‘You’re right, Anne, but I’m not going to resign,’ he replied. ‘And any criticism outside of here and I’ll put you on the backbench.’
‘You threatened that before. You won’t and you know it. Once I’m on the backbench, I can openly criticise you where and when I like. The party will flock to me.’
‘You certainly have a high opinion of yourself,’ the Prime Minister said.
‘I’m what this country, my country, needs,’ she said. ‘I intend to take your job, in part because I want it, but mainly because it’s the only way to save this country from a malevolent group of individuals who would have us back in the dark ages.’
‘You’re wrong in your approach to the current situation. I’ll fight you all the way,’ the Prime Minister said.
‘Prime Minister, Clifford, the country’s going to hell, people are dying like flies, blown apart limb from limb and you still indulge in old-fashioned politics. You’ve got to go.’
‘How’s your new adviser?’
‘Rohan Jones? He’s doing fine,’ she said as she left the room.
***
‘Captain Macintyre, one hundred packages, no more than one kilo, placed throughout the boat would suffice,’ Andrew asked.
‘From what you’ve told me about the explosives normally used,’ Macintyre replied.
‘And they’d all need some sort of timer to ignite?’
‘I’d say so,’ replied Macintyre. ‘A radio signal would be unreliable. The metal structure of the vessel would tend to attenuate any signal.’
‘One individual could carry on a package at a time without suspicion?’ Frederick asked.
‘It’s possible,’ Macintyre conceded. ‘The security checks would be minimal for anyone with sufficient clearance.’
‘Such as a serving member?’ Andrew asked.
‘Or members?’ the Captain added.
‘I believe we must assume that there’s only one person,’ said Andrew. ‘It seems inconceivable that even the Islamic State could coerce one, let alone two.’
‘Then we need to know who made enough trips on board,’ Frederick said.
‘There’s not many, only four.’ Captain Macintyre had obtained a list of all the crew and their visits on and off the boat.
‘Let’s have their names and family details,’ Frederick asked.
‘Okay, here goes,’ said Macintyre. ‘Chief Petty Officer Simon Ballantyne, aged forty-two, divorced, no children. Able Seaman John Phillimore, aged thirty-three, married. Wife, Yvonne, one child, a daughter. Lieutenant Anthony Makepeace, twenty-eight, married. Wife, Angela, two children, one son, one daughter. Sub Lieutenant Ray Styles, twenty-four, married. Wife, Sara, no children.’
‘It has to be one of those four,’ Andrew said.
‘It’s not much to go on. What do we know about the families? Where are the wives from?’ Frederick asked.
‘Ray Styles has, or had an Indian wife, the others are all English.’ Macintyre was still struggling with the concept that a serving member of the British Royal Navy could be involved although he had given all the information required. At the end of the second day, Andrew and Frederick dispensed with his services.
Early on the third morning, Andrew phoned Isaac Cook. ‘We need some investigative work. Do you have anyone who we could liaise with?’
‘Are you still working on the submarine theory? You’re aware of the churches?’
‘Yes, it was tragic. We did predict it, though,’ Andrew said.
‘I know you did, but the churches weren’t going to close just because we issued a warning.’
‘You tried your best,’ Andrew said.
‘What’s the relevance of the submarines? I was too busy when you phoned the other day.’
‘As we stated before, whoever orchestrated that disaster is a master tactician. The targets will be increasingly harder to reach, more secure. Finding out how the submarine was sabotaged and by whom may lead us to him.’
‘I’ll send Farhan Ahmed. He’s our best person for the job. He’ll be with you in the next few hours.’
***
‘Shafi, you’ve proven to us that you can be trusted,’ Haji said.
‘I delivered the packages successfully as you asked.’
‘It was a test. You sent nothing, just some old books.’
‘Why would you do that?’ Shafi asked.
‘We needed to know if you were cheating us, double-crossing us with those who arranged your release from Belmarsh,’ Haji said.
