Latent Hazard rkadika-1

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘Unexpectedly, Mansur wrote to me once or twice a year keeping me up to date as to what your father, Jansher, was doing. It was just like him to be so thoughtful,’ said Charlie.

  The conversation drifted back to when Charlie had first met Lateefa, Rafi’s grandmother. ‘She came from an immensely powerful and wealthy family. They commanded respect for tens if not hundreds of miles around,’ said Charlie. He went on to describe the close-knit community in India before independence, the partitioning and painful birth of Pakistan. Charlie talked about the British Army families – the nannies and the family helpers – and about his relationship with Lateefa – ‘it should have progressed to marriage,’ Charlie’s voice faltered. ‘It broke my heart to lose her.’

  ‘Did you meet my mother, Ameena?’ asked Rafi.

  Charlie hesitated. ‘No… I’m sad to say, I did not…’

  ‘Why the hesitation?’ enquired Rafi. ‘Is there something I don’t know…? Please tell me, if there is…’

  ‘OK, then…, your grandpa was approached by your family in Pakistan who sought an arranged marriage between your father and Ameena, a distant cousin. It transpired that the eldest son of the head of the family had fallen for Ameena, but his parents wanted him to marry the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Mansur reluctantly agreed to Ameena coming to stay for a couple of months, as a guest, but on the condition that your father was not to know about any suggestion of an arranged marriage.’

  Charlie paused. ‘Your parents enjoyed one another’s company and fortunately it didn’t take long for them to fall in love. They got married seven months later in a small ceremony.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rafi thought for a moment. ‘Could you tell me about my family in Pakistan?’

  ‘Your cousins are very powerful people. Their fiefdom stretches over an area of thousands of square miles. Perhaps you should pay them a visit one day,’ suggested Charlie.

  It was approaching 8 o’clock.

  ‘I’m afraid we should be going soon,’ said Rafi. ‘We’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

  ‘Would you like to stay for a quick bite of supper?’ asked Charlie hopefully.

  Rafi was about to decline the offer when Kate interjected, ‘That sounds like a lovely idea.’

  The conversation switched to Kate, her family reunion and her teaming up with Rafi to track down the terrorists.

  Rafi talked about Saara and he promised to visit with her. After lengthy and fond goodbyes, they finally left at 10 o’clock.

  The journey back into London was slow but straightforward and they arrived at the packed hotel just after midnight.

  Rafi opened the door to their room and found a white envelope lying on the carpet. It contained two messages: one from Kate’s boss and one from Saara.

  Kate picked up the phone and spoke to David. It was a short call. ‘We’ll be picked up from the front of the hotel at 07.30. He wants me at work early.’

  She passed the phone to Rafi who dialled his sister’s number. There was a delay before the phone was answered. He guessed he’d woken her up.

  They spoke briefly and she updated him on the meetings she and Aidan’s economics team had had with the Chancellor of the Exchequer and representatives of the Bank of England.

  ‘They’re playing their cards very close to their chests. Heaven only knows what the Chancellor is going to do and say tomorrow. At least it’s a bank holiday and the markets will have to wait until Tuesday morning to digest things,’ said Saara. ‘I’m going back to Birmingham tomorrow evening. I’ve missed a couple of deadlines and don’t want to let my colleagues down… And I’m missing Steve.’

  ‘How are you getting home?’

  ‘Coach of course,’ came the reply. ‘I got the ticket booked for me earlier today by a helpful man at Number 11. I can’t wait to get back to normality. Let’s talk soon when things are calmer. Please give my love and a hug to Kate. Tell her Steve and I look forward to seeing you both in Birmingham. Bye.’ He put the phone down. He felt guilty, as he had not told Saara about their grandfather. He wanted to tell her face to face, but was it fair to keep the news from her?

  Kate meanwhile had slipped into the bathroom. She washed quickly. Back in the bedroom she undressed and slipped under the luxurious duvet. Her thoughts turned to Rafi. She hoped he would not be long…

  Rafi finished his drink, turned the sitting room light out and went to see where Kate had got to. The bedroom lights were on, but she was fast asleep. Moments later he slipped into bed and turned off the light. He lay there thinking back over the day. Unexpectedly, it had been a very good day.

