‘How are you getting on?’ enquired Rafi.
‘We’ve tracked down Matthew and my colleagues are working on Bob‘s whereabouts as we speak.’
The fifth member of the team needed to be able to think out of the box and have a clear and incisive mind. A thought came to him… His sister fitted the criteria perfectly. He scribbled a note for Jeremy. ‘Here’s the fifth name.’
Jeremy looked at it. ‘Saara Khan of Birmingham University. Ah, your little sister; our background research shows her to be an impressive academic and just as unassuming as you are! She’s in Birmingham… Do you think that she would prefer a smart squad car or a helicopter?’
‘Which do you think would be the faster?’
‘Let me make a call.’ A few minutes later Jeremy replaced the phone. ‘They have arranged a car with a couple of motorbike outriders to keep the road in front clear.’
Jeremy then spoke to his colleagues back at MI5.
‘Rafi, we’ve traced the other four: Donald Hollingsworth and wife are on their way to Dorset, where they have a cottage. We’ve sent a helicopter down in the direction of the A303 and have the traffic police between here and Yeovil looking out for their car. John has left to collect Bob Tieson; he is working late at his office in the Docklands. I’m collecting Alex Lynton from the theatre – I hope the performance hasn’t started! And last but not least, Matthew Wilson is flying into Heathrow. He’s been working in Frankfurt. I’ve arranged for him to be met by a colleague and taken through Immigration and Customs the VIP way.’
‘Excellent,’ said Rafi with a smile.
Jeremy called across to Kate. ‘Do we have any cars left?’
‘Of course, but heaven only knows where,’ came the reply. ‘If you go down to reception I’ll get you one.’
‘Thanks.’
Rafi sat there, thinking. Would this team of five plus Aidan have sufficient gravitas to stand up to the new Chancellor of the Exchequer? He was a serious politician, but with only a few months’ experience of the job it was difficult to predict whether he had become influenced by the highly PR conscious Treasury team. And how would he react when the pressure was really on? Would he understand the seriousness of the huge risks facing the country, or opt for the easier strategy of procrastinating?
‘Where have we got to on the London property front?’ asked Kate.
‘I’ve been trying to find out the address of the London or South of England property that the fish processing business owns,’ replied Emma. ‘I’ve spoken to Land Registry again. Sadly, their system isn’t set up for this type of general enquiry. I spoke to Justin again and he’s been trawling through their property databases. He says that there are too many permutations, even if you try to narrow down the search criteria, and that it’s likely the deal would have been done subject to a confidentiality clause, so wouldn’t even be on the databases!’
‘Emma,’ Kate called across to her, ‘the immigration officer, Roger Harewood – the man who keeps the notebooks - is en route back from the West coast of the United States. Could you find the airline and flight number? There can’t be many long haul planes from the USA landing at Manchester Airport early tomorrow morning. Then arrange for us to speak to him, in case he can remember something.’
‘I’ll get straight on to it.’
There was a momentary lull. Rafi leant back in his chair. What else could he be doing on the property front? What seemed like moments later, but was in fact half an hour, he was woken by Kate, standing over him and calling his name.
Rafi looked up into her hazel eyes. A sight to lift the spirits, he thought to himself.
‘I thought a short power nap would do you good. Here’s a cup of coffee. You’ll need it… The first two members of your economics team should be here in five minutes,’ said Kate.
Jeremy and John arrived within moments of each other. They had two very angry individuals with them, and took Bob Tieson and Alex Lynton straight up to the fourth floor interview room.
‘I think that you had better placate your two friends,’ said John as he walked into the office. ‘Even though we told them otherwise, they still think they’ve been arrested. Bob definitely didn’t want to come. I had to threaten him with handcuffs. I told him he could speak to his lawyer, if he wanted, when he got here.’
Jeremy came off his mobile phone. ‘Saara is making excellent progress down the M1 and Matthew has landed at Heathrow where his reception committee is waiting for him on the tarmac. They should both be here within the hour, hopefully sooner. We caught up with Donald on the A303. His helicopter is en route to the rugby pitch at the Honourable Artillery Company, just around the corner.’
‘You better go and greet your two irritable friends. Jeremy no doubt has arranged for fresh coffee and cream cakes as a peace offering… And Aidan is on his way – says he’s finished his filing!’ said Kate.
Alex and Bob were sitting in silence awaiting their fate.
Rafi walked in with Kate and Aidan following close behind him. He realised that he probably looked like someone who had been dragged through a hedge backwards and sensed that they feared the worst – being implicated as one of his friends. Rafi sat down opposite the two irate individuals, who eyed him suspiciously. Kate sat to his left and Aidan to his right.
Kate started the conversation. ‘We will shortly be joined by Donald Hollingsworth, Matthew Wilson and a fifth person who is winging her way down the M1 as we speak. You know Rafi and Aidan Gilchrist? Good. No doubt you want to know why we’ve hauled you in here.’
Kate smiled. ‘You are not in any trouble. Rafi is innocent. He was setup and has been helping us unravel a terrorist plot. It’s probably simplest if I get him to explain what is going on and how you can help us.’
Rafi observed the two of them: Alex Lynton, the economist, sat uneasily, whilst Bob Tieson looked as if the father of all black clouds was hovering over his head. Rafi guessed he still had a lot of work to do on the IPO he was launching in a few days’ time and didn’t appreciate being dragged away from his office, even at this hour of the evening.
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ said Rafi in a calm and collected tone, ‘In ten minutes’ time a home office minister, the Defence Secretary, and the heads of MI5 and the armed forces are meeting with the commissioner two floors up. Like you, they have been asked in for a briefing, and like you, have dropped whatever they were doing… We have uncovered a terrorist plot to attack a number of key energy and nuclear facilities in the UK. They are also planning to trigger havoc in the financial markets, where they have built up massive derivative positions. To cut a long story short, we believe the terrorist attacks will knock market sentiment so severely that the stock market will fall dramatically. And when the terrorists close their derivative positions, this will make the markets and the financial system crash.’ Rafi paused and then went on. ‘Put simply, we have to stop the markets gaining any major downward momentum.’
