The PM smiled and nodded. ‘Consider it done.’
‘Detective Inspector, is there anything we might do for you?’
Kate thought for a moment. ‘Could I have a couple of weeks’ leave starting as of Monday evening? I’d like to recharge my batteries and get to know someone I’ve recently met,’ she said with a grin.
Rafi felt a warm glow building inside him. He looked across at Kate approvingly. The Prime Minister nodded. ‘I suggest that you speak to your boss and say that I asked you to spend a couple of weeks overseeing Mr Khan’s recuperation, following the unfortunate events at Paddington Green.’
‘Sir, there is one other thing,’ said Rafi. ‘It’s more a comment rather than a wish. I’m not a vindictive man; however, in my experience as a fund manager, the vast majority of people in positions of influence get there because they’re good at their job or, in a few cases, because no one else is willing to pick up a poisoned chalice.’
Rafi put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tape. ‘I have here a recording of the interview between a junior minister and me. He was sent with a press entourage by the stand-in Home Secretary to interview me minutes before the Stratford missiles were launched – no doubt to use his actions as spin to deflect what was going on elsewhere. This is the original tape. There are no copies.’
Rafi hesitated. ‘Sir, the contents are, I believe, political dynamite. On second thoughts, Prime Minister, you would be better off not listening to it. Hypothetically speaking, if it transpired that the Stratford missile attack could have been averted, had it not been for an obsession with spin which fatally delayed key information getting through, it would damage politicians and politics irreparably. And currently, there’s more than enough to sort out; starting a blame game would only be counterproductive.’ Rafi hesitated again. ‘As I see it, a growing number of politicians spout forth initiatives and policies, but have little or no idea of change management and the workings of the real world. They’ve become obsessed with spin and looking good in the eyes of the media and have forgotten about implementation.’
The PM looked tense.
‘What I ask,’ continued Rafi, ‘Is that whoever listens to this tape should consider whether or not spin interfered with the course of events. For example, without the obsession with spin, would the train have been stopped sooner and thus been outside the terrorist’s line of sight? If they agree that the Stratford attack could have been prevented, I ask you to set up a task force to report on how the Civil Service can change the way they and politicians deal with the media, such that the current practice of spinning, giving misleading information and part-truths, becomes a thing of the past. As I see it, at the moment too many senior politicians have little more than political research and think tank experience, and have become obsessed with perception rather than practicalities and substance.’
The Prime Minister looked at Rafi. ‘Are you telling me that this tape is evidence that spin by a member of my Government prevented you from stopping a terrorist attack? And that this is the only copy?’
Rafi nodded and said, ‘I couldn’t possibly comment Prime Minister, but I can assure you, you do not want to hear the contents of the tape.’
The PM thought for a few moments. ‘I shall do as you request and if the head of the Civil Service confirms that the contents are as inflammatory as you say, I shall indeed ask him to undertake a full root and branch review of how politicians, their spokespeople and the Civil Service deal with the media.’ He stopped, deep in thought, for what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than a few seconds.
‘I will go further; if spin has corrupted the system, I will introduce an independent verification process.’ The PM paused. ‘It will be overseen by a select committee, whose members will be chosen by a secret ballot of MPs. This committee will be tasked with bringing into the open blatant spin, barefaced lies, halftruths and white lies. Offenders will henceforth have to face this committee and if they are not cleared of wrongdoing, they will have to make a public apology and correct their errors on the record. Furthermore, their apologies will be added alongside the relevant sections of Hansard requiring amendment or clarification. The committee will have teeth to investigate and bring people to account; these powers will include the ability to suspend members of both Houses and, in extremis, debar the individual from public service.’ The PM went silent again for a moment, then went on, ‘On reflection, I am prepared to go further and widen the powers of the committee to include all public officials who blatantly deceive in order to further their or their party’s own ends.’
‘Thank you Prime Minister.’
The door to the office opened. ‘Your next meeting is ready to start, Prime Minister.’
‘Thank you, SJ.’