  Chapter 7

  After a good night’s sleep and a quick breakfast, Kate and Rafi were at their desks in Wood Street by 7.45 a.m. on Monday.

  Soon, though, Rafi found himself alone; Kate had disappeared to work with John and the rest of the team downstairs.

  The office felt strange without the pent-up tension of the previous week. Rafi tidied his desk and then browsed the Internet to see how the main overseas markets were trading. He looked at Bloomberg’s news page first. There, at the top of the ‘Breaking News’, was a headline that made him smile: ‘International markets closed – in respect for all those who lost their lives in London’. Rafi clicked on the link to read the story. It explained how the chairmen of the major international banks operating in London had got together and asked their home stock and derivatives exchanges not to open for the day as a mark of respect, and the idea had snowballed. Rafi smiled; the Chancellor had arranged things in a very appropriate manner.

  After forty minutes he’d run out of things to do so decided to see how things were progressing in the Ops Room. There Rafi was greeted as one of the team – basically no one took much notice of him! He looked at the screens and listened to the discussions going on.

  Puddle Jumper had arrived at Safi in the early hours of the morning with its crew of six. They had cleared customs. Golden Sundancer and the sheikh’s plane were some five hours away.

  The atmosphere ratcheted up a notch as Giles and David walked in, accompanied by Len Thunhurst, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, John, Kate and the rest of their teams.

  Rafi noticed that video links had been established with regional police command centres. Those around him spoke of Operation Dry Clean and explained that it would be the largest series of coordinated arrests ever undertaken.

  Giles started the video link briefing. ‘The need for secrecy is absolute. Details of the arrests and the names will not be released until Len Thunhurst is satisfied that it’s safe to do so. The terrorists’ network of contacts should not be underestimated – let us not forget that two members of COBRA have been arrested. Operation Dry Clean will commence as soon as we receive confirmation that the ringleaders have been apprehended. There will be hell to pay if they are tipped off and give us the slip at the last moment. The capture of the terrorists is scheduled for 3.30 p.m. this afternoon, give or take a bit. Until then we must keep our actions under wraps. Len Thunhurst will be in charge of the UK arrests and I shall be overseeing the arrest of Maryam Vynckt in Luxembourg.’

  Len took up the proceedings. He congratulated Giles and his team on their work and turned to Emma. ‘The floor is all yours.’

  Emma looked worn out. She was a little hesitant at first, but soon got into her stride. She pointed to the electronic presentation on a second screen, which was linked to the conference rooms of those listening. Emma explained, using the diagrams on the screen, the relationship between Basel Talal’s venture capital business; Jameel’s Prima Terra; Maryam’s Gulf Trade Bank and the sheikh, who was the chief financier. She also mentioned the raft of public and private companies controlled and manipulated by the terrorist leaders. Jeremy nodded approvingly.

  Emma paused to take questions and then put a new slide up on the screen. This contained a very lengthy list of names and addresses linked, where available, to mugshots of the people involved. She turned to Jeremy. ‘Thanks to the work of MI5, we have
so far been able to trace 289 of the 323 people we are interested in. MI5 will be seeking your assistance to find the missing individuals.

  ‘For those on our list,’ she continued, ‘We’ve adopted a colour coding of red, blue and black. The names in red are individuals who have been complicit in the recent terrorist activities and for whom we have more than sufficient evidence for a prosecution. The blues have direct connections with the recent activities, but more evidence has to be gathered before we’ve got a watertight case. The names in black are circumstantially linked: while we believe that they’ve been very much involved in the terrorists’ plans, we need more information before we can confirm their involvement. The red names are our first priority. However, all the names are important as they’ll complete the picture of what the terrorists have been planning and will corroborate the case against those we’re going to prosecute.’

  Emma pointed to the screen. ‘As soon as we have a person in custody, we’ll give their name on our list a yellow background. That way we can quickly see how things are progressing.’

