by Conrad Jones
Alec shrugged the comment off, and opened the door to the conference room with his swipe card. Only officers with security clearance could gain access. Inside was an unusual mix of military uniforms, police top brass, and Secret Service personnel. Chief Carlton was talking to the joint taskforce personnel, and the divisional Commander. He saw them enter and signalled them to come over, pointing to two empty seats next to him.
“We`re just along for the ride today,” the Chief smiled at Alec as they sat down. He blanked DI Naylor completely, and couldn’t hide the look of contempt on his face. “The Agency director has got the bit between his teeth about something, let`s hope it`s important.”
“Any whispers from the spooks?” Alec asked, referring to the intelligence agencies.
“They have some snippets of information, but nothing that they want to divulge. The want to hold on to it for themselves, so I`m not holding my breath that we`re going to hear anything spectacular,” the Chief said sarcastically.
“I can`t wait,” Will grinned as he looked around the room. He had a low tolerance level for these formal gatherings.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Intelligence Agencies` director called out over the buzz of voices. “We are ready to begin.”
The general din died away as the attendees took their seats. The picture of the wreckage from the Mosque bombing appeared on the main screen. Six smaller screens displayed more of the crime scene images, taken in the aftermath of the atrocity.
“I`m sure that you`re all familiar with the crime scene pictures however I`d like to recap the findings as they stand at the moment.” The director glanced around the meeting room to gauge the mood of his captive audience. Careers could be ruined by boring the pants off everyone at the joint department briefings. “The device was a very sophisticated fertiliser bomb, placed into a stolen vehicle, which had been customised to purpose.”
The screen changed to a close up picture of the wrecked van`s interior. Two pictures, taken from different angles, flicked on, and then moved to the smaller screens.
“The pictures show that steel plates had been welded into the interior of the vehicle, one against the driver`s side here, and one to the floor here, directing the blast toward the front of the Mosque here.”
The director removed his blue suit jacket, and pushed his shirtsleeves off his wrists as he pointed to the parts of the picture that he was referring to. The vehicle chassis beneath the plates was virtually intact; the rest of it shredded into metal ribbons. Welding plates into a car bomb allowed the bombers to `aim` the shrapnel at a specific area to maximise the damage.
“Witness statements indicate that the majority of the attendees had left the building before the device was detonated,” the director paused for effect. “First impressions are that the bombers’ timing was off and they missed the bulk of the crowd. Originally we thought the four fatalities were unfortunate victims of a terrorist attack which was aimed at the Mosque itself.”
“This sounds like there is a `but` coming,” Alec whispered to Will.
“Maybe he`s not as stupid as I think he is,” Will replied. Chief Carlton smirked at the comment, although he didn’t want to acknowledge that he found the young detective`s comment amusing.
“After thorough investigation we discovered some anomalies, which may shine a different light on things,” the director switched the picture on the main screen. The image of two unrecognisable corpses appeared. “The two victims here are Mr and Mrs Amir Patel. They took the full force of the blast.”
The image changed again, three burnt out tractor units appeared. “This picture was taken by Amir Patel`s insurance company, two weeks before his untimely death. The lorries were deliberately set on fire, at first the local police force were open minded, considering both arson, and insurance fraud.”
The picture changed again, this time the image of Mina Patel appeared. She was dressed in traditional Pakistani wedding attire, her eyes were dark and beautiful, and her smile was enchanting. It was a stark contrast to the crime scene pictures of her broken body.
“A quick look at the finances of Patel`s haulage company showed that the business is in good shape, very good shape, and so fraud was ruled out. Further investigation following the bombing led the team to interview the mother of Mina Patel. She revealed that in the weeks running up to the bombing, Mina was worried about Amir`s behaviour. She said that he had been secretive lately, and during one domestic argument he told Mina that he was being blackmailed.”
Alec raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “The plot thickens, why don’t we know this?” He whispered.
“We do, Guv.”
“I know we do, Will. What do they think we have been doing for the last three days?”
“Sharpening our pencils, and scribbling in our little notebooks, like good coppers are supposed to do,” Will whispered sarcastically. The chief turned away pretending that he wasn’t smiling.
“With the help of our colleagues in MI6, we explored the right wing extremist theory for the bombing, and we turned up nothing irregular. We have undercover operatives in most of the far right organisations. All the usual suspects can account for their whereabouts. So we have to look for another motive for the bomb, and we started to look at the four victims as possible targets for the attack, not the Mosque.” The director shrugged his shoulders.
“Apart from the lack of an extremist motive, do you have anything else to indicate the Patels were the target?” Chief Carlton asked.
“We have Patel`s laptop. It`s being analysed as we speak. That may reveal something concrete that we can work on. What we do have though is this,” the director changed the images again. The image of a dead Asian teenager appeared on the screen.
“This is Ali Rasim, known to his friends as Rozzo. Rasim was a teenager, shot dead near the city centre shortly after the bomb. We believe he was a lookout, a drug runner for a local dealer. Following an anonymous phone call, when his body was found, there was a note stuck to his forehead. The dealer that he worked for is one, Abdul Salim. He`s been reported as missing by his father.”
