LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘That leaves us with the last member: Miti Lakhani,’ said Jeremy. ‘He struggled to make ends meet whilst in London. It seems that the money was there but his father wanted his son to work and not play and so kept Miti on a tight financial rein. Unfortunately, after five years he went home to Mogadishu with an MPhil and not the expected PhD. It seems he drew the short straw, in that his supervisor was more interested in his consultancy work than tending to his academic flock… Miti’s family owns a thriving import/export business based in Sudan and Somalia. Mario reckons they also own a lot of land there.’

  ‘Now for the scary bit,’ said John looking at his notes. ‘To quote Mario, In a crazier world, the PhD dissertations of Tufayl, Talal and Furud, when put together, could be viewed as the instruction kit for building a financial atomic bomb…’

  Kate, who up to this point had been listening quietly and intently, suddenly sat up and took notice. ‘Explain, please.’

  ‘Rafi knows more about these things than I do,’ said Jeremy. ‘If I read out the dissertation titles, perhaps Rafi can explain? Sheikh Tufayl started his on: Sovereign credit ratings and public sector debt, but amended it after his mid-stage viva to: The impact of energy shortages on the financial markets. Basel Talal’s thesis was on: The identification of business failure and contagion in finance, insurance and banking sectors. He looked mainly at the reasons why these businesses got into financial trouble and the ripple effects that this could cause.’

  Jeremy looked at Rafi. ‘Does that make sense?’

  Rafi nodded.

  ‘Jameel Furud’s thesis,’ Jeremy continued hesitantly, reading carefully from his notes, was on: The risks of financial products in destabilised markets. His thesis considered whether it was possible for a significant number of small items to go below the risk management radar screen, with the consequence that if the markets took a plunge one or more institutions might become insolvent.’

  ‘I agree with Mario,’ said Rafi, ‘If one puts the three theses together – energy shortages, with business failure and large losses in the derivative markets – it makes for a very volatile and potentially dangerous cocktail.’

  Emma and Kate looked concerned. Emma was about to say something when John carried on. ‘Oh… I quite forgot. We spotted that two of the PhDs had dedications. The sheikh’s dissertation was dedicated to Yousif and Basel’s to Khalid. MI5 are trying to find out who they might be,’ said John.

  Wisps of ideas were swirling around inside Rafi’s head. They did not paint a reassuring picture. The bombing was only a distraction. Jameel and his associates were after a far larger target.

  Sensing Rafi was deep in thought, Kate stepped in. ‘Thank you both. That was an extremely useful synopsis! You did well to find Mario. We’re fortunate that he took such a keen interest in the group.’

  ‘All thanks to Jameel’s fling with his girlfriend!’ said Emma.

  Kate ignored her comment. ‘I reckon you’ve found us our ringleaders. I’m uncertain where Miti fits in, though. Thank you both. Any questions?’

  ‘I’ve one,’ said Emma. ‘Where is the vice chancellor now?’

  ‘I have arranged for him to spend a few days enjoying the hospitality of MI5… As we couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut,’ added Jeremy. ‘His PA overheard John and I talking. We let her think that we’d charged him for molesting one of his daughter’s underage friends. You should have seen his face when the squad car arrived to take him away. Serves him right!’

  ‘I have a big problem,’ said Kate. ‘I worry that this is all too circumstantial. Are we going in the right direction, given the starting point of the Bishopsgate bombing? Shouldn’t we be looking at other scenarios? Though I’ll be damned if I know what they might be.’

  John looked at her in a reassuring way. ‘Kate, by all means keep an open mind and if another scenario comes along, use my team downstairs to work on it. But for now, you must run with what you’ve got.’

  ‘Emma and Rafi, keep researching the companies,’ instructed Kate. ‘John, Jeremy and I will focus on the individuals involved. Let’s touch base in an hour’s time.’

  Emma pushed her chair across to Rafi’s desk. ‘Can we go back a step? Is Prima Terra valuable?’

