Latent Hazard rkadika-1

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘Last couple of questions,’ said Kate. ‘Are the identities of the other people known at this point in time and, if so, when do we meet them? And what’s their English like?’

  ‘Yes, I believe they are, and English will not be a problem. If you have no more questions then I can tell you that your interviews have been arranged for next week. They’ll be at the EU’s offices in Storey’s Gate, St James’s.’

  Rafi raised an eyebrow indicating that the address meant nothing.

  ‘Bottom of Horse Guards Parade.’

  ‘Got it – thank you.’

  ‘Assuming you decide to take up the offer of the jobs, we have arranged for you to meet the team for dinner next Friday evening in Luxembourg, as guests of our Embassy there. That way you can see how you get on. On the languages front, I have to stress again that your would – be colleagues have an excellent command of English as well as each being fluent in a handful of other languages. Your support team will provide you with the necessary translators, should they be required,’ added Ewan, helpfully.

  Kate looked at Rafi. He winked back. She slowly turned and looked at the commissioner, at Ewan and then across to the permanent secretary.

  ‘Who buys the plane tickets and books the hotel room?’

  ‘Funny you should mention that.’ The commissioner turned over several pages of the notebook he was using, pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it to Kate.

  ‘In case you said yes, here are the details of your e-tickets and the hotel you’ll be staying at. We‘ve booked you on a flight from London City Airport; it takes off at 12.05 and lands at around 14.00 hours.’

  Kate stood up, shook hands, said her thanks and goodbyes, and made for the door. Rafi stood up to leave after her.

  ‘Mr Khan, would you stay with us a moment longer?’

  Rafi sat back down. Ewan looked at him intently. ‘Can you recall how you felt when you were at the Headland hotel and you knew that there was a person out there in the darkness who wanted to kill you and Kate?’

  ‘Yes.’ The memory sent a shudder through him.

  ‘Please be under no illusion. We don’t know what you and Kate may be getting into. There are powerful forces at work below the surface in Europe. These shadowy people have big vested interests and antiquated concepts of what are acceptable and unacceptable practices. Furthermore, the enlargement of the Union has brought into our midst both hard-working people keen to improve their quality of life and, unfortunately, a quagmire of organised crime. These criminals, like terrorists, operate freely throughout the EU. To put it bluntly, you’ll be entering a very murky world – the world of sophisticated, ruthless criminals. We at MI5 and those at MI6 will do our utmost to protect you as and when things get difficult; the Prime Minister has made it clear that you will have our full support. But it’s your decision as to whether you’re willing to leave the comfort of the City and cross over to our world and its dangers.’

  Rafi thought for a few moments. The Bishopsgate bombing had claimed four lives, Stratford would claim innumerably more. If there had been better financial transparency the terrorists would not have been able to operate so freely. Perhaps they would have gone elsewhere or have been caught in good time. It was a no-brainer and if it was what Kate wanted, then he wanted to be with her.

  ‘Thank you for your warnings. I’d like to attend the interview next week and, interview permitting, I look forward to becoming part of the team.’

  ‘That is good news,’ said the dark-suited civil servant. ‘The PM will be very pleased.’

  Rafi got up and went to find Kate. His life was changing fast. Only a few months ago he had been a well-respected and very highly paid equities fund manager. He was now about to take a huge salary cut, work in Luxembourg and join MI5.

  Kate was talking with Emma. ‘I’m being posted to Luxembourg,’ he heard her say.

  ‘Congratulations! I’ll really miss you though. You’ve got to promise to stay in touch,’ replied Emma.

  Rafi turned to Kate. ‘What do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?’

  ‘Well, I need to tidy my desk. Then I can start planning the next chapter of my life with my new partner,’ she quipped with a mischievous look on her face.

  She spotted a pile of messages on her desk. ‘Would you believe it? I’ve had a call from Jeremy and he’s in Luxembourg! He says he will be there to meet us at the airport on Friday and show us some sights, before he takes us to our hotel, which is near the Embassy.’