The screen changed again, and a close up of the note appeared. The message had been scrawled in biro, and then stuck to the dead teenager`s head with chewing gum.
`THIS SCUMBAG WORKED FOR MALIK SHAH AND ASHWAN PINDAR. IF YOU DONT TAKE THEM OFF THE STREETS, THEN WE WILL`
“Malik Shah and Ashwan Pindar are known to us. They are business associates of the Patels. We have been investigating them and their businesses for some time, but on the surface, they are clean as a whistle. We have whispers of information that they finance organised crime, but we can`t pin anything on them. Our colleagues at MI6 have been tracking them for some time too.” The director gestured to his representative from the intelligence service. The MI5 man was dressed in a blue tailored suit, with a blue silk tie to match. His silver hair was gelled back from his face. Agent Spence coughed before speaking.
“Assuming the Patels were the target, and that their links with Malik Shah were the motive for the attack, then we need to share our information on him with you.”
“Well I never, information sharing, Guv, what`s all that about?”
“It`s the future.”
“Mind blowing, wish I`d have thought of it before.”
“Shut up, Will, this is getting interesting.”
“We have two lines of enquiry open on Malik Shah at present,” he began. “We believe that he finances the shipment of reactivated weapons from Pakistan into Europe, the African continent and the United Kingdom. We also believe that he imports heroin and crack cocaine, using some of the more unfortunate members of the Asian community as human mules.” The agent left the sentence hanging, not wanting to go into too much detail at this point. MI5 were reluctant to share all their information with the uniformed police divisions. “We believe that if you concentrate your investigations on Shah`s local drug activities, then you will stumble across his enemies.”
“Stumble?”
&
nbsp; “Shut up, Will.”
“Fucking stumble?” Will muttered under his breath. “So far they have told us nothing that we don’t already know, and we might stumble across the bombers?”
“How far have your enquiries into Shah progressed?” The Chief prompted. He tapped his index finger on the desk irritated. The flippant comment had annoyed him too. MI5 rarely shared all their intelligence with the other departments, much to the detriment of good working relationships between the agencies. Their arrogance was infuriating the police officers in the room.
“They`re still in their early stages,” the agent straightened his tie uncomfortably. He didn’t make eye contact with the Chief.
“You mean you`ve got Jack Shit, or you`re waist deep in this already, and you don’t want a police investigation to interfere in your operation,” Will said tactfully.
Agent Spence turned angrily toward the young Detective. There was a mixture of anger and amusement on the faces around the room. Will Naylor had said aloud what most of the senior detectives in the room were thinking.
“I beg your pardon?” The agent sneered.
Alec Ramsey tapped his DI on the wrist, a signal to keep quiet for the moment.
“I think my DI is questioning your motives, Agent Spence,” Alec raised his eyebrows as he spoke. “It`s most unusual for you to call a joint department meeting, and then tell us which direction we should be steering our investigations.”
“We are sharing information, that`s all.”
“You have told us nothing that we don’t already know. Why steer us toward Malik Shah`s drug enterprise?” Alec pushed the point. He had been around to many years to believe that MI5 were cooperating and sharing information, without an ulterior motive.
Agent Spence looked uncomfortable. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He looked to his director for help. None was forthcoming at this point.
“As Director Leigh alluded to earlier, on the surface, Shah is squeaky clean. He covers his tracks very well indeed,” the agent reddened as he spoke. He glared at Alec. There was no love lost between Superintendent Ramsey and the intelligence agencies, he couldn’t stand their bullshit. Alec called a spade a spade, MI5 would call it a shovel, a gardening tool or a cultivating implement, whatever suited them at the time. Experience gleaned during previous operations taught Alec that Agent Spence was neck deep in manure every time he opened his mouth.
“Like I said, you`ve got nothing, or you`re covering something up,” Will sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Let`s not waste time here, have you got anything concrete to link Shah with the bombing?”
“We think that he has enough enemies to constitute him being a legitimate target,” the director interrupted. “Ashwan Pindar, Malik Shah, Amir Patel, and half a dozen others are all linked by a group of limited companies.”
“Why blow up the Patels?” Alec shrugged. The theory was identical to his, but he was fishing. “Why not go straight for Malik Shah?”
“We don’t know the answer to that yet.”
“What do you know, Director?” Alec pressed the issue. Something was missing. He pointed to the screen, and the picture of the dead teenager. “This looks more like a turf war, drug dealers flexing their muscles, in which case the investigation should stay with us.”
The Police Chief nodded in agreement, but he didn’t realise that the Superintendent was trying to provoke a response from Agent Spence. If MI5 had an ongoing operation, the last thing they would want was a uniformed division and police detectives trampling all over it. If there was an MI5 operation going on, then Alec wanted to know about it.
The director sighed. He had anticipated detailed scrutiny from Alec, his reputation as a good detective was legendary. The director picked up a silver camera case and placed it on the table. He undid the metal clasps and opened it, to reveal a Mac 10 machinegun. “This is a reactivated Mac 10, one of a cache of twenty that we recovered from an address on the Bullring estate, Netherley, near to the outskirts of the city. The address was subject to a raid by your drugs squad, and as well as the weapons, a substantial quantity of crack cocaine was seized.”