The PM looked at Kate and Rafi, and held out his hand. ‘It’s time for me to be elsewhere. Thank you both again for your help.’
They shook his hand and left.
Back in the hotel suite, Kate put her arms around Rafi’s neck, her warm brown eyes gazing into his.
‘What now?’ asked Rafi.
‘Silly question! How about we get some food – I’m starving -and turn in for an early night?’ she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.
‘Great idea. What would you like to eat? The room service menu is impressive.’
‘I’m glad you’re paying,’ she said with a smile. ‘I could eat out for ages on some of these prices.’
‘We deserve some pampering, or at least I thought your orders were: lots of TLC.’
‘That,’ said Kate, ‘could be on the menu for dessert.’
They settled for a light supper. After the meal they snuggled up on the large sofa, enjoying the tranquillity.
‘Would you mind if we paid an impromptu visit to my brother and my parents on Sunday?’ asked Kate. ‘I think they need a bit of reassuring after the past few days.’
‘Sounds like a great idea. Are you sure we are not wanted elsewhere, though?’
‘I’ve cleared it with David – thanks.’
‘Where exactly do they live?’
‘Just outside Colchester.’
‘Sounds like an excellent idea.’
The conversation moved on to what they could do during Kate’s two-week break, which was scheduled to start as soon as the terrorist leaders were in captivity.
‘I don’t feel like going far away,’ Kate said.
‘Before this all happened, I’d booked a suite at a hotel in Cornwall for ten days. What do you think?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Is it a very smart hotel?’
‘It’s family run – by all accounts it’s comfortable and has good food,’ said Rafi.
‘But what about the beds?’ queried Kate.
‘They should be fine,’ he replied.
‘They?’ asked Kate sleepily. ‘Would it be too forward if we continue to share a bed?’ Kate planted a kiss on his cheek and snuggled up.
Rafi smiled. The prospect of having Kate as a girlfriend appealed. ‘I’d like that very much… I’ll ring the hotel in the morning.’ He didn’t get a reply; Kate was sound asleep in his arms.
The next morning, Rafi awoke to the buzzing sound of the bedside phone. He reached over and picked it up. His watch showed the time to be 11.45 a.m. He recognised the voice at the other end but could not initially place who it was. The quietly spoken woman introduced herself as SJ from Number 10.
‘Could you come in to see the Prime Minister again, please? I’ve arranged for a car to collect you. It’ll be waiting outside your hotel in thirty minutes.’
‘No problem,’ Rafi replied, replacing the phone and sitting up.
Rays of daylight crept around the edges of the curtains, casting a soft warm light around the room. Kate’s side of the bed was empty. Rafi lingered for a moment realising that he missed her company. Then he reluctantly slipped out of bed, aware of his bruises, and headed for the sitting room. On the side table was a note: Thought you needed a lie-in. Sorry not to be h
ere – have things to do at work. See you later. Love, Kate.
Forty five minutes later Rafi was walking in to 10 Downing Street. He was met at the door by a smiling SJ. She looked at him and felt she couldn’t fully work him out. His mugshot had been plastered over the papers as public enemy number one, but he was one of the good guys. He’d had a rough time by the looks of things, but his eyes told another story. They were alive and bright.
‘The PM sends his apologies, his meetings are running late. While he is busy, he thought you would like to be brought up to speed on the terrorists’ whereabouts. But first, how about a cup of coffee?’ asked
SJ.
Rafi nodded, and followed her to a coffee machine.
‘This is how the other half lives,’ remarked SJ apologetically.
‘Home from home, where I worked was open plan and my desk was practically on top of all the others.’ Rafi paused as he realised he had used the past tense. He sensed that that part of his life was over.
‘How about a nice biscuit or two,’ she said bending over just in front of him to open a cupboard door.
To Rafi’s surprise, he found himself wondering how such a meticulously dressed secretary could suddenly look provocative.
‘If you would like to follow me… I thought we could borrow one of the meeting rooms.’