  Rafi looked at Kate. ‘What, on earth, is Jeremy doing in Luxembourg?’

  ‘Heaven only knows. But I hope he’s been posted there; it would be great to have him as part of the team.’ Kate hesitated. ‘What time is it? I’ve just remembered a couple of things I need to finish off.’

  Rafi looked at his watch. ‘It’s just after 4.15 p.m.’

  ‘Could we meet back here at 6 o’clock? And could you find something to keep you occupied for about two hours?’

  ‘No problem.’ Rafi flicked open his mobile and rang Aidan. He felt slightly guilty that he hadn’t made more of an effort to keep in touch since that day they’d given the presentation at Number 10.

  Aidan answered the phone straight away. He definitely was not at the office; from the background noise Rafi guessed he was enjoying a glass or two of champagne at a local hostelry.

  ‘Hi Aidan, Rafi here.’

  ‘Great to hear from you. I thought you’d been avoiding me… Where are you?’

  ‘Wood Street.’

  ‘It’s POETS day. Do come and join us; we’re in the Pavilion at Finsbury Circus Gardens. It’s been a rather good week; we’re a bit over the top, but do join us.’

  ‘See you in ten minutes.’

  The Pavilion was a short walk away; it was a likeable wine bar in the middle of Finsbury Circus, overlooking a bowling green. Rafi grabbed his coat, hurried downstairs and headed down Chiswell Street towards the wine bar. On arrival he was greeted by a joyous Aidan. He had taken a few clients out for lunch and they were still going strong. As an equities man, Rafi’s path tended not to cross with the derivatives specialists. They were high-octane people with a ‘work hard, play hard’ ethos.

  ‘Let me introduce you to… Rafi,’ Aidan said enthusiastically, and then suddenly stopped. ‘On second thoughts, there’s no need – I reckon everybody here will already know you from your pictures in the papers!’ To general amusement, those that Rafi hadn’t met before introduced themselves. Aidan ordered him a freshly squeezed orange juice and Rafi sat down and listened to their stories. Aidan was on cracking form. He’d picked up a whole host of new clients after all the publicity he’d received for his work for the Treasury.

  ‘Rafi,’ he said, ‘have you heard the one about the managing director of a major international bank who one Monday morning turned up to the office to attend a video-conference meeting with a major client, only to find that all the equipment had been taken away for servicing?’

  There were howls of laughter around the table.

  ‘And he thought that I had something to do with it! He saw that the market was closed and decided it was an omen to go off and have an extended lunch.’ This was greeted by more laughs.

  ‘You know, every time I meet the MD, he asks me how I’m getting on in the second-hand electricals market – some cheek!’ said Aidan.

  The conversation went from pillar to post and time flew by all too quickly. Rafi said his goodbyes and left the ever-merrier group to their next bottle of champagne. He arrived back at Wood Street in a taxi, picking up a tired Kate before heading straight for Clapham. It had been quite a day.

  The Tuesday interview at Storey’s Gate was just a formality. Rafi sat at one end of a long table with two grey-suited individuals sitting at the other end.

  The first twenty minutes were spent completing a detailed CV about Rafi: schooling, degrees, employment, work skills and competencies, leisure activities, and so on.

  The first real question was: ‘Do
you think that your financial and analytical skills are appropriate for this position?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rafi answered, expecting a follow-up question.

  ‘Thank you,’ came the reply. ‘We do not have any more questions. Do you want to ask us anything?’

  Rafi shook his head.

  ‘Good. On your way out, please pick up the envelope from the secretary next door. It contains your employment contract. Thank you for coming in.’

  And that was it. Kate had a similar interview. Back at the flat, they went through the contents of their envelopes. Kate was bowled over by the hike in her salary. There was an accommodation allowance, a travelling to home allowance, even a clothing allowance. In her eyes the package was fantastic. Rafi’s package was practically identical, other than his basic salary, which was a couple of thousand Euros less, but in the small print he saw that he would be getting a special allowance which brought him to a financial parity. He smiled. It was a nice touch.

