by Ken McClure
‘You’d think not,’ agreed Steven. ‘But maybe a few questions here and there?’
Anwar Khan and Muhammad Patel basked in the praise that was being heaped upon them, as did the other six young Asians. It was the first they had heard of the outcome of their attack as there was no radio or television in the farmhouse and no access to newspapers. The men had spent two nervous days and nights waiting as patiently as they could for word to arrive about the arrangements for leaving the UK.
‘My brothers, you have been so successful that there has been a change of plan.’
Khan felt his blood run cold. He wanted to do his bit, but in his heart of hearts he dreaded being asked to don the belt of the martyr and blow himself up. He knew all about the promised pleasures that awaited him in Paradise, but…
‘The Sons of the Martyrs ask that you carry out another attack before you leave for Pakistan and the hero’s welcome you so richly deserve.’
Khan looked at Patel and saw the look of relief there before he averted his eyes. He had been thinking the same thing.
‘We ask that you attack four more targets, this time in different cities, to capitalise on the fear and panic that is already out there and bring it to levels where the authorities will fail to cope. By the time the disease has rampaged through the land you will have established a reputation that will live for ever.’
‘And then will we be allowed to join our brothers?’ asked Patel.
‘You will be flown out to the border camps as planned to help in the struggle to drive the infidel from our lands. After your success here, the British will be running scared: their withdrawal will be assured. The Americans will be left isolated as the Russians were before them, and soon Afghanistan will be free of them all.’
‘Which cities, and when do we carry out the attacks?’ asked Khan.
‘You will be told when the time is right. In the meantime, I have brought more provisions for your stay. Patience, my brothers.’
The new government had learned lessons from the handling of the swine flu outbreak, where experts had made predictions that proved to be well wide of the mark. Those experts had found themselves in the firing line, and had clearly felt obliged to protect their professional backsides by citing the worst possible scenario with regard to case numbers and likely deaths. Once such figures had been uttered publicly, politicians had had no option but to proceed on them and act accordingly.
This time, the government set up a committee of four people to keep the public informed about the course of the epidemic and the measures being taken to counteract it. No one man would take the flak. The chief medical adviser, Dr Oliver Clunes, was joined by Norman Travis from the health department, Lydia Thomas, a junior minister from the Home Office, and Deputy Chief Constable Stella Mornington from Manchester city police. Each evening at seven p.m. the committee would appear on all terrestrial TV channels to give out information and answer questions sent in by viewers.
It had been agreed from the outset that, although health was a devolved matter in Scotland and therefore within the remit of the Scottish government, the current situation was considered more of a defence issue and therefore not devolved. The handling of the crisis would be overseen by the Westminster government.
The committee’s first broadcast gave details of the planned vaccination programme, due to be operational by the Monday of the following week. The chief medical adviser gave a short summary of what cholera was and how it affected people — delivered in a dispassionate, academic way — before handing over to Norman Travis, who seemed more at ease in front of camera. He gave details of the counter-measures in a much more user-friendly way. The most vulnerable in society would be given protection first. All children under two years of age should be taken by their mothers to their GPs where they would be vaccinated with stocks diverted from travel clinics and military supplies all over the UK. All people over sixty years of age and everyone whose immune system had been compromised through the taking of suppressive drugs should attend one of the new mass-vaccination centres — a series of temporary clinics being set up in city halls all over the UK. They would be given vaccine diverted from the Third World aid programme until new stocks came on line, at which time the rest of the population would be invited to attend the mass clinics. Details of the location of these clinics would be given on local radio and TV stations and in local newspapers.
It was stressed that only people believing themselves to be healthy should attend the clinics. Anyone suspecting that they could be suffering from or had been exposed to cholera should seek help through one of the emergency lines which were now fully operational.
Stella Mornington, a pleasant-looking woman who exuded common sense rather than the air of authoritarian formality exhibited by many senior police officers when talking to the media — the reason she’d been chosen for the role — appealed for calm in the current emergency and urged people to go about their daily business as usual wherever possible. She stressed however that those not complying with emergency regulations in areas affected by cholera would be dealt with severely, as they would be putting their fellow citizens at risk.
Finally, Lydia Thomas, another pleasant-looking woman whose natural charm overcame any barrier her upper class credentials might otherwise have put up, gave details of the various helplines available and how they should be used.
TWENTY-SIX
Edinburgh, Tuesday 1 June 2010
‘I hate to tempt fate,’ said the chief executive of Edinburgh City Council, ‘but I think we should give ourselves a little pat on the back.’
The other members of the major incident team did not disagree.
‘I think we’ve been very lucky so far,’ said Alice Spiers. ‘We’ve managed to contain the outbreak, with only sixteen cases occurring outside the immediate vicinity of the flats. No more deaths in the past three days, and vaccination already started for the very young.’
‘The mass clinics will open on schedule next Monday,’ said the chief exec. ‘Eight halls are to be used across the city, all staffed by volunteer medical and nursing staff with the assistance of medical students. The vaccine itself should be here some time on Sunday.’