  ‘Yep,’ replied Rafi. ‘Something like £1.5 billion.’

  ‘And the ultimate owner of Prima Terra is the sheikh?’

  ‘Yes, I now believe so.’

  ‘So if the sheikh is willing to jeopardise Prima Terra and as a consequence lose an investment worth many hundreds of millions of pounds… He must be confident of making a great deal of money from whatever he is planning to do.’

  ‘And as I see it,’ said Rafi, ‘The two dodgy companies that Callum found plus the venture capital business are too small to make the sort of returns they’ll need.’

  Emma frowned.

  Rafi could almost see the cogs going round in her mind.

  ‘If one takes their PhD topics and then add in Jameel Furud and Maryam Vynckt’s expertise and financial clout… I’d put my money on the terrorists targeting the derivatives markets,’ said Emma.

  ‘I agree… If they could find a way to make the markets crash, they could then walk away with shed loads of money,’ added Rafi with a large yawn.

  ‘Precisely,’ continued Emma, ‘And there must be enough dishonest international bankers out there who – for a fee – would provide a front for dubious derivatives trading. And it would be practically impossible for the authorities to track down where the profits went – let alone get them back again!’

  ‘OK, so the terrorists will want to give the market a fright,’ started Rafi. He was about to say something more, but was interrupted by a series of large yawns.

  ‘You look dead on your feet,’ said Emma.

  Kate looked across at Rafi. ‘Time for you to take a nap I reckon.’

  Rafi stifled another yawn and nodded.

  ‘Follow me.’ She led him down to the basement cells, with a blanket over his head. When they reached their destination, she picked up a second blanket and a pillow and ushered him into a cell.

  ‘Not five-star accommodation, but at least it’s quiet. I’ll come back and get you in a couple of hours. I’m sorry but I need to lock you in, otherwise the duty policeman might investigate.’ The door swung shut behind her.

  Rafi climbed onto the hard bed and pulled the blankets over him - a few seconds later he was sound asleep.

  The next thing Rafi knew, Kate was standing over him.

  ‘Come on sleepyhead, time to get up.’

  He followed her back to the office. On his desk was a cup of steaming hot black coffee; next to it was a large pile of papers.

  ‘I thought you might like to get your teeth into the accounts of the companies financed by the venture capital business. Let me know if you spot anything out of the ordinary,’ said Kate.

  ‘Will do,’ replied Rafi, picking up the first set of accounts.

  A couple of hours later Rafi was hunched over his desk hard at work – the clock on the wall showed WED 21:15.

  ‘Anyone else found an Estonian connection?’ called out Rafi. ‘The security business has an activity there. It’s in the fine print in their accounts, under currency exchange rates.’

  Emma rifled through a stack of papers. ‘Hold on a minute… Yup… The fish processing business has the same!’

  ‘Good work, you two.’ Kate picked up her phone. ‘Let’s see if David has any Estonian contacts… Good evening David… How do I find a police or security services contact who we can trust in Estonia? There’s some digging that we need done and quickly.’

  ‘That’s a good one,’ came the reply. The speakerphone went quiet for a moment. ‘If you go to my office… You know where the keys to my filing cabinet are, don’t you…? Go to the second drawer down; near the back is a folder marked EU Money Laundering and Illegal Trade Conference. At the front you’ll find a business card stapled to a sheet of paper – Colonel Hendrik Matlik. He is one of their to
p dogs in their Security Police. Give him a ring and say that you’re working with me and that you could do with some help. On first impressions he comes across as very severe, but underneath he’s a huge teddy bear. He’s a real five-star compatriot, very proud of his country joining the EU and is determined to keep organised crime out. Oh yes, and remember to send my love to his daughter, Kristina. She must be at university now… Also ask him to ring you back on a secure line - he’ll appreciate that! Good luck.’

  A couple of minutes later, Kate returned with the business card – “Colonel Hendrik Matlik, Kaitsepolitseiamet”. On the reverse was the English translation – “Estonian Security Police”. ‘There’s a direct line number. Excellent!’