‘Why are we meeting here? It’s a dump.’
‘It’s your home for the next few weeks,’ Haji said as they sat on a couple of wooden crates in the old warehouse. It was here that Shafi had found the packages of books which he had sent around the country.
‘What do you mean?’ said Shafi. ‘I’ve got a nice little place, two bedrooms, real pleasant.’
‘You’ll be staying here,’ Haji informed Shafi. ‘We’ll look after your place. I’ll go there personally if you like, feed the cat, water the flowers. I can’t help you with screwing the tarts that you take around there, though.’
‘I don’t have a cat or any flowers. What’s going on here?’
‘It’s simple, Shafi. You can’t serve two masters. It’s either us or you’re dead.’
‘What’s this about? I’ve played fair by you.’
‘Khalid and Mustafa are going to look after you for a while.’
‘I don’t need looking after. I’m fully grown. I can take care of myself.’
‘Who visited you at the prison?’ Haji asked.
‘What do you mean? I didn’t have any visitors.’
‘Your appeal lawyers, who were they?’ Haji asked again.
‘They were just my lawyers.’
‘Here’s an easy one.’ Haji prepared to ask another question.
‘Okay,’ Shafi said.
‘Why did that bitch judge let you go?’
‘The policemen were drunk. They admitted it.’
‘And what if I told you that one of those policemen hasn’t drunk in ten years, and the other one barely drank more than a pint of beer a night?’
‘I wouldn’t know that.’
‘Shafi,’ said Haji, ‘you are going to tell us all about the Counter Terrorism Command, the appeal lawyers who happen to work at the Office of National Statistics, and what deal you’ve stitched up with them.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘That’s fine. Lie as much as you want. It will only make Khalid and Mustafa’s softening up all the sweeter for them.’
‘You can’t hold me here,’ said Shafi angrily. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I never cheated on you when I was in Belmarsh.’
‘That’s true, and that is why we see you as a worthy candidate to join our organisation,’ Haji said.
‘I’ve told you that I don’t hold with your views. I like England the way it is now.’
‘In a couple of days,’ said Haji, ‘you will tell us about Isaac Cook, Ed Pickles, Frederick Vane and Andrew Martin. In seven to ten days, you will be a fervent member of the Islamic State.’
‘You can’t change me! I am Shafi, good old loveable rogue Shafi.’ He involuntarily wet himself.
‘You should be pleased,’ said Haji. ‘It is a great honour that we are bestowing on you. Normally, we would just torture a double-crosser to death, but in your case, you are going to live.’
‘You can’t do this!’ Shafi shouted.
‘Khalid, Mustafa, grab him. He’s yours. You know what to do.’
‘Haji, leave him to us,’ Khalid replied.
Chapter 2 2
Farhan Ahmed was not enjoying his day in Exeter. The rain was heavy, the temperature too cool for him. Tracking the wife of a dead sailor seemed a futile exercise. He knew that she was living with her dead husband’s family down close to Plymouth. He had not expected to find much.
It was later in the day when he phoned. ‘What have you found?’ Frederick asked. Judging by Farhan’s
tone, something was amiss.
‘That’s the problem. I haven’t found anything,’ Farhan said.
‘What do you mean?’ Frederick asked.
‘It’s strange. The address that you gave me is unoccupied.’
‘What’s strange in that?’
‘I’ve checked with the local Hindu community. They don’t know the people who lived at the address.’
‘Is that an issue?’ Frederick asked.
‘Indian communities, especially Hindus, tend to keep together, help each other out, and then there’s always an extended family. It appears that the people in this one house kept to themselves.’
‘What else do you have?’ Frederick asked.
‘It appears that they only lived here for a year or so, not the fifteen or so that you intimated.’
‘Ray Styles’ wife, what did you find out about her?’
‘According to the local people in the area, she only appeared about nine months ago. She always told people she was back from boarding school or some other story, but they don’t remember her apart from that.’
