimate aim is to trigger another stock market crash, which will enable them to make massive profits from their positions in the derivative markets.’

  Rafi stopped and looked around the table to check that the guests had taken on board what he’d been saying. ‘Aidan has been doing excellent work on the scale of their intervention into these derivative markets.’ He leant forward and looked past Kate at Aidan.

  ‘Prime Minister; in a nutshell, if they achieve their ambition they’ll saddle the derivatives markets with losses in the region of ?50-100 billion,’ added Aidan. ‘I have identified a sufficient number of contracts to confirm the scale of the numbers involved.’

  The Prime Minister looked at Rafi and then at Aidan. ‘Well, there is a simple answer: we close down the market and unwind the positions in the derivative contracts.’

  Rafi looked at the PM. ‘Might I enlarge, please?’ he enquired politely.

  ‘Yes,’ came the slightly clipped reply.

  ‘Also the terrorists have identified a number of areas where Government guarantees exist. Their aim is to bring billions of pounds of debts and liabilities back on to the Government’s balance sheet. For example, by attacking nuclear power stations – there will be colossal clean-up costs, plus the likelihood of large accelerated decommissioning costs. Then there will big costs to stop the outsourced public sector services, that they control, from collapsing. Against the backdrop of a stock market crash, this would put the weakened Government finances into a perilous position,’ concluded Rafi.

  ‘This all seems rather far-fetched if you ask me,’ commented the Defence Secretary. ‘My view is that the greedy bastards want to make a financial killing, nothing more nothing less. Let’s stop the trading in the contracts that Aidan has identified and get on with catching them.’

  The PM looked at Aidan and Rafi. ‘Do you believe that the Government’s finances are in peril?’

  ‘Yes, sir. These terrorists aren’t just financially astute and used to dealing with huge sums of money; they are also exceedingly devious and clever. They are determined to inflict as much damage as possible. It is as if they have declared war on our economy.’

  Rafi sensed that the Defence Secretary disagreed. ‘In the short time available to us, we’ve looked at the two most obvious derivatives contracts and can confirm that they have built up big positions. I strongly believe that they will have also been trading in Frankfurt and Chicago. It would be nigh on impossible to unwind the myriad of positions they, and possibly their associates, have amassed.’

  ‘This is bloody preposterous!’ burst out the Defence Secretary. ‘This is all too much. You’re exaggerating – trying to play things up for your own self-importance! Have none of this Prime Minister – get on and stop the terrorist attacks. We can let the Treasury and the Bank of England sort out the financial problems next week, as and when they occur.’

  Meanwhile, Aidan was doing an excellent impression of a boiler building up a head of steam: his ears had gone red and his eyes had narrowed. He was close to telling the Defence Secretary exactly what he thought of him.

  ‘Do you have a solution?’ asked the Prime Minister.

  ‘We believe that we do, sir,’ replied Rafi. ‘All we ask is that the authorities don’t procrastinate. We’re drawing up a detailed report for the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Board of the Bank of England as to how these financial problems can be contained. We would like to put these proposals in front of them as soon as we know how bad, or otherwise, things are going to be. In light of the impending attacks it’s our suggestion that the London financial markets do not open tomorrow. This will give us…’

  ‘That is exactly what I suggested!’ burst out the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Not quite,’ Aidan added quietly. ‘Your suggestion was to unwind the terrorists’ derivatives positions; ours is to close the markets for a day to give us time to counter their financial attacks. What we have to avoid is procrastination; if the markets pass the point of no return, I’m absolutely certain that financial Armageddon will become an unstoppable reality.’

  The Prime Minister looked perturbed.

  The Air Chief Marshal spoke. ‘Prime Minister, might I make a suggestion? I hear what our friends here have been saying. As I see it, they are experts in their field and we’re not. If what they say is correct, it could have damaging consequences that far outweigh the physical damage that the terrorists might inflict. Without a prosperous economy and a fully operational banking sector our democracy would be undermined. Let us focus on stopping the terrorists – their missile and suicide bomber attacks – but at the same time run with Mr Khan and Mr Gilchrist’s assertions and get the experts and the top decision makers at the Treasury and the Bank to consider their grave predictions, as soon as practical.’

  The PM nodded. ‘Thank you, Sir Nigel; that makes good sense.’

  The commissioner cast his eyes in Rafi’s direction. ‘You had something else to say, I believe?’

  ‘Not more pessimism!’ exclaimed the Defence Secretary in an irritated tone.