  It was 9.40 p.m. in the UK and 10.40 p.m. in Tallinn. As Kate dialled the number, she wondered whether there would be anyone in the office.

  ‘Halloo, tere õhtust.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you speak English?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Could I please speak to Colonel Hendrik Matlik?’

  ‘Do you know what time it is?’ came the reply.

  ‘Yes, I must apologise, but it’s important that I speak to him.’

  ‘Can I say who is calling?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Kate Adams, I’m a colleague of Chief Superintendent David Pryke, City of London Police.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The phone went silent. The wait seemed to go on for ages. Then a deep voice came on the line.

  ‘Hello, Matlik here.’

  ‘Good evening,’ said Kate, ‘My boss, David Pryke, suggested I called you as he believes you might be able to help us. Oh, and he sends his kind regards to Kristina.’

  ‘Is it essential that I should help… Now?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ replied Kate. ‘We’re investigating the Bishopsgate police station bombing and a follow-up terrorist attack.’

  ‘I read of that atrocity; please pass my condolences to David,’ said the colonel.

  ‘Could you ring me back on a secure line?’ requested Kate.

  There was a loud chuckle from the other end of the phone, which turned into a laugh. ‘I’m going to like working with you.’

  Kate looked blankly at the phone and wondered how David knew her comment would tickle the colonel’s sense of humour.

  ‘No need to worry about the phone line. As one of the bosses of the KAPO my line is secure and before you were put through my office traced your call back to Wood Street police station. Isn’t technology wonderful? How can I be of assistance?’

  Kate told the colonel of her pressing need for information on two UK companies with operations in Tallinn and gave him the name and Tallinn address of a former director, Pinja Koit. ‘We sense time is against us. At the moment we’ve identified a network of companies that seem to be involved.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do to help and get back to you first thing in the morning. If you want to reach me, I’ll be on the number you phoned.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Kate, hanging up.

  ‘While you were on the other line, the commissioner phoned,’ said Emma. ‘John’s now formally on our team. He said we could do with his experience and low cunning.’

  John smiled and nodded. ‘Pleased to help.’

  ‘And we’ve also co-opted Peter Ashby from Traffic. He’s to be our gofer.’

  The phone rang – it was reception for Jeremy. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘I’ll be down straight away.’

  He was soon back, clutching bags filled with steaming cups of coffee and delicious-looking Italian cakes. ‘With Luigi’s compliments,’ he smiled as he passed the coffee around.

  Emma looked across at Jeremy. ‘But we only had our supper a few hours ago. When will your obsession with food calm down?’

  ‘This is the afters! Who was it that said: An army marches on its stomach?’

  ‘Napoleon?’ ventured Emma, pleased to have answered before Kate.

  ‘Precisely. I asked Luigi to prepare us something to keep us going, in case we begin to flag. It’s going to be a very long night. And you try living off crap for two months and see if you can keep away from good food.’

  ‘Point taken,’ said Kate. ‘Now we have Rafi back with us, it would be a good moment to pull together all we’ve been doing over the past four or five hours, so that we can keep an eye on the big picture and make sure we aren’t going off on a wild goose chase. OK, who wants to start?’

  ‘I will,’ said John. ‘My team downstairs has been helping me with the terrorists’ public sector services businesses. They are investigating exactly what they do and who they employ. Thankfully, as incorporated limited partnerships, their businesses have to be registered at Companies House.’John paused and looked at his notes. ‘The scale of these activities is downright impressive or, from our perspective, very scary! Their empire comprises numerous operations: security for police cells -and includes Paddington Green. They also operate prisons, schools and hospitals. They have a number of soft facilities management contracts for the Home Office and the Foreign Office. And through a spider’s web of connected limited partnerships they employ over 200,000 people!’

  ‘Wow, that is impressive.’ exclaimed Kate. ‘What are their finances like?’