  ‘Thank you, Emma,’ said Len turning to the video camera. ‘Many of the people you will be arresting are sleepers. Do not feel any sympathy for them – they are all implicated. Once in custody, we need to build a complete picture and identify any loose ends that we may have missed. Emma and her team, with the help of MI5, John and his team, have prepared a dossier on those you’ll be arresting. It will provide you with background details of what these individuals have been doing and how they’ve crossed the line. I do stress that each and every one of them should be treated with caution.’

  Len paused to let his last statement sink in. ‘The resources of this terrorist operation have been likened by MI5 to those of a small to medium-sized country. They have on their payroll some of the most dangerous mercenaries we have ever had the misfortune to deal with. And be warned: some of the people on this list are very well connected. And please be aware that these sleepers or invisibles, who would usually go unnoticed, are extremely valuable to us. The fact that we don’t catch them with a smoking gun should not lessen the gravity of their involvement.’

  The commissioner turned to Jack Fisher, one of John’s team, who blushed as he stood up. His voice started as a quiet squeak. John passed him a glass of water and gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Jack has spent the last couple of days, with the help of MI5, unravelling the terrorists’ network of outsourcing companies working for the public sector. What he and the rest of the team have unearthed makes for unpalatable reading.’

  The commissioner nodded towards Jack, who had recovered his composure. ‘You’ll see there is an extensive list of companies, limited partnerships and businesses, which are controlled by the terrorists. Key individuals in these companies have been listed above. Their paper and electronic records will be needed so that we can identify the internal chains of command and see exactly what they have been doing.’

  Len concluded matters with a stark warning. ‘We have good reason to believe that several of these people have a direct line of communication with the terrorist leaders. Until we have all the key leaders in custody we must, under no circumstances – I repeat, under no circumstances – let the cat out of the bag that Operation Dry Clean exists. Is that clearly understood?’

  Fifteen minutes later, after a series of searching questions, the video links were turned off and connection was re-established with those tracking Golden Sundancer and the sheikh’s plane, and those planning the capture of Maryam in Luxembourg.

  Colonels Turner and Gray and a reduced team came back into the room, which was rapidly reverting to a mini war room. On the central screen there was now a large electronic map showing Morocco and the north-west coast of Africa.

  The clock on the wall gave the time as 11.06 a.m. The Prime Minister was scheduled to stand up in front of the House of Commons in less than three hours. Even though it was a bank holiday, these were exceptional times and the House was in emergency session.

  Rafi turned his attention to the activities in Morocco. The chart showed a red dot which was making its way across the screen following a thin yellow line towards Marrakech. It was about 700 miles away. There was a second red dot 100 miles offshore tracking a thin yellow line along the coast towards the port of Safi. Then he spotted another red dot by Marrakech and a number of blue dots.

  Kate tugged at his arm; she was also looking at the central screen. ‘I reckon those red dots are the sheikh’s plane, Golden Sundancer and Jameel. The blue ones must be the good guys – so the blue one in Safi must be our friends on board Puddle Jumper.’

  Rafi pointed to the fine yellow line which stopped about fifteen miles off the coast. ‘That, I presume, is where the submarine is to rendezvous with Puddle Jumper.’

  One of the colonel’s adjutants walked over to chat to Kate. ‘It’s all starting to come together nicely. The next few hours should be interesting! We have patched into the SBS command centre which is overseeing the operation at Safi. There’s a Nimrod offshore at 40,000 feet monitoring the location of Golden Sundancer. She has her cloaking device on so she’ll be invisible to the terrorists. She’ll pick up the video pictures and radio communications from the SBS men on board Puddle Jumper and the SAS teams on the ground. She’ll then relay them to the command centre where they’ll bounce them on to us.’

  The adjutant thought for a moment. ‘Golden Sundancer, at her current speed, should reach Safi between 13.30 and 13.45 hours, our time this afternoon. She has slowed down a bit; it seems she’s sailing into a steep swell. The sheikh’s plane is scheduled to land at Menara airport, Marrakech, at 13.00 hours. If the switch to the helicopter goes quickly, they could be at Safi by 14.00 hours… We would prefer there to be more of a time gap before the helicopter arrives.’