‘What did the local people think of them?’
‘They weren’t sure. There are a few Hindus in the neighbourhood but, apart from infrequent conversations, there was little communication.’
‘Are you sure they’re Hindus?’ Frederick asked.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Farhan replied. ‘I’ll do some more investigation.’
‘What more can you do?’
‘I’ll break in later tonight. ‘I’ll have a look around the house.’
‘You can do that now,’ said Andrew. He had been listening in on another phone line.
‘I realise that,’ Farhan replied. ‘But what if it proves that Sara Styles was not who she pretended to be? They, I assume the Islamic State, may well have someone keeping a watch on the house.’
‘You’re right. It’s best if you use your discretion.’
‘I’ll call in the morning when I have my results,’ Farhan said.
Farhan Ahmed was an expert in surveillance. He was sure that, if anyone was watching the house, he would spot them. It was close to one in the morning when he entered by the back door of the house. It was still raining and, with an overcast sky and no moon, it was a relatively simple exercise. The house was a typical terrace house built sixty years previously – three bedrooms upstairs, living room downstairs in the front and a kitchen at the rear.
The curtains in the house were heavy and pulled closed. It allowed him the luxury of using a small, penlight torch to look around without too much fear of being seen. The furniture was basic, the bedding clean, although indicative of no one being in the house for some months. Yet again, it was what he did not find that disturbed him the most. It was six o’clock in the morning when Frederick was woken from his sleep.
‘I’ve checked the house,’ Farhan said.
‘What did you find?’
‘Or what I did not find.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I found nothing indicative of a Hindu household.’
‘What do you mean?’ Frederick, sitting up and alert, asked.
‘There should be a family shrine, the smell of incense,’ Farhan said.
‘And what did you find?’ Frederick attempting to setup up a conference line with Andrew at the same time.
‘I found nothing to confirm Sara Styles’ background.’
‘Ray Styles would have been there,’ Frederick said.
‘Maybe, but he may not have been looking for shrines or incense. Apparently, Sara Styles was westernised. Ray Styles may have assumed the parents were as well.’
‘Did you find anything else of interest at the house?’ asked Andrew, who had joined the conversation.
‘I found a prayer mat,’ Farhan said.
‘What’s the significance?’ Andrew asked.
‘It’s Islamic,’ Farhan said.
‘Are you certain of that?’ Andrew asked.
‘I’m certain. I know what they look like. I’ve got one myself.’ Farhan, a devout Muslim, knew what he had seen.
‘It’s not conclusive, though,’ Andrew said.
‘No, a lot of people buy them as souvenirs on holidays in the Middle East,’ said Farhan. ‘But a Hindu family? I just can’t see them buying one.’
‘So where do we go from here?’ Frederick asked.
‘We need to find out who her parents are,’ Farhan said. ‘There must be some records of them arriving in England.’
‘Okay, we’ll need to get Isaac Cook and Ed Pickles onto it,’ Frederick said.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to it,’ Farhan said.
***
‘DCI Cook, Isaac,’ Anne Argento said on the early morning phone call to her favourite policeman.
‘Deputy Prime Minister, what can I do for you?’
‘You can start by calling me Anne when no one else is around or listening in.’
‘I’ll do that out of hours if you like,’ replied Isaac, ‘but you’ve no doubt called me on official business. I must act with the necessary formality.’
‘Okay, but I’ll call you Isaac. I need updates.’
‘Deputy PM, you’re aware that, for me to discuss this openly with you, it would be a breach of protocol. I need to go through my Commander as well as the PM.’
‘I know the protocol as well as anyone, but the Prime Minister’s on his way out. I’m determined to take his position, but the situation is more serious than my personal ambitions.’
‘I would agree,’ Isaac said.
‘You and your team have done the best you can. You stopped York Minster being destroyed, saved a lot of lives.’ Anne Argento was circumspect in her congratulations. She realised that the Counter Terrorism Command had achieved little in tangible results.