  Rafi smiled. ‘No sir, actually some good news for once. If we can stop the markets from falling and hold long interest rates where they are until, say, the middle of next week, the terrorists’ positions in the derivative markets will become untenable. Their margin calls will become larger and larger, and they will be financially wiped out. This will eliminate several billion pounds from their coffers, damage many of the shadier banks and set back the terrorist cause by months if not years.’

  He stopped and glanced at the PM. ‘Sir, we have a plan.’ He paused, ‘Government real estate investment trusts could be created, thus providing the Government with a source of finance that will enable it to meet these impending financial obligations as and when they arise. It will remove the need to tap the gilts markets, and will help the Government refinance its increased borrowings resulting from the bail out of the UK banking system.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say that sooner?’ interjected the tetchy Defence Secretary.

  The Prime Minister smiled. ‘So there�
��s a silver lining – as long as we take on board your solution and you get it right.’

  ‘Yes, Prime Minister.’

  ‘Right, back to matters at hand,’ said the PM. ‘The outstanding question that we need to answer is: do the terrorists have a contingency plan “B” in place? And if so, how much damage might a Kornet missile inflict? I’d be very interested to hear your views, Air Chief Marshal.’

  ‘The damage could be extensive. If MI5 are confident that they know where the terrorists are going to attack in all but one of the locations, why give them a second chance by activating COBRA?’

  ‘Ewan?’

  ‘From MI5’s standpoint we can’t believe our good fortune in finding where the attacks are likely to come from. Why risk tipping the terrorists off?’

  ‘Defence Secretary?’

  ‘We’ve everything in place to run such an operation from COBRA. And how certain are we that these properties will be used by the terrorists? I believe that the two moles in COBRA should be apprehended so that we can get COBRA up and running, using the advantages that its set up will give us. I’d be willing to take the seemingly minute risk that there isn’t a third mole… However, I will fall into line if everyone else believes COBRA isn’t the right way forward at this point in time.’

  ‘Commissioner, what are your views on COBRA?’

  ‘The consequences of the terrorists swapping to a plan “B” are, in my opinion, too great a risk to contemplate whilst they and the four Kornet missile launchers are at large. Perhaps, sir, you might like to take a look at the emergency operations room we’ve set up downstairs before you make up your mind?’

  The PM turned to Ewan. ‘Please arrest the two COBRA suspects without tipping off the terrorists, and see if you can discover how they were going to make contact.’

  ‘Yes, sir. We have them under surveillance.’

  The PM looked at Kate and her team.

  ‘We owe you a great debt of gratitude for all your work and insight into the terrorists’ activities, and thank you for placing our troubles into context. Mr Khan, thank you for your tenacity. And my thanks to the rest of you.’

  Kate took that as the invitation to leave. She and her team filed out of the room.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Jeremy received a call on his mobile. ‘Well, I’m damned.’ He listened a little longer and then said, ‘Thank you.’

  Jeremy looked across at John. ‘My colleagues have interviewed one of the COBRA suspects. He gave them the phone number he was to ring and the phrase he was to use each time COBRA was activated. They traced the landline number as the ex-directory number of a special press adviser. However, the call was to be redirected through to the voicemail box of a mobile phone. And – would you bloody well believe it? – the mobile is currently located on the outskirts of Aldermaston, 200 metres away from where the suicide bombers are holed up in the horsebox. It’s a bit of luck; we had assumed that they were all together.’

  Kate and Rafi settled down and went through their paperwork to see if they had missed anything that could lead them to the missing target. Hours later they had still found nothing.

  Rafi felt exhausted. He turned to Kate. ‘I need sleep.’

  ‘How about I tuck you in?’ she asked with a mischievous smile.

  ‘Not tonight, thank you,’ he replied. ‘Could you wake me at 4 a.m. please – or earlier, if I’m needed?’

  ‘Will do,’ promised Kate. Rafi walked down the back stairs to the cells, grabbed a blanket and pillow and lay down on his bed. His mind started to clear. He got up, knelt down and for the first time in over a week said his prayers. Then he got into bed, and within moments, he was out for the count.

  Just before 4 a.m., Rafi was woken by Jeremy. He was groggy and struggled to get his brain back into gear. Strong black coffee was waiting for him upstairs.

  ‘Hey, you still look rough,’ said Kate cheerily as Rafi walked in. ‘You’ve chosen a good time to join us. Things are hotting up in the Ops Room. It’s like a game of chess. If you come down the corridor with me, I’ll bring you up to speed.’