As Rafi followed SJ, a stray thought flitted through his mind – what would she look like with her hair down and in casual clothes? Undoubtedly she’d be very beautiful. His musings were halted as they reached their destination, a small meeting room, where SJ beckoned him to sit opposite her. She gave him a radiant smile.
Rafi was suddenly aware that he was staring ‘Sorry I was miles away…’ He felt uneasy and wondered what SJ would say next.
‘The PM tells me you are a remarkable man, and that you helped avert a number of other major disasters.’ SJ paused and smiled. Her soft blue eyes locked on to his. ‘The PM asked me to look after you…’
Rafi searched for a good reply but his mind was focused on SJ’s beautiful face. ‘That’s good,’ he replied, weakly returning her smile. He wondered if SJ realised how uncomfortable he felt. He took a sip of his coffee and looked down at his bruised and swollen wrist, partly to avoid making eye contact.
‘Is it as painful as it looks?’ asked SJ sympathetically.
‘Not really, I’ve sort of got used to it now, thanks to the painkillers,’ replied Rafi. He sensed his brain was beginning to work again, and decided to take the initiative. ‘Do you like working at Number 10?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘The hours must be very long at times…’ Rafi took a mouthful of his coffee.
‘Yes, and the working weekends and late nights can wreak havoc with the social diary.’
Rafi looked down at her left hand – there was no ring. ‘Your boyfriend must be very understanding…’
Seeing that Rafi had relaxed, she smiled. ‘That’s a nice thought. If only one could find the right man. I seem to attract all the wrong ones.’ Someone just like you would suit me perfectly, she thought to herself.
He smiled and looked into her lovely blue eyes… ‘Don’t worry, your luck will turn when you least expect it.’
‘Thank you,’ replied SJ.
‘I am serious,’ added Rafi. ‘A week ago I was on my own and then through the most bizarre circumstances I met Detective Inspector Kate Adams… You have everything going for you… the right man will come in to your life.’
SJ looked carefully at Rafi. In the space of a few minutes he had turned the tables on her. He was now making her feel uncomfortable… That Kate Adams was a very fortunate woman… It would be nice to swap places with her. ‘How precisely did you meet Kate?’ asked SJ.
‘I was in the cells at Paddington Green police station and she came to interview me…
‘So you reckon I should get myself locked up… I’m not certain if I’d have a job to go come back to though!’
Rafi laughed. ‘The mind boggles… The prospect of you ending up in prison is difficult to picture. I’d opt for something far less extreme. Like Kate you are on the side of the good, so you won’t have to go looking for trouble.’
‘But it might be fun,’ said SJ with a disarming grin. ‘Perhaps when this is all over, you and Kate could give me some pointers?’ Before Rafi had a chance to reply, she looked at her watch. ‘You should be elsewhere… It’s time for you to pay COBRA a visit.’
Rafi finished his coffee. ‘I’m ready when you are.’ He hesitated, and not knowing where the thought came from, blurted out, ‘It seems to me that you and Kate are very alike… under the surface that is.’ He fell silent, suddenly feeling embarrassed to go any further with his line of thinking.
SJ felt a strange feeling come across her. So he really did like her… with a bit of planning on her part she would arrange for their paths to cross again. She stood up. ‘Come on, you really should be elsewhere.’
A few minutes later they arrived at the door to the COBRA meeting room. As Rafi walked in he sensed a new feel to the room. The urgency and horror of the day before had given way to a businesslike atmosphere. Inside the door was a face he’d got to know very well over the past few days. Jeremy greeted him warmly and they fell into conversation.
SJ smiled and glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll come and get you in seventy minutes,’ she turned and left.
Jeremy looked at Rafi. ‘Where would you like me to start in bringing you up to date?’
‘Golden Sundancer and the trawlers, please.’
‘It’s all go at sea and in the air there are two Nimrods tracking them. The Great Yarmouth trawler left port at 16.00 hours on Friday and, as you know, turned south. She entered the Straights of Dover around 22.30 yesterday and is currently heading towards the Lizard Point off Cornwall. On board is Dakka Dudayev, the Stratford bomber; a real hard case.
