by Alan Wade
He looked at Onar and asked, “What do you need to begin production?”
“Some lab equipment, some method of containment, a mixing process, a transport system from the boat, protective clothing for the workforce and protective casings for the finished product,” he continued, “preferably a lab sealed off and kept under negative pressure, a lominar flow system and an electron microscope.”
“Christ, we can’t get all that can we?”
“Probably not, but that’s what the Yanks and Brits have and not having it might kill us all.”
“And getting it might get us all killed,”
“We’ll compromise,” nodded Onar, “the farther East in the world you go the more people seem to compromise.” He fell silent as a waiter approached to clear the table and on his departure continued.
“Let’s go through the needs, I am OK with the Lab that’s there now, I’ll reseal it, and I think I can get a reasonable microscope without causing too much fuss, if not I’ll use the one from the boat as a last resort. The mixing process I need to think about. To transport it from the boat we can use large metal containers and place the test tubes in them complete with their rubber casings. Protective clothing is already used by the workforce due to the nature of the current manufacture and I think new face masks and a wash down system will reduce the risk of infecting anybody on site. The protective casing, which is your department, must include two layers of tinfoil, one shiny side facing inward, the second shiny side facing outward, if all this works we will have the weapons in the UK by October.”
The waiter approached again to clear the remains from the table and silence fell as he completed his task and then moved on.
Alan turned to Onar, “I suggest we meet again tomorrow at the Pop In cocktail bar; it’s been good talking with you,” he concluded.
“Likewise, see you tomorrow.”
They stood, shook hands and parted company, Onar left Sun City and Alan walked to the pool bar, it was ten am. He ordered his first pint of Tuborg and nobody batted an eyelid. He leant against the bar and scanned the reclining bodies around the pool, watching as they sprayed oil over their skin to begin another day’s roasting. Kids screamed at each other, some mothers cared and tried to intervene, most didn’t bother. The entertainments manager shouted “Hello.” Sun City was now on full throttle, John Lennon sang, “Give Peace a Chance,” he ordered another Tuborg and thought, “You’re drinking too much,” he downed the second pint and knew he would never get rid of his bloody conscience.
August 2nd, 11.00, The Pop In cocktail Bar.
Onar and Alan sat at their usual private table. Alan drank Becks, Onar drank tea. Onar was confident the WMD could be mixed with the product. He was also confident that enough WMD could be transported from the ship by using divers’ oxygen tanks, so often used on that part of the coast by holiday makers and experienced divers. He believed two men arriving by boat and walking up the beach with diving equipment, putting it into a jeep and driving off would create little suspicion.
Alan confirmed the product outers would be available within 2 weeks and Onar would then be in a position to start manufacture of the products now bearing the LOLTS logo and design. It was agreed that due to the new company name and range of products the first 4 months manufactured batches would contain no WMD.
Alan believed these batches would not only be electronically scanned but also perhaps 10% to 20% would be physically broken and examined. From then on 10% of each product would contain WMD rising to 80% over the following months into the next year. Within this time different product outers could be used to aid a wider distribution across the UK and production of the other product ranges could begin within 2 months of full production of the first range.
Onar would be given a further identity and access to a Syrian bank account. Each week he would cross the border under this new identity and use the banking facility available. Should he receive a telephone call from Alan or Shan with the message “LOLTS is no longer trading,” then he at once would assume the second identity and leave Turkey.
There would be one further contact with Alan in Rhodes, when the factory was in full production and imports into England had been agreed through official channels. Onar would receive confirmation of a contract from a UK distributor soon and would begin to supply products as detailed in the contract. Alan ordered another Elfe beer, Onar rose to leave and they shook hands.
“Goodbye and good luck in your future work,” concluded Alan.
August 2nd, 11.00, An office block near St James tube station, London.
Major Steve Rock produced his identification which was scrutinised before he was allowed to pass into a second identification area. Here he passed through an electronic gate having placed his briefcase on a conveyor belt and placed his hand fingers down on a flat screen. His identification checked he was allowed complete with his briefcase into an open lounge area. He made himself a coffee, sat and waited for his call. It might be ten minutes, it might be 2 hours.
Major Rock had been seconded from the SAS a very fit and able officer his expertise being counter intelligence. Because of this he was part of an enormous team, which he thought was far too big, sifting information from any source possible. The team had multiplied ten fold since Sept 11 and each unit had a given sector to survey. Many units were internal, the UK has a large ethnic population some of whom might be sleepers waiting to strike. Another suicide bomber on a packed underground train would create not only death and destruction but panic among the 3,500,000 daily commuters who used the tube, not to mention the countrywide outrage at the bombing.