“We`re aware of the raid, Director. Why would you be interested in that?” Alec asked.
The weapon passed around the table until it reached Alec. Alec was aware that drugs and weapons had been recovered by the drugs squad, however MI5`s interest worried him. He held the weapon like it was a baby, gently testing the weight and the balance. He slid the magazine out of the pistol and then clicked it back into its place. It clicked as it locked. Alec looked down the barrel, inspecting the rifling grooves. He had spent five years in armed response units, and he knew weapons inside out and back to front.
“This has been reactivated by a butcher. It`s more likely to jam, or blow your hand off, than it is to fire,” Alec shook his head. There was more to reactivating an automatic weapon than meets the eye. “This is definitely a foreign import. What is your intelligence telling you about these weapons?” Alec looked at the director.
“We think that he`s purchasing replicas, and deactivated weapons from the USA, and Russia, and then shipping them to sweatshops in Pakistan for reactivation. We know he`s selling them in the Middle East, Africa, Spain, and here, but we can`t catch him at it, yet.”
The room fell quiet for a moment. Arms dealing is a risky business at the best of times, but if Malik Shah was selling reactivated weapons as new, then he would be crossing some very dangerous people.
“What are your thoughts?” Agent Spence threw the question open to the room. He was basking in the glory of the moment. A terrorist attack generally summoned the presence of the most experienced investigators in the service of the realm, but this time, it was he, that held centre stage, for the time being. He was going to milk it for all its worth.
“If Malik Shah is selling weapons like this, then he will be making plenty of enemies,” Alec said, handing the weapon to Will. “Sooner or later, this weapon will jam, and the buyers will be looking for their money back.”
Agent Spence felt smug as he looked around the room, inviting comments. What he didn’t realise were the wider ramifications of the issue. It was becoming clear that MI5 knew more about the Patels than was originally thought. Chief Carlton looked at Alec, and his face had darkened. He looked like thunder was about to erupt from his ears.
“I think we`re being fed a line,” Alec looked up from the weapon and stared at the MI5 man`s face. “How long have you been following these reactivated weapons?”
Agent Spence fiddled with his tie nervously. He ran his hand across his chin, thinking of the correct words to use as an acceptable reply. “That`s classified information and not for general release at the moment.”
“What?” Chief Carlton was flabbergasted. “I thought this was a multijurisdictional investigation?”
Agent Spence sneered and shook his head. He looked at the uniformed police officer as if he were from a different planet. “We have no problem sharing relevant information with you, providing it is not of a confidential nature, or if it could endanger any ongoing investigations.”
“They have been following the weapons from day one, Chief Carlton,” Alec interrupted. “The sale of unreliable, positively dangerous weapons, to criminals across the globe is not something MI5 would want to discourage.” He tossed the Mac 10 across the table toward Agent Spence, and it clattered across the polished wood veneer before stopping with a loud clunk against a water jug. “Why would you want to stop the sale of unreliable weapons? I`d be surprised if they`re not actively encouraging them.”
“Have you got anything solid to link Malik Shah to the sale of these weapons?” Chief Carlton asked calmly. His voice belied the anger inside him.
Agent Spence rolled his eyes skyward and let out a loud sigh. The police officers were not about to be fobbed off with half the truth. The director stood up and walked a few paces toward the wall before turning to speak.
“We had an informer in the witness protection sc
heme, about two years ago. He was arrested by customs officers, driving an articulated lorry onto a ferry sailing from Rotterdam to Hull.”
“You had an informer?” Alec prompted.
“Yes, he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Is this like, give us a clue? We ask questions and you give us one word answers until we guess the truth?” Will chirped in.
Agent Spence coughed and looked into Alec`s steely blue eyes, ignoring the comment from Will.
“The lorry was loaded with crates of coffee grounds, and customs searched several of them. They impounded it when crack cocaine was discovered. An initial search of one of the crates uncovered ammunition, and the resulting searches found twenty kilos of crack, and eighteen Mac 10`s.”
“The driver turned informer in return for what?” Alec pushed.
“Protection and a lighter sentence. He was terrified that his employers would kill him and his family,” Spence continued. “The driver was Asian, Pakistani origin, and he fingered Malik Shah as the brains behind the operation.”
“So what happened?” Will asked.
“We lost him.”
“How did you lose him?” Alec looked at Will. They swapped glances and then glared at the intelligence agent.
“We took his wife and two children into protective custody, and placed them into the witness programme. They were labelled Blogs 18 and 19. Two weeks into the programme the parents of Blogs 18, and the parents of Blogs 19 disappeared. Their homes were searched and we came up with nothing, two days later Blog 18 and his family disappeared. We haven`t been able to trace them since.”
“How could they disappear?” Alec asked frowning. He knew that Blogs were kept under strict supervision. They were virtually prisoners. “You said they were in custody.”
“Our operation was compromised,” Agent Spence folded his arms and sat back in his chair.
“Compromised?”
“Yes, compromised.”
“Would you like to elaborate on that, or do we have to speculate how you can lose a witness, his wife, his kids and his extended family.”