  Their flight out of London City airport on the Friday was uneventful. Luxembourg from the air looked smaller than they’d expected. Jeremy was waiting for them and was on great form. He had been posted to the Embassy a couple of weeks earlier as a commercial attache. He showed them the sights and at Rafi’s request they visited the spot where Callum and the Mercedes had been found. Standing there, Rafi felt a pang of guilt. Next time he was in England he would visit Callum’s parents.

  Kate and Rafi were eventually dropped at their hotel, with time to shower and dress for dinner.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Kate. ‘Do I look smart enough?’

  The dark emerald, satin dress fitted her perfectly. Her matching high heel shoes lifted her almost to Rafi’s height and accentuated her slim figure.

  ‘Wow, you look stunning. Yep, you’ll do very nicely!’

  The dinner was held in a formal dining room. The Embassy had spared no expense. During the pre-dinner drinks Kate and Rafi were introduced to their prospective boss, Jorg Emcke. He was of average build and height, with receding hair – and introduced himself with great enthusiasm.

  ‘I heard you wanted to know what my English was like. It’s good, but I still find the English sense of humour impossible. But don’t worry; I enjoy a good laugh, particularly when it’s at the expense of those we catch!’

  The individuals alongside whom they would be working looked genuinely unimpressive. They could have been having dinner with a team of auditors who were in the middle of a particularly dull company audit. However, Rafi soon found that appearances could be very deceptive.

  The French police chief, Stephanie Doucet, looked incredibly businesslike. She was wearing a plain trouser suit and looked to be in her mid- to late forties. Rafi discovered that she had worked for the Parisian police force and then Europol and, like Kate, had specialised in criminal financial activities.

  The Italian detective introduced himself as Celso Morassutti and his Polish counterpart was Ludomir Jablonkowski. Both, Rafi learned, had substantial experience of dealing with organised crime. The background of the three other men remained a mystery.

  At dinner, Rafi’s suspicions were confirmed. He had had a feeling that the group had met before and were sizing up the two newcomers. There was great interest in the jobs he had done, but he sensed that they had been fully briefed and were only filling in the gaps. On the other side of the table, Kate was also being discreetly quizzed.

  After the main course had been cleared away, Jorg stood up. ‘This will not be a long speech. A couple of hours should do!’ He winked at Kate. ‘Probably a lot less! As you know we’ve been tasked with advising the President of the Commission on what should be done to improve financial transparency. He wants there to be a level playing field, so that when EU tax harmonisation comes in, it will be harder for EU companies aviod paying their taxes. The sums involved are immense, as is the political will. Tens, if not hundreds, of billions of Euros per annum are involved. Our formal role is to be the data gatherers. Technically we will be part of the European Court of Auditors. Their offices are just around the corner in rue Alcide De Gasperi. We will therefore have excellent resources at our disposal.’ He paused and then went on. ‘This is the front under which we will be operating. Your real task is to understand how the criminal fraternity use the current opaqueness of the financial markets to assist them in their activities. While the ways of criminals and terrorists are not identical, the atrocity at Stratford has brought home the scale of the problems facing us. Our activities will remain covert – our aim is not to go out there and arrest people or close down bent corporations; it is to gather evidence that others will use to thwart the criminals and terrorists. I trust we shall all keep a low profile.’

  Jorg studied Kate and then Rafi. ‘Seven of us have met before on several occasions. This evening we are joined by the last two members of our team. They perhaps look on the young side to us. However, their track record speaks for itself. They bring to the table cutting edge experience of the lengths to which terrorists and criminals will go in order to get their way. Their knowledge will complement our skills-base. You’re a team of equals – if there’s to be any pulling of rank that is my prerogative and my prerogative alone. Unless I hear any dissenting comments, I shall assume that you are all willing and happy to work together as a team.’