However Rock’s area of interest was not internal but Turkey, an enormous country bordering Syria among others which offered easy access to Iraq and other Arab states. Their task was to sift through as much information as possible from the enormous amounts of telephone traffic, web traffic, movements of people and word of mouth from helpers on the ground. His expertise enabled him to compile a dossier overviewing the important information gathered and his task today was to brief his commander with his conclusions. There was so much information that his concluding report would be all that was discussed, a daunting task with possible terrible consequences if he got it wrong. He sat and imagined that Bletchley Park in the 1940’s must have been similar but at least they knew what to listen for, mainly German traffic he believed. Here you had to listen for anything which may be significant.
A light flashed on above a single oak panelled door, Rock stood and holding his briefcase walked to the door, knocked and entered. He was dressed in civilian clothing, an average blue suit, black Oxfords, a white shirt and featureless tie. Mr Average. There were 4 people in the room, 3 men and 1 woman. Everything would be taped and videoed. Rock was beckoned to a seat, the same one he had sat in many times and he knew the video and audio systems would be trained on him.
“Good Morning Major,” said Commander Bagshaw, another civilian policeman seconded for the task from Scotland Yard’s anti-terrorist unit.
“Good Morning,” said Rock as he opened his briefcase, took out a number of bound reports and passed one to each of the group.
“Please begin Major, we have sixty minutes for your briefing.”
He went through his administrative needs, his spending, his requirements and finally spent the greatest part of his sixty minutes on his conclusion. He had over 150 regular suspects whose telephone and electronic chatter was always monitored, but this yet again was in his words, normal. There was always activity near the Syrian border and information coming mainly from Istanbul and Ankara. However there was one slightly extraordinary event which Rock wanted to investigate further with their permission.
A tourist had requested to fly in a Microlight aircraft from Ovacik in the direction of Olu Deniz in Turkey. He had flown the usual route over Hisaronu, the Blue Lagoon and Butterfly Valley and had requested to fly low over the White Dolphin Rest
aurant on his return, in order that his wife might see him and perhaps take a photograph.
As the pilot descended he saw in the clear blue waters a little to the left of the restaurant about 15 meters from the rocky shoreline what appeared to be the wreck of a boat. This was reported to the police upon his return, who investigated. The wreck was found and divers searched what was discovered to be a wrecked Peugeot 307 lying in 20 feet of water from which a body was recovered. The body was that of a man and a full post mortem had concluded that he may have been dead before he hit the water. The car had somersaulted many times before it hit the sea therefore he may have died through injuries received as the car crashed down the mountain side, however bruising to his neck may have been due to some form of strangulation.
His time of death was difficult to ascertain because of the length of time in the water and nobody had come forward to say they had witnessed the car plunge down the mountain. Identification of the body had at first proved difficult because there were no clues on the body and few clues in the car. That in itself was also strange, a dead man with absolutely no ID on him.
The registration number of the car revealed it was hired from Hertz in Syria on the 22nd of July by a man called Tikrit Abdul. He paid in cash and had supporting papers. Nobody had been able to find him since the 22nd, however, the car had travelled hundreds of kilometres in about 6 days and this was a great distance for a tourist to travel. Hertz say that 500 kilometers a week is the norm. We found the distance it had travelled could easily have taken it to Turkey and back. We enquired at the border and indeed the car crossed into Turkey driven by Abdul accompanied by others. All their names have proved to be false.
The group of 4 sat and listened to the Major, no questions would be asked yet: he was the expert and at his recommendation on the final summary, more detail could be asked for if it were required.
Rock continued, “The police in Olu Deniz carried out enquiries at local hotels and found that three men booked into the Karbel Hotel with assumed names and passports. However only two booked out, but they did ask to book out the third person and take his passport which was refused. The third passport impounded by the police was in the name of Tikrit Abdul. This name is on our database and is an alias for a small time crook and suspected terrorist called Oman Hussein (no relation to Saddam). He made 3 mobile telephone calls, 2 on the 24th and one on the 25th all to the same number. We traced that number and found it to belong to a girl called Sevin. My contacts in Syria interviewed her and found her to be his lover. In brief, we found out that he had been offered a fabulous job paying five thousand English pounds per month, which is a phenomenal amount of money. She said he had told her he would have to go into Turkey and back many times and that his job was to transfer information. I believe he was being employed as a runner. He said to her he did not know much detail but one of the people he would be dealing with was very important to the cause, whatever that means. He had opened a bank account in Syria and five thousand pounds had been deposited.
This leaves two other people who we cannot at the moment identify and all three booked into the Karbel hotel on false passports.
What really intrigues me is why do three people have to have aliases and why do none of the others make telephone calls from or receive any in the hotel and if one of the other two is a Mr Big then why no electronic communication; this again I believe is exceptional.”
“Perhaps they were going on holiday,” said one of the four.
“I do not think three people would travel sixteen hours out of Syria, book into a hotel, one die and two book out forty eight hours later; all with false passports and identities if they were going on holiday. Equally if one of the party had gone missing; we now know to be dead; why didn’t they report it to the local police? Why did they try to book him out and get his passport?”
He stopped to take a sip of water then continued, “This is why I request we spend more time investigating Olu Deniz, these three people and the death of this person for whatever reason.”