  Kate started putting Rafi in the picture. ‘Emma, John and Aidan’s team are catching up on some sleep down in the cells. The duty sergeant has never known the cells so full of sober people. The ’s mood has improved; it seems first impressions were deceiving – in fact he’s rather good at his job.’ She paused. ‘As you’ll see, the Air Chief Marshal has brought in a specialist anti-terrorism expert and a couple of senior officers to act as coordinators.’

  Rafi tentatively entered the Ops Room. It was buzzing. Kate and he stood out of the way to one side. The video-conference screen to his left was linked up with the SAS command centre. The Air Chief Marshal, Brigadier Harold Sparkman and Colonel Paul Gray were discussing the first operation – the capture of the two suicide bombers and Kaleem Shah at Aldermaston. The colonel gave instructions and two teams, red and blue, were deployed. The plan was to overwhelm the suicide bombers and the journalist at precisely the same moment.

  The two suicide bombers were not expected to be much of a problem. They were not professional soldiers, but they did have two large bombs in their horsebox. Speed and the element of surprise were going to be critical.

  The SAS commander reported that the two bombers were, to all intents and purposes, tucked up in the living quarters of the horsebox and appeared to be sleeping fitfully.

  Kaleem Shah was a different matter. He had had many years’ experience of working in war zones. He was undoubtedly a cautious and capable soldier. The fact that he’d opted to sleep a couple of hundred metres away from the two terrorists suggested that he was expecting the unexpected.

  The infrared sensors had identified the journalist as lying quietly across the back seat of the Jeep. The vehicle was positioned such that it had a line of sight through to the horsebox and a second 4x4, but was largely screened by twiggy vegetation and small saplings.

  It was all quiet in and around the large Jeep and the horsebox. The two SAS teams silently approached the vehicles and waited for their orders.

  Rafi watched, totally caught up in the proceedings. Unlike watching TV, this was real. He felt his heart pounding.

  Just then Colonel Gray gave the command for the two assaults. There was a momentary delay and then, from a video link, there was the sound of two muffled explosions. The speaker crackled as it picked up the voice of the red team leader who was commanding a team of three against the journalist and his Jeep. ‘We’ve secured the vehicle and have captured the journalist. He didn’t put up a struggle. We found two booby traps outside the vehicle. Nothing too sophisticated, but nasty enough to take off a leg.’

  The blue team simultaneously descended on the horsebox, found nothing untoward protecting it and seized the two suicide bombers, dragging them from their sleeping bags out into the open.

  At that moment a loud bang echoed around the room. The horsebox erupted into a fireball.

  ‘Shit! The bastard had a radio-controlled device up his sleeve,’ was heard from the speaker.

  ‘Blue team! Come in blue team!’ There was silence.

  Two further loud explosions were heard as the terrorists’ explosives went up.

  The Air Chief Marshal looked at the colonel. ‘Not a good start Paul, is it?’

  The silence was followed by a muffled voice across the video link.

  ‘Jesus, that was close,’ said a shaky voice. ‘Two of us are singed, but otherwise fine; two have suffered minor injuries from flying debris, but my corporal has an eighteen-inch piece of aluminium sticking out of his thigh. And the two suicide bombers are in a bad way – one has a piece of shrapnel in his chest. They had no protective clothing on and both are badly burnt.’

  ‘Get the three terrorists out of there and into protective custody. As far as everyone is concerned, the suicide bombers are dead, got that?’ ordered Colonel Gray.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The journalist had attached a small radio-controlled explosive devic
e to the fuel tank of the horsebox, which had ignited around 100 litres of diesel.

  Colonel Gray gave the order, ‘Initiate phase two.’ The dull thud of an explosion in the distance was audible. The video screen showed a section of Aldermaston’s outer fence with a gaping hole and a nearby building on fire, billowing black smoke.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’ remarked Jeremy, who had materialised from nowhere and was standing next to Rafi. ‘Gives the impression to the other terrorists that they were successful, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Good work,’ added the Air Chief Marshal.

  The SAS command centre came online. ‘Some plans and a spare timer for a detonator were found in Kaleem Shah’s vehicle. The plans mark two buildings that were to be attacked. Both contain low-level radioactive materials; nothing really dangerous, but sufficient to close the plant if released. Odd though, the timer had been tampered with. Whatever the setting, it would have gone off after about five seconds. Also the blue team leader reports that the explosives were packed into rucksacks, just like at Bishopsgate.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Colonel Gray.

  The commissioner was thoughtful. ‘Well, that explains why the bomber at Bishopsgate got caught in the blast. He thought that he would have far more time to get away than he actually did. A five-second stroll from the bomb’s location to where his body was found fits in with the time delay on the fuse – so he wasn’t a suicide bomber, just a servant set up by his masters!’