  ‘Are they going to be well prepared?’ asked Rafi.

  ‘The terrorists still seem blissfully unaware that we are on to them,’ continued the adjutant. ‘The two SAS operatives we have undercover at Marrakech Airport have reported that the helicopter is unguarded, with just the pilot waiting. The sheikh meanwhile has two minders with him on board his jet. Both are big gorillas of men, but definitely not in the same league as the two Chechen mercenaries on Golden Sundancer.’

  The adjutant pointed to the map. ‘In Safi, we have two highly experienced SAS soldiers – Major Mark Piggot and Sergeant Colin Blake. They have identified four heavies watching the harbour and if they’re anything like the Chechen mercenaries, they’ll have a real skirmish on their hands. Thankfully, the industrial part of the port is relatively deserted. In contrast, the nearby fishing boat quays are a hive of activity. From the location of the four heavies, we believe that the helicopter plans to land on the quay in the industrial part of the harbour, close to where Golden Sundancer is likely to berth.’

  The adjutant paused and looked across at the screen. ‘As good fortune would have it, our friends on board Puddle Jumper seem to be in just the right place. Now that we’re certain Safi is the rendezvous point, the three SAS men at Mohammedia and the three at Casablanca are, as we speak, driving down the N1 to Safi. Roads permitting, they’ll be there in good time.’

  ‘What’s Jameel up to?’ asked Kate.

  ‘He finished a round of golf half an hour ago and is currently in the hotel bar. He’s packed his bags and ordered a taxi to the airport ten minutes ago. He’s the proud possessor of a couple of tracking devices: one in his shoe, which he left unattended whilst playing golf, and another in his hand luggage!’

  On board Puddle Jumper the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. The retired commander and his wife were sitting on the aft deck, enjoying mugs of tea. They were joined by a scantily clad Lieutenant Anna Gregson, with a colourful caftan wrapped around her waist. She was followed by a similarly dressed Lieutenant Janet Steiner.

  ‘Been enjoying the sun?’ enquired their mother.

  ‘It’s fantastic up on the foredeck,’ replied Anna.

  ‘Any idea where your boyfriend Clive i
s?’ the commander asked.

  ‘Yes; he and Jim have gone on a bimble – said they had to see a man about a dog,’ replied Janet.

  The commander nodded. ‘We’ve got about two and a half hours before we will have company, according to our friends.’

  ‘In which case,’ said Janet, ‘Time for a bit more sun on the foredeck.’

  ‘Remember the sunscreen,’ said their mother tossing a bottle in Anna’s direction.

  ‘Thanks mum!’

  As the two women left for the bow of the boat, Jim and Clive climbed back on board and walked over to chat to the commander.

  ‘That was quick; I thought you were chatting to your SAS friends, Mark and Colin?’

  ‘We were. And we’ve sorted out what equipment we have between us. They’re rather well tooled-up. As long as a small army doesn’t arrive, they should give us more than enough cover.’

  ‘What do they make of the four heavies guarding the helicopter landing area?’ asked the commander.

  ‘Piece of piss!’ replied Clive. ‘The way they handle themselves and their guns, they’re no more than local hoodlums. All they seem to do is smoke cigarettes and talk; not one of them has even done a recce, which is good news.’

  ‘It’s the two Chechens on board Golden Sundancer that we have to be careful of,’ remarked Jim. ‘Oh, by the way, we reckon that Golden Sundancer will moor up 100 metres across from where we are.’

  In the Ops Room, Rafi turned his attention to the flat screen TV. He watched the commentary preceding the PM’s speech in the House of Commons, where a political correspondent was standing inside the Houses of Parliament with a senior opposition MP on either side of her.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ began the interviewer, ‘Will there be a call for a vote of no confidence and will the Prime Minister survive this afternoon?’

  ‘My party will want to find out why things have gone so badly wrong and will wish to see those who have let this country down take responsibility for their negligence,’ replied the first MP.