Three Weeks in September

by Ted Tayler

  “To let us give that matter our full attention, Phoenix,” said Minos, “you could see Hope for thirty minutes. We’ll finish up the rest of the scheduled agenda for today, and then I suggest we pick things up on the Heron’s Quay attack at ten-thirty.”

  “That sounds a plan, Minos,” said Phoenix.

  “Your good habits are rubbing off on me too, Phoenix.”

  “Touché,” said Phoenix, as he was closing the door behind him. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

  CHAPTER 3

  Maria Elena was in the playroom with Hope. As the door opened, the little girl looked up, recognised her father and scrambled across the carpet to greet him. Phoenix scooped her up in his arms, and Hope clung on tight but kept looking behind him, searching for her mother’s face.

  “Sorry, poppet,” said Phoenix. “Mummy’s not coming home today. She’s staying with Grandad.”

  “So sorry,” said Maria Elena, “it was a terrible shock. Giles told me last night.”

  “That it was,” Phoenix agreed, “but we have to move on. We’ll take time to grieve when the funeral takes place. We can’t put our lives on hold for a fortnight while we wait for the rigmarole associated with a terror attack of this nature.”

  “Giles asked me to be available to look after Hope until her mother can return. Will you need me again today?”

  “We’re very grateful to you for dropping everything to look after our daughter, Maria Elena. I’m needed for the rest of the morning in a meeting. Tomorrow morning, I leave on a mission. If you could prepare lunch for Hope and me, then once I return to relieve you around one o’clock, we won’t need you again until the morning. Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine,” the nanny replied. “We’ll be fine on our own for two or three days, won’t we Hope?”

  “Sounds as if we will have to be,” Hope thought, wondering what caused this huge disruption to her routine.

  Phoenix returned to the meeting room. He discovered Alastor waiting outside in the corridor.

  “We’ve finished the minor agenda items, Phoenix,” he said. “Minos suggested we take a five-minute comfort break before we got into the heavy stuff.”

  “Right, as soon as everyone is back we’ll get cracking,” said Phoenix.

  Two minutes later, he didn’t wait for Minos to open proceedings, he wanted answers from the surveillance teams in the ice-house,

  “What news, Giles?”

  “The man Artemis suspected was identified as Ahmed Mansouri, a twenty-eight-year-old Tunisian. He came to the UK in early August via Sangatte. He lived in a makeshift camp there for several weeks. Mansouri was a person of interest to the French authorities, but he slipped away from under their noses and crossed the Channel from Calais.”

  “Do we know where he went next?” asked Phoenix.

  “He moved to Slough, to a flat he now shares with Omar Harrack, a twenty-four-year-old Moroccan student.”

  “Why were the French security services looking at him?” asked Phoenix.

  “He spent two years in Syria before returning to Tunisia a year ago,” Artemis continued. “They suspected him of being involved in a bank raid in Marseilles in November, and trafficking firearms and explosives from North Africa between February and April this year.”

  “Despite the obvious implications of activity such as that, the French security services didn’t think it worth arresting this guy?” asked Phoenix, shaking his head.

  “I can only imagine they thought he could lead them to someone more important in the organisation,” said Giles.

  “As soon as he escaped across the Channel to a place of safety, they washed their hands of the problem,” muttered Rusty. “Don’t you love being in Europe? We’re the dustbin for their criminals and terrorists.”

  “Be reasonable, Rusty,” said Henry Case. “We’ve become a breeding ground too, so they probably think fair’s fair.”

  “Any sign of Harrack on the CCTV feeds we captured?” asked Phoenix, keen to move things forward.

  “That was easier once we uncovered a name for Mansouri,” said Artemis. “I followed the evidence from when he arrived in Dover to an address in the centre of Slough. As soon as we uncovered a photograph of his flatmate Omar Harrack from social media, we spotted him quickly. Harrack was on the opposite side of the street, walking away from Mansouri. We used the time stamps on the CCTV as a reference point. Then we calculated the distance both men would have covered in five minutes at an unhurried pace within the busy streets in Canary Wharf.”