‘York Minster maybe, but we were unable to protect the churches.’ He still felt disappointment at the loss of life.
'Isaac, what’s next? You’ve got to confide in me. They’ve hit the military, the Church. Is it the police?’
‘Frederick Vane and Andrew Martin believe it’s a strong possibility.’
‘And what are we doing to stop this?’ she asked.
‘The police are more diligent than most, but when and where…’
‘They’ll go after the big targets,’ the Deputy PM answered for the Detective Chief Inspector. ‘Isn’t that what your analysts will say, are saying?’
‘Exactly, but how and when is always pure conjecture,’ Isaac acknowledged.
‘What about a man undercover with the Islamic State? Have you managed to achieve that yet?’
‘We’re still working on that, but he’s been out of touch for a week or so.’
‘Is that okay with you?’ she asked.
‘We’re starting to worry, but there’s not much we can do.’
‘You think he may have gone over to their side? Is this the guy with the dubious background?’
‘Yes, he’s a true villain. It’s unlikely he’d join with them out of some religious dogma. He’s only interested in himself and what’s in it for him.’
‘He could join them if they persuaded him that it would be to his advantage?’ she said.
‘It’s possible, but I’d rule it out at this time.’
‘In politics, as in life, never discount the possible,’ she said. ‘What about the police?’
‘It’s still got to be New Scotland Yard. Failing that, they’ll aim to pick off some regional police stations.’
‘What’s the protection like at New Scotland Yard,’ she asked.
‘It’s tight, same as every else, but the Islamic State still manages to find a way through.’
‘What else are you up to?’ Anne Argento was still keen to pursue a personal relationship with the policeman.
‘We’re looking into how and who could have taken out the submarine.’ Isaac saw no reason to hide a new area of investigation. He knew he was possibly saying more than he should, but the situation was no lo
nger a senior politician and a policeman discussing ‒ it was two friends heading towards a romantic entanglement.
‘Is that relevant?’ she asked.
‘Vane and Martin think it is.’
‘Why? What’s the importance?’
‘They believe that whoever managed to bring that off, is capable of something equally significant, even bigger,’ Isaac said.
‘Why do they think that?’
‘They believe that whoever sabotaged the submarine was coerced. They’re profiling the crew, comparing records of visits to the submarine while it was in port,’ Isaac explained.
‘What’s the number of visits got to do with it?’ she asked.
‘I supplied them with a naval submarine expert. He reckoned it would take a significant number of small bombs to take out the boat. He reckoned over a hundred and there is only a handful of personnel who could be responsible. They would have needed someone to take them on board and place them in position.’
‘It must have been one hell of a coercion, then,’ she said.
‘You’re right. We’ve got someone investigating.’
‘Keep me posted,’ said Anne.
‘I’m breaking the rules. I could be subjected to a disciplinary hearing.’ He felt the need to reaffirm his position.
‘For talking to the Prime Minister?’ she queried Isaac’s comment.
‘You’re still the Deputy Prime Minister.’
‘By the time the hearing comes up, I’ll be the Prime Minister, and you’ll celebrate with me and call me Anne.’
‘If that’s a Prime Ministerial command, then Anne it will be.’
‘It’ll be a personal request.’
‘I’ll still call you Anne and I will celebrate with you.’
***
Khalid and Mustafa were proficient in their art. Shafi, strung up on a beam, repeatedly beaten till unconscious and then revived, was six days into his treatment. He had supplied all the information they had wanted after the first three days, but the Master, and especially Haji, wanted certainty.
An admission under severe strain, only to be retracted when the pain ceased, was of limited validity. The Master had heeded Haji’s advice. He wanted a full conversion of Shafi, and then for him to return to the Counter Terrorism Command. However, instead of Shafi telling them about the activities of the Islamic State, he would reverse and tell the Master what the Counter Terrorism Command was up to.
Murder Without Reason (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 5) Page 26