‘Civil unrest has been minimal,’ said the chief constable, joining in the self-congratulations. ‘Restriction on movements has been kept to a minimum, and I think the decision not to close all public places was the right one.’
‘Mind you, the NHS 24 phone lines have been going like a fair,’ said Lynn James, ‘but that was only to be expected. People are naturally very worried, but we’ve been able to reassure them that the authorities are on top of things.’
‘It could be the lull before the storm,’ cautioned Alice Spiers. ‘I hate to go all Scottish on you and look on the black side, but if there should be another attack…’
‘Then all bets are off,’ conceded the chief constable. ‘Everything could change in an instant. We could be faced with blind panic all over the country.’
‘Our hospitals and medical services could be absolutely overwhelmed,’ said Alice Spiers. ‘We’re only getting by at the moment because we’ve managed to largely contain the outbreak to the flats where it originated and treat affected people in their own homes. I take it the police haven’t arrested anyone for the attacks?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the chief constable. ‘But if the perpetrators were home-grown as the intelligence services believe, they may well have returned to their communities where there’s a good chance they’ll be regarded with suspicion and even informed upon.’
‘On the other hand, they could still be out there, planning phase two,’ suggested the chief exec, whose early optimism had faded away.
‘There’s also the possibility that they may have contracted cholera and be dying in some lonely barn in the middle of nowhere,’ said Alice Spiers. ‘It takes skill and training to handle dangerous bacteria. It’s the easiest thing in the world to infect yourself if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.’
‘A happy thought,’ said the chief constable.
The chief exec smiled wryly. ‘So we hope for the best and prepare for the worst, as someone once said.’
Forty-five miles away, Anwar Khan and Muhammad Patel were preparing to ensure that the chief exec’s preparations would be justified. They had driven up from Northumberland to Waheed Malik’s newly rented premises in Glasgow three nights before to receive instructions for their second mission. The success of their first attack had done much to dispel the nerves they had both suffered from last time, although in Khan’s case these had been replaced by a different feeling of unease when he heard details of the target. It prompted him to ask questions.
‘In Edinburgh it was just a case of gaining access to water tanks in some old buildings,’ he said. ‘Pumping stations will be different. They’ll have security.’
Malik shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We have been monitoring the station for some time. There’s no security. The water board doesn’t do security.’
‘But surely after what we did last time…’
‘They’ve secured blocks of flats all over the country. That’s the way security works in the UK. They prevent the same thing from happening again. There has been no new security put on water board pumping stations. We’ve been watching.’
‘If you say so,’ said Khan, still sounding a bit doubtful.
‘Courage, brother. This time tomorrow you will have struck the blow which will damage morale so much that our victory will be guaranteed.’
Malik spread a plan of the pumping station on the table and went over the details again. ‘Once more I remind you, the critical thing is that you introduce the solution to the pipe after it exits the blue valve of the filtration and chlorination unit located here.’ Malik stabbed his finger on the map. ‘Remember its location in relation to the door you’ll enter by… here.’
‘Which will be padlocked,’ said Khan.
‘The bolt cutters will make short work of that.’
‘But are you sure about the perimeter fence?’ said Patel, beginning to share Khan’s anxiety. ‘No barbed wire?’
‘None,’ replied Malik. ‘Simple five-foot railings. You’ll be over in a flash.’
‘But there are houses nearby. What if someone sees us and raises the alarm?’
‘They’ll all be asleep at three o’clock in the morning and the station is located on a hill. You put the van in neutral and coast down the last two hundred metres. Then you sit and wait to make sure all is quiet.’
Khan and Patel had run out of questions; they sat in silence until Malik suggested they check they had everything they’d need in the back of the van.
‘What time did you say we should leave here?’ asked Patel.
‘Ten o’clock. We don’t want to risk disturbing the neighbours by leaving any later. Drive to the car park we decided on and wait there until it’s time. It’s only used by hill walkers so it will be empty at that time of night.’
The three men watched the TV broadcast of the government’s advice and information panel at seven p.m., remaining impassive as Oliver Clunes, the government’s chief medical adviser, reported to the nation that only thirty-eight new cases of cholera had occurred across the country in the past twenty-four hours.
‘We have also heard from the laboratories at Colindale that the bacterium is sensitive to antibiotics,’ announced Norman Travis. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet but it does look as if we could be getting the upper hand.’
Stella Mornington reported that the public had been behaving with the good common sense that the British were noted for in times of emergency, and very few arrests had been made for non-compliance with the emergency regulations.
Lynn Davies reminded the public about the helplines that were available, and urged everyone to find out the location of their nearest mass-vaccination clinic well before the commencement of the programme on the following Monday.
All four managed a smile as the programme ended, even the chief medical adviser, who made it look like an unnatural act.
‘They won’t be smiling tomorrow, my brothers,’ muttered Malik, ‘when they start drowning in rivers of their own filth. They’ll be demanding that their troops be withdrawn from the Middle East and an end put to their imperialist adventure with the American pigs.’