  “Those calculations did my head in at school,” said Rusty. “So, you reckon they walked two or three hundred yards away from an exit point of a building that fitted their purpose?”

  “Roughly,” said Giles, “they had to stay under the radar. Their appearance, although westernised, might have triggered someone’s attention. By remaining cool, calm and collected, they raised no suspicions.”

  “Where does that place them then? Have we identified the building they used?” asked Phoenix.

  Giles produced photos of an apartment block, the lifts, and the interior of a top floor flat.

  “This flat was rented last week. They paid for a three-month short-term lease in cash. Our agents have just finished going through the place. They left nothing usable behind them. Our team found no fingerprints, and no trace of any of the equipment they used. The place had been deep-cleaned. A professional job from start to finish.”

  “Where were they headed when they left this building?” asked Phoenix. “Can we pick them up in Canary Wharf after the initial images you mentioned? Did they meet up later? Did a third party collect them? Were they going to London by road or train? Have they returned by whatever mode of transport to the flat in Slough? Please tell me they haven’t got away?”

  “We’re still piecing together their movements, Phoenix,” said Artemis. “We’ve made good progress, but we all understand the urgency in this case. While we’ve been at this meeting in the main house, other team members in the ice-house have been following up on the things you listed. Giles has added naming the device used to that list. We have an operator hacking into computers that may contain that information. We won’t get close enough to the DLR track itself for days to carry out our own fingertip search, and when we can it will be far too late. If we can locate files on the analysis of shrapnel and other debris collected by the authorities, it will provide us with valuable information. We are checking Harrack’s background too. After he arrived eighteen months ago, he signed up for a two-year History of Art course at a local college but has hardly set foot in the place. Discovering his whereabouts before he landed at Heathrow in 2013 is a matter of priority. If, as you suggest, this forms part of an orchestrated series of attacks the two men have planned, then forewarned is forearmed.”

  Phoenix nodded. He knew he was stressed at not being able to get the answers he craved at once. Artemis was right. They had moved things forward a lot in eighteen hours. They knew their targets now. Time and additional data allowed them to discover if they were still on the move or had gone to ground. If they had holed up somewhere once they resurfaced the surveillance teams would pick them up and follow them. It might be wise to eliminate them in their hideaway before they could do any more damage. He would think things over this afternoon and determine the most beneficial option for Olympus while he took Hope for a swim.

  Minos took advantage of the pause and brought the meeting to a close. It was imperative Giles and Artemis return to the ice-house to continue gathering data on the terrorists. As the agents left the room, Rusty and Henry stopped to chat.

  “Nasty business, these beheading videos, Rusty,” said Henry, “once seen, never forgotten.”

  “Every organisation in history who wanted their message heard has adopted scare tactics. Those tactics begin when talking has got them nowhere. The assassinations of public figures and the bombing of innocent members of the public have become their favourite methods. Kidnapping women and children to use as hu
man shields, and the filming of the execution of prisoners is relatively new. The depths to which these fanatics can stoop never ceases to amaze.”

  “I pray we never respond in kind, Rusty,” said Henry. “I have felt guilty for months concerning my own role. I’ve carried out interrogations over the past four years that have flown close to the edge of what’s legal. Although I never cross the line, many wouldn’t accept any of what we do is right. Those criminals I’ve killed were guilty as charged. I’ve never doubted that, but there have been nights of late when I’ve laid awake wondering whether their deaths were necessary.”

  “The love of a good woman can have a profound effect on a man, Henry,” said Rusty, laying a hand on his shoulder. “That’s where this is coming from, isn’t it?”

  Henry Case nodded.

  “Olympus never asks us to act without justification, Henry,” said Rusty. “You have saved countless lives in the past four years. By ensuring the criminals and terrorists sent to the lowest level of the ice-house never return to the surface to commit further crimes you are serving the greater good. Never question that. I don’t.”