“Do you have any thoughts on the reasons,” asked the commander.
“Yes, I believe they came to Turkey to organise a terrorist attack with others. Turkey is the bridge between the Middle East and Europe and it has people who sympathise with some radical causes. I believe the dead man was murdered, that he was a runner and that he made the simple mistake of making some phone calls. The Mr Big, if there is such a person, would know that without any electronic communication the Americans and British listening agencies would find their activities virtually impossible to trace.
“But why kill him?” asked the woman, “why not just send him back?”
“I think the answer to that is that when you’re in, you’re in, when you transgress you’re out and the only way out is death. I am also interested in how he was killed. The autopsy found bruising to the sides of the neck perhaps by strangulation and if that is so he may have been executed with a Ju Jitsu or Judo technique. That is not the Arab way and means we have people involved with Martial Arts training. You have to be good to work the technique in the first place on a grown man; but you have to be very good to do it so quickly that the man has no time to claw at your arms or hands. You see the natural response to being strangled is to grab the hands or arms and try to wrench them away and this often results in hair or flesh being found under the fingernails of the dead person. In this case there was none and this fact added to all the other anomalies I have described intrigues me, which is why I request my unit spend some time investigating this issue.”
“How much resource will you need,” asked the woman.
“I would move about 30% of my unit’s activities into this investigation which would leave enough cover over the next 2 months for other duties.”
“What do you need from us,” asked the Commander.
“As you know, terrorists need the following things, training, money, weapons, aliases, reasons to be where they are, cover, means to communicate and a plan. If they are operating as a single unit similar to how the IRA used to operate so successfully, then communication may be non existent. However, money is another issue, they may have it with them but carrying vast amounts of money is risky, especially through borders. Therefore legitimate means of access may need to be set up. You could help here by investigating new accounts set up in banks in Olu Deniz and the local area or perhaps large transactions which have taken place into existing accounts. You will already be aware of the banking arrangements of certain groups therefore checking for any major movements there might help.”
“We will investigate the money aspects,” said the commander. The woman nodded. The man, who had remained silent spoke briefly, “the time is now 12.00, our meeting must close. Thank you for your report, we will contact you with information regarding the money.” He stood up, shook the Major’s hand and escorted him to a second door. He opened it and allowed Rock to pass saying, “Keep safe, we will see you again soon.” The door closed behind the Major and he found himself in a second ante-room. There were no chairs and after two further doors and security checks he found himself in the reception lobby of a second office building.
He contemplated the meeting as he walked to the tube station, his request had been granted but he only had 60 days before his next review and if he could produce no further evidence then the case would be dropped, his work filed away and forgotten.
August 3rd, 07.30 Sun City, Olu Deniz.
The clang of a door closing awoke Alan, tiled floors and thin bare walls made sound travel. He propped himself up on an elbow, took a drink of bottled water and looked in the second bed, Jacky was still absent. He jumped out of bed and entered the bathroom, he peed, crapped, shaved and showered, dressed in shorts, a simple t shirt and trainers and began to pack. His packing took ten minutes but he had no idea what to do with her clothes so he ambled down to the restaurant for breakfast. He selected orange juice and black tea no sugar, top
ped up with cold water to both cool it and reduce its strength. The Turks seemed to like both strong tea and coffee. He asked for a cheese omelette which was cooked to order over an enormous gas flame. He timed it and within 45 seconds it was placed on his plate piping hot.
As he ate he thought, “I hope to God she doesn’t fuck up this return home, everything needs to be normal.” After breakfast he took a walk round the pool, but there was no chance of getting a sun lounger at this time.
“The German buggers must get out of bed at 5 am to secure their favourite spot,” he grumbled as he walked to reception, to check and pay the bill. He then walked around the grounds into the TV lounge and beyond to a quiet lounge area to sit and contemplate.
“Hello,” called a voice.
Alan looked up to see Jacky and a slim very young Turk with black greasy combed back hair, labelled jeans, t shirt and a Rolex watch and jewellery. If it was real it had cost him, but you never knew in Turkey. His experience in body language did not run to designer labels.
“Hi Jacky, nice to see you I was getting a little worried.”
“This is Eral.”
“Hello Eral,” Alan offered his hand which Eral took and shook but no eye contact was made.
“He brought me back in his car, he says he’s happy to drive us to the airport if you wish. He says it will take half the time and be a lot more comfortable, what do you say?”
“Would a trip in a private car to the airport make a difference?” he thought and then replied, “I think it’s a good idea, thank you Eral. My case is in the luggage area. Jacky you need to pack and soon, I’ve paid the bill,” he looked at the two and continued, “Eral, let’s set off when she’s packed. I need to see a little more of this beautiful country of yours.”
“Come and help me pack Eral,” she cooed. She looked radiant, sexy and positive; she had what she wanted. She took Eral’s hand, the key from Alan and walked off.