  ‘They’re sailing very close to the wind. They’ve got massive debts, and carry unlimited liability if things go wrong,’ replied John.

  ‘So if we take Jeremy’s line that the terrorists will be in destruction mode, this public sector business of theirs is a house of cards?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Precisely,’ said John. ‘And it wouldn’t be difficult to make it collapse.’

  ‘And if it did go bust?’ asked Kate.

  ‘It would leave one hell of a mess across the public sector!’John took a slurp of his coffee. ‘My team has also come up with another angle. With the help of Companies House we’ve drawn up a list of all the people who sit on the management boards of these limited liability partnerships. Several of the names are very interesting. There are a couple of politicians and some professional advisers to Government departments! I have given Jeremy’s colleagues the full list of names to see what they can make of it.’

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot to say,’ added John. ‘We had a look at where else they operate. One of their businesses provides the guards to the garage at Bishopsgate police station! MI5 has traced their security man, who was away from his post at the time of the bombing. He’s now on holiday in Spain and, rumour has it, he’s buying a villa out there!

  ‘I’ve passed our preliminary findings to the commissioner and he’s briefing all his opposite numbers that their security may be compromised and that they have to keep this under wraps. So far he hasn’t spoken to the Government departments, given the number of politicians and special advisers that seem to be on the terrorists’ payroll, innocently or otherwise.’

  The atmosphere in the room had perceivably cooled. Kate finally broke the silence. ‘Who would like to go next?’

  ‘MI5 has found another link between Jameel Furud and Basel Talal,’ said Jeremy. They are trustees of a charity, which works with a number of high profile companies, and sponsors students undertaking voluntary work in Africa. It’s not a big enterprise. MI5 are looking into how the airline tickets are booked and where the students have worked.’

  ‘My team has also been looking into their fish processing business,’ continued John. ‘It’s a substantial business and a nicely profitable one at that. It operates a fleet of trawlers out of the UK and Estonia, which gives them a base close to the old Soviet Bloc.’

  Kate looked thoughtfully at John. ‘Their fishing boats could provide a means of moving things and people in and out of the UK… We should locate all of their trawlers…’

  ‘We are already on to it,’ said John. ‘On the internet there are lists of EU trawlers. The information includes lots of details on each vessel and who owns them – shown by port…’

  ‘Can I make an observation?�
� interrupted Rafi. ‘I’m thinking practicalities. We’re talking in terms of trawlers being used to get people in and out of the UK. I agree with their usefulness for getting things in, but I’ve a problem with using them for an exit… Wouldn’t they be too slow?’

  ‘I agree,’ said John. ‘How about they use them just to get the terrorists out of UK territorial waters? Thereafter, I personally would want something much faster to whisk me away.’

  ‘That’s a good point John; make sure that we pick it up when we discuss the terrorists’ exit strategy in more detail.’ Kate paused. ‘Where have we got to on the property front?’

  ‘Emma and I were wondering whether they might use one or more of their properties to support potential terrorist attacks,’ said Rafi. ‘Just imagine how much easier it would be to attack something from a secure, nearby property over which you have complete control. And if one takes PREH’s full name – Prime Real Estate Holdings – literally, their portfolio should comprise property investments of institutional quality. Ergo, the properties should be in prime locations. The list of property addresses from the company’s mortgage register runs to three pages and, among those, I’ve identified four properties which look distinctly out of place…’ Rafi studied his scribbled notes. ‘A retail park on the outskirts of Peterhead and three industrial estates in: Prestwick, North Walsham and Hartlepool. I’ve given Emma the addresses. She’s seeing whether they’re near any potential targets.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ enquired John. ‘Surely that’s a bit over the top. These days a plain van suffices for most purposes, so who needs properties?’

  Emma raised her head from the screen of her PC; her face was sombre. ‘What if one of the properties overlooked a nuclear power station – would that change your view?’

  ‘Oh shit, yes!’ replied John.