  “Thank you, Rusty,” said Henry. “It’s good to talk these things over with someone who understands. My problem is that I’m not sure Sarah sees things the same way.”

  “I struggled with the same thoughts when I first met Artemis, Henry,” said Rusty. “How could a serving police detective throw her lot in with a secret vigilante organisation? She returned to her parent’s home in Durham and wrestled with her conscience in the month before she came to live and work at Larcombe. I’ve never doubted her commitment to the cause since she arrived here. I’m sure many others, still in uniform, would welcome a return to a stronger police force. Both in numbers, and the approach to dealing with crime in all its forms. As Artemis has told me more than once, at least we get things done.”

  Henry returned to the ice-house. There were no inmates to interrogate or take direct action against today. He needed to maintain security at Larcombe Manor, and help training new agents, and the retraining of those brought home from overseas assignments. While that situation remained, he was a happy man. Sarah couldn’t find much to complain about with that role. The spectre of her uncovering his other darker duties remained. Henry Case prayed he could sleep well tonight.

  Rusty hoped he put Henry’s mind at rest. He walked to the apartment he shared with Artemis and made himself lunch. At two o’clock he returned to the orangery to continue reviewing the plans for the next few days. As he settled to his task, he saw Phoenix carrying Hope on his shoulders as he crossed the lawns towards the workers’ cottages. Time spent in the heated pool would make a welcome change this afternoon, but he had to fill in for Phoenix today. His own relaxation must wait.

  His best friend had put his family first. That came as no big surprise after yesterday’s events. Rusty’s relationship with his father may have been fractious, but he had dearly loved his mother. He knew Phoenix’s own family situation and knew how important Grace Fox became to him. Someone would pay for destroying that relationship.

  Rusty opened the first file and looked again at their first target. Nine men from Rochdale and Oldham were found guilty two years ago of offences including rape and conspiracy to engage in sexual activity with a child. The vile group exploited girls as young as thirteen and were sentenced to between ten and twenty years.

  The court heard how their victims were plied with drink and drugs before being passed around for sex. The abuse took place at two takeaway restaurants in the Heywood area of Rochdale. The judge said the men treated the girls as if they were worthless. Last December a further five men were jailed after an investigation into the sexual abuse of a girl reopened following the exposure of police failings.

  The sentences handed out reflected the public revulsion at the crimes involved. On completion of their time served, virtually every man had been ordered to be deported to their home countries of Pakistan, or Afghanistan. Phoenix and Athena learned at the weekend when they visited the North that several men already asked for legal aid to fight attempts to repatriate them. After the direct action this week, a marker would be left on the file for further action to respond to the expected outcry from the public. The men didn’t consider the human rights of the girls they abused. Olympus would ensure they didn’t find a loophole provided by the European Court of Justice that forced the UK to continue to provide them with family life.

  Olympus agents working in the north-west discovered a minimum of seven men still grooming young teenage girls and boys. These children repeatedly went missing from care. Nothing much had changed in the region. Lessons hadn’t been learned. Phoenix and Rusty intended to stop this activity for good.

  Three men’s names had been highlighted by the Olympus team. They lived in the small town of Heywood, sandwiched between the most deprived places in the north-west. Head out of Heywood in any direction and you either get to Bury, Rochdale or Oldham. When Rusty thought back to the other missions near Manchester, Heywood seemed to be a carbon copy.

  Few young people who lived there had any aspirations. If you got the chance to get out you would grab it, Rusty thought. But they seemed content to steal what wasn’t bolted down, get blind drunk, and do drugs. Was that what encouraged these older guys to consider them worthless? Did the youngest ones bring it on themselves to a degree? Either way, it was wrong, and they must be punished.

  Agents watched the council care homes where the most vulnerable kids lived. That surveillance would continue until tomorrow when the direct action began.