  He looked around and then continued. ‘In that case, you will be expected to report for duty at our new offices a week on Monday. That, I trust, will give you sufficient time to sort out your affairs at home, to dust off your suitcases and to find suitable accommodation in Luxembourg.’

  Jorg sat down, picked up a large cigar, chopped off the end, carefully lit it and started puffing as though he had no cares in the world – and smoking bans didn’t exist.

  After dinner things became more informal. They were ushered into a comfortable sitting room where they chatted and bounced ideas around. Rafi looked around the room: there was definitely an esprit de corps. The special task force was up and running.

  At just after 1 a.m., Jorg said he was calling it a night and left with a simple parting remark: ‘It has been a good evening. I look forward to seeing you all in our office on Monday week at 9 o’clock for a strategy meeting.’

  It was almost 2 a.m. when Kate and Rafi walked back to their hotel.

  The wind had a nip to it, but Rafi had a warm feeling inside him; it had been a fascinating and illuminating evening.

  Back in the hotel room, Kate flipped off her shoes, sat suggestively on the corner of the bed and looked across at Rafi who had taken off his jacket.

  ‘What do you think of this situation we’ve got ourselves into?’ She sounded very excited. ‘I am the luckiest girl in the world. My two wishes have come true: a fantastic job where I can do something worthwhile and a man at my side for whom I would do anything…’

  ‘And what about my wish?’ enquired Rafi.

  She smiled and looked into his dark eyes. ‘I wonder what that might be?’ She turned her back to him and said, ‘If you could help me with my zip…’ but let her voice trail off.

  Rafi sat next to her, ran his fingers provocatively down her back and felt a small shudder race through her.

  Kate stood up; her satin dress slipped silently to the floor, revealing her breasts enticingly covered by a lacy black bra, just inches from Rafi’s face.

  Rafi sat still, taking in the sight before him. He was captivated.

  ‘Do you like…?’

  Rafi pulled her forward and kissed her. The question was left unfinished.

  He felt his shirt being unbuttoned; as it went over his head, he stood up and moved closer to her. Her body was warm against his. Their lips met again – her tongue danced provocatively between his lips. He could taste a hint of Cointreau.

  Rafi felt her hands effortlessly undress him. Her fingertips tenderly caressed his naked body.

  Kate was enjoying the effect her teasing was having on him.

  Rafi reached over and switched off the light. He
lifted the sheet and slid under the crisp cotton, closely followed by Kate.

  ‘Now where was I?’ Kate asked playfully as she disappeared under the covers.

  Rafi tingled all over as she slowly explored his body. She worked her way back up to his lips and kissed him lovingly.

  ‘I meant what I said: I’d do anything for you,’ she said as she moved on top on him. ‘At the Headland hotel when I saw Dranoff’s eyes latch on to mine and the sawn-off shotgun come out from under his coat, I was completely petrified. I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed you flying down the stairs screaming at him, trying to draw his attention away from me. It all happened so fast: me thinking I was about to die, you screaming and firing and Dranoff blasting both barrels at you. I saw the wooden banister rail disintegrate into splinters only centimetres away from your body and when you landed in a gory mess at the bottom of the stairs.’ Kate tenderly kissed his lips. ‘In that split second, I realised how very much I loved you. You offered up your life to save mine. I was filled with amazement. I vowed there and then, I’d do absolutely anything for you.’

  She snuggled closer. ‘My fantasy is to make you blissfully happy.’

  The next morning, when Rafi woke, Kate was sleeping soundly by his side. He lay still, not wishing to disturb her. He gazed at her elfin-like features and savoured the memories of the previous night.

  They had a lazy breakfast, showered together and were several minutes late for their coffee with Jeremy in the hotel lobby.

  ‘My, you’re looking radiant this morning,’ Jeremy said to Kate. ‘I see that Luxembourg with a man in tow suits you.’ He smiled at Rafi. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one?’