Steven Dunbar had been watching the same broadcast at his flat in Marlborough Court. Tally phoned shortly afterwards. ‘Well, what d’you think?’
‘Things are looking better than I’d feared,’ said Steven.
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Tally. ‘I can’t believe we’re getting off so lightly — no disrespect to those who’ve died, but it could have been so much worse.’
‘We should remember that the police haven’t caught anyone yet; there could be a second wave.’
‘Please God, no,’ Tally sighed. ‘That would just be too awful… God, it just doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Then let’s not,’ said Steven. ‘We’ll cross those bridges when we come to them.’
‘By the way, I asked around to see if anyone had heard rumours about a new health scheme or changed pharmacy arrangements being introduced in the autumn but I drew a complete blank, I’m afraid. No one knew anything at all about it.’
‘Thanks anyway. I’ve asked Jean to check out the other health authorities on the list, but if your lot haven’t heard anything I guess the others won’t have either. Maybe the Schiller mob didn’t get that far before the bomber stepped in.’
‘Maybe the bomber was a good guy after all.’
‘I hope so.’
‘I was just thinking this morning: if things continue to get better, maybe we’ll get a chance to take that trip you suggested to Newcastle to pay our respects to the other good guys?’ said Tally.
‘That’s a real possibility. There wasn’t much to say at the COBRA meeting this morning. I think they’ll be stopping them soon.’
‘Good. Then maybe we can go on up to Scotland after Newcastle and spend some time with Jenny?’
‘That would be nice.’
Although he meant it, Steven said it on autopilot. His attention had strayed back to Tally’s reporting that no one in the Leicester health authority had heard anything about a proposed change to services coming in the autumn. The whole thing suddenly struck him as strange. If the Schiller Group were still discussing things back in February, when the outcome of the election would not be known until May, there wouldn’t have been time to introduce a new health initiative by the autumn as the recovered disk had outlined… but did it matter now that the world had changed? Steven smiled as he remembered Lisa pointing out that he had the kind of mind that would find something suspicious on a bus ticket. A large gin and tonic and an early night were called for.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Patel. ‘The car park is straight on here.’
‘I want to drive past the pumping station.’
‘What for? Someone could see us.’ Patel sounded agitated.
‘Relax. It’s quarter past ten. There’s plenty of traffic about and we’re in an unmarked white van. I just want to make sure about the railings.’
‘But Waheed already told you.’
‘I know he did,’ said Khan, checking his mirrors and slowing slightly as they passed the pumping station.
‘See, exactly as he said,’ said Patel. ‘Five-foot railings. Now let’s go to the car park like we agreed.’
‘All right, all right… I just needed to be sure.’
Patel shot him a sideways glance. ‘Don’t you trust Waheed?’
‘Of course,’ said Khan.
Patel, unconvinced, shot him another nervous glance but didn’t say any more. The unscheduled drive-by of the pumping station had already unsettled him more than enough.
The hill car park was as deserted as Malik had predicted, but Khan still took the precaution of driving head first into a parking place so that he and Patel were facing a clump of bushes. If he’d reversed in, any v
ehicle entering the car park would have caught them in the sweep of its headlights. Khan switched off the engine and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being contracting metal clicks from the van.
‘Do you think we’ll ever see our families again?’ asked Patel.
‘It’s enough that they will be proud of us,’ replied Khan.
‘Yes, but-’
‘Enough. We are soldiers on a mission. We must look forward, not back.’
‘You’re right. I wonder what the camps will be like? I’ve never been abroad… you?’
‘No.’
‘Our country… but we’ve never been there. Seems strange, don’t you think?’
‘Look-’ Khan’s angry response was cut short by a vehicle entering the car park, its headlights lighting up the shrubbery briefly, causing both men to sink down in their seats.
‘It’s slowing,’ hissed Patel.
‘It’s a car park.’
Patel sat motionless, staring straight ahead while Khan monitored the car’s progress in the van’s mirrors. It circled round to the opposite side of the car park, its tyres crunching on the gravel surface, and extinguished its lights as it drew to a halt.
‘As far away as possible,’ muttered Khan. ‘Guess what they’re doing.’
Patel didn’t respond. Humour was the last thing on his mind.
Conversation between the two men was uncomfortable and sporadic for the remainder of their wait, which was punctuated by the arrival of two more cars and the departure of the original one. ‘Like rabbits,’ muttered Patel when the third car drove in.
The last car left at one thirty a.m., allowing both men to get out and relieve themselves in the bushes. ‘I thought they’d never go,’ said Khan.
‘Me too,’ said Patel. It was the friendliest exchange they’d had.
At twenty to three, Khan, after checking his watch for the umpteenth time, finally said, ‘It’s time.’ The words acted as a safety valve. Their enforced immobility, which had been acting as a magnifier of all things bad for both of them, had come to an end and they were finally on the move. The tension didn’t return until they were drifting down the hill towards the pumping station in neutral.