  Rusty put the Rochdale file to one side. Ninety minutes away from Rochdale lay the South Yorkshire town of Rotherham. The sheer scale of that case appalled him. How on earth could something so widespread continue for over twenty years without someone speaking out?

  The inquiry report that emerged last week was in the file for reference, but Rusty knew the men in prison were in the minority. There were dozens, maybe hundreds guilty of a whole range of offences. The Olympus targets this week were the ringleaders and the most frequent offenders who avoided arrest and appropriate punishment. This was no time to be hanging back, waiting for the authorities to wake up, at last, to arrest and charge them.

  The report Minos and Alastor had compiled for Phoenix on Rotherham made for uncomfortable reading. The area suffered high levels of deprivation. A quarter of the children were affected by income deprivation, and that number was increasing. The government’s austerity programme now in effect for three years would only intensify deprivation in the region. Incomes in the poorest households of families with children would be reduced. Similar financial hardships fell on the disabled or long-term sick. Those in the greatest need were always the hardest hit.

  Rusty was a simple man. He ran away to join the army as soon as he was old enough. Yet with limited education, he understood that poverty limited the ability of people to take part in society. The teenage girls and boys who became victims of these grooming gangs in the past decades couldn’t change their lifestyles. Their destiny was determined by others. No wonder they felt abandoned, unloved and unwanted. The affection they found at the hands of their abusers was criminal. As Rusty ingested the context against which it emerged, he realised it wasn’t only that their abusers thought them worthless; society had convinced these children they were worthless too. What a mess.

  Rusty spent the next two hours checking the plans for the rest of the week. Everything was in place. As he worked, he saw Phoenix and Hope return from their time in the swimming pool. They looked so happy. Father and daughter in their own little world. Hope laughing as she tottered across the lawn. Several times she stumbled and pitched forward on her knees. Each time, Phoenix lifted her up, but she wriggled against his chest, keen to get down and try again. She would never concede defeat.

  The innocence of youth thought Rusty. Artemis often said she wanted a child. They were settled in their relationship. Both knew danger always lay around the corner for an agent
on a mission. Even so, it was something to complete them, make them a family. On the other side of the coin, there was Rochdale, Rotherham, and possibly every major city and town across the country. What sort of a world was it they were bringing a child into? Rusty closed the files and reports he had studied.

  He was ready. It was time to stem the tide. The evidence the reports contained pointed Rusty to a lesson from this country’s ancient history. The apocryphal anecdote in which King Canute demonstrated to his courtiers he had no control over the elements. He could not stop the incoming tide, showing the futility of trying to stop the progress of inexorable events. Rusty was naïve enough to believe no matter what odds they faced, Olympus must act. If they didn’t, the evil continued. There was a point when you had to put a stake in the ground and say - no more.

  Wednesday, 3rd September 2014

  Phoenix lay awake by seven. He wandered along the corridor to Hope’s bedroom. She was lying on her back, grabbing her feet and rocking from side to side. She grinned as soon as she saw her father enter the room.

  “Time for us to get ready,” he said, picking her up. “You smell as if we’ve got cleaning-up to do.”

  Half an hour later, Hope was clean, dry, and in her outfit for the day. With luck.

  Maria Elena could manage any changes of clothes. Phoenix would be on his way north. His bags packed. He chatted to Hope for the fifteen minutes they had to wait for the nanny to arrive for the overtime shift.

  “I hope you will be a good girl for Maria Elena,” he said. “Daddy’s got to go to work with Uncle Rusty. Mummy will be home tomorrow.”

  Hope looked at her father’s face as he spoke. He thought she was taking everything in.

  “Mummy,” she said.

  “Yes, she called me last night from Grandad’s house. She misses you. Grandad says he can manage without her. He’s being brave.”

  Hope listened intently. It confirmed what she thought. Something bad had happened. Mummy and Daddy would make it right. She was a fast learner. At nine months old, she understood that that’s what they did.