‘I’d say so!’
‘The trawler from Peterhead offloaded Rudnik Miromov, the Cruden Bay terrorist, onto Golden Sundancer north-west of the Pentland Firth at 5 p.m. yesterday evening. Golden Sundancer then headed at speed around the Western Isles. The Troon trawler rendezvoused with her at 03.00 south-west of Stanton Banks where she picked up Talal’s number two, Alistair Hartnell, and the recruiter of the suicide bombers, Kim Chindriani. Since then Golden Sundancer has been flying down the west coast of Ireland at a very impressive 40-46 knots. She’s currently just west of Bantry Bay. Our calculations point to the Great Yarmouth trawler, Rosemarie, and Golden Sundancer rendezvousing at 19.00 hours this evening south-west of the Isles of Scilly. From there, we believe that they’ll head for Morocco and the port of Safi.’
‘What’s Maryam up to?’
‘She’s carrying on as usual in Luxembourg, playing at being a real socialite. Wining and dining seem to be her middle names. The commissioner is arranging a visit to Luxembourg to tie in with the capture of the other terrorists on Monday afternoon,’ Jeremy drew breath and pointed to the screens around the room. ‘On the home front, the army’s pyrotechnics continue to be impressive: there’s still a good mix of dark smoke, explosions and flames from Cruden Bay, Aldermaston, Hartlepool and Heysham. Even though numerous announcements have been made that no radioactivity has been released and the terrorists missed their nuclear targets, the TV crews love it. I feel sorry for the local residents, but at least it’s in a good cause.’
‘How’s it progressing at Stratford?’ asked Rafi.
‘Basically, it is a huge mess and it is still taking up masses of resources. Thankfully, Operation Counterpane has got most people away from the exclusion zone relatively quickly. The genius part was getting others to look after them. It’s worked magically. The reaction of the provincial cities, and in particular the rural communities, has been beyond anyone’s expectations. Trains have been running constantly from the London terminals since Friday morning, transporting the refugees to their destinations. Fleets of coaches have poured into London from across the country, with offers of accommodation and
homes for those who got on board. The major retailers have been brilliant. In some instances people have been getting on their coaches with a blanket, a duvet or just a towel or coat around them. En route to their destination, stop-offs to department stores have been arranged to fully clothe and re-equip the travellers. The Dunkirk spirit has been unbelievable. Only a small minority of those dispossessed have caused trouble; the vast, vast majority have been grateful for the help and to be evacuated,’ said Jeremy.
‘What are the radiation levels like?’ Rafi enquired, concerned.
‘The experts got their initial calculations for the exclusion zone spot on. The Royal Engineers, with the help of specialist building contractors, have completed the demarcation and the clearing of the perimeter of the exclusion zone and I understand that plans are afoot for work to start tomorrow on the foundations for the perimeter wall. There have been attempts at looting and to get items that are now, of course, radioactive out of the exclusion zone, but the army patrols have been up to the task and have clamped down firmly on such activities. There are 3,000 battlehardened troops with experience of Iraq and Afghanistan policing the perimeter – next to nothing has got out.’
Jeremy paused. ‘The scientists have put in place plans to counter the problems of the leaching of the radioactive materials into the water table. Fingers crossed they’ll get it right, or else the City of London and Docklands will be in trouble.’
Jeremy chatted at length, detailing how the exclusion zone was being cleared of people and how the location of London City Airport was a godsend. ‘It must be a nightmare for the air traffic controllers, what with all the transport plane movements. Thankfully, only one pilot got the approach wrong and nearly ended up in the water!’
Jeremy hesitated. ‘Your interrogator, Andy, phoned me earlier today.’
Rafi involuntarily tensed up.
‘Nothing untoward,’ reassured Jeremy, sensing Rafi’s unease. ‘In his investigations he came across an individual with long standing links to your family.’Jeremy passed him a piece of paper with a name and phone number on it. ‘I think you might know him?’
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