The silence was interrupted by Bob. ‘What do you want us to do? The impossible? Or should we man the printing presses, print money out of thin air and then wave our magic wands?’
‘Not quite,’ Rafi replied. ‘What we need is a plan that can be put in place to calm the markets.’
‘Boy, that would be pulling a rabbit and a half out of a hat,’ said Alex.
Aidan cut in. ‘Rafi has a plan, which we believe you and your colleagues can make a reality. We believe there is the possibility to create listed Government property vehicles – REITs – and use share issues to mop up the liabilities that the Government may face, and to finance gilts buy-backs.’
At that moment a flustered Donald Hollingsworth appeared through the door. Rafi got up and walked over to greet him.
‘My God, Rafi, you look terrible!’
‘Yes, thank you Donald. Sorry to have ruined your weekend away. Let me introduce you to the other members of the team who beat you here. In the next fifteen minutes you’ll be joined by Matthew Wilson – who I believe you kn
ow – and by a Dr Saara Khan, who you won’t. Aidan will brief you.’
Aidan stood up. ‘In straightforward terms, gentlemen, your mission, should you wish to accept it, is to come up with a credible strategy that the Bank of England and Treasury can adopt to avert a financial meltdown. I will bring you up to speed with the minutiae as soon as the others arrive. In a moment Detective Constable Emma Jessop will join us and help us turn this room into our office. And, I understand some coffee is on its way.’
Rafi could sense that they were hooked – their body language had visibly relaxed and there was determination in their eyes.
‘If you’ll excuse us, Kate and I have a number of things to attend to. Thank you for helping,’ said Rafi. ‘And so far as the attacks are concerned, there is a team upstairs planning how the SAS can neutralise them.’
There was a quiet knock on the office door. Standing outside was Rafi’s sister. On catching a glimpse of him, Saara broke into a run. ‘I’ve been so worried.’
‘Thanks sis. Me too! Meet Kate, with whom I’m working.’
‘You’re not under arrest?’
‘No,’ replied Kate, ‘your brother is working with us – he’s a godsend.’
Rafi looked at his little sister. She smiled a smile that he would not forget in a long time – its intensity was wonderful. ‘I’m sorry to drag you away from home, but we need someone with a clear, logical mind who can act as an independent thinker amongst a team of financial experts.’
‘But finance is a blank in my book.’
‘Yes, but you know how to structure a hypothesis and set up tests to prove or disprove it. Come and get a cup of coffee and let me introduce you to the team,’ said Rafi.
They entered the interview room; it was buzzing and exuded a sense of teamwork and urgency. The conversation paused and Rafi introduced his sister to Aidan’s team. ‘Saara is here to be your devil’s advocate. Forgive her if she asks any naive questions on the finance front; I promise you she’ll be worth her weight in gold by the time you’ve finished. Aidan here will explain what’s going on.’
Bob enquired, ‘What are the chances of nipping back to the office to collect some papers and download some files?’
‘No problem,’ said Kate. ‘We’ll assign you Constable Peter Ashby to act as your chauffeur. Is the gravity of the position understood? No one outside this building other than MI5 and the SAS have a clue what’s going on. Absolutely no talking to anyone! Got that?’
‘Of course,’ replied Bob.
‘When Bob gets back could I borrow Constable Ashby?’ asked Alex.
‘Me too,’ said Matthew.
‘Emma will make the arrangements for you.’
‘Aidan, whilst the others are out could you bring Donald and Saara up to speed, please?’ asked Rafi.
‘Will do.’
Rafi left to rejoin Kate. He re-entered the office that had become his home.
She looked across at him. ‘You look bloody awful,’ she said with a soft smile.
‘You don’t look too good yourself,’ Rafi added gently. ‘Where do we go from here?’
‘Time to ring Rick Feldon in Manchester.’
After a long wait Kate was finally put through to a tired sounding Rick Feldon.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, but it is a bit busy here. Wesson is one sandwich short of a picnic and proving to be highly incommunicative. Anyway… When our word search on the computer files came up with nothing, I spoke to the MI5 suits and they have gone through the secretaries’ paper files. The good news is they have just found the letter. No wonder the word search revealed zilch – the letter was never saved on the computer. It’s being faxed to you as we speak. It gives you two more properties!’
Kate smiled. ‘Excellent work Rick; it’s just what we needed. Thanks.’
Rafi sat on the edge of his chair; he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the fax.
‘Oh, by the way, Rick, we think that we’re missing one more property,’ said Kate. ‘One in the South East or London area. It might be worth trying to chat to your man about it.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Rick, ‘And sorry again for not finding the letter sooner.’
‘We’ve got it now – that’s what matters.’
Moments later the fax arrived. Rafi read it. It was very straightforward. It confirmed that the value of two properties exceeded their book cost of £7.4 million. Rafi looked at the addresses: development land at Park Avenue, Wasdale Road, Gosforth, and Marfleet Lane, Kingston-upon-Hull.
Rafi went back to his desk and pulled up Google Maps on the screen. He typed in ‘Gosforth’ and was given the option of either Gosforth NE3 or Gosforth CA20. Rafi clicked on the CA20 link and a large scale map appeared on the screen. With a couple of mouse clicks, Rafi reduced the scale so that he could scan the surrounding area. Oh hell! He recognised the location; it was close to Sellafield nuclear reprocessing plant.
‘Kate,’ he called across, ‘do you have a spare moment?’ He showed her the map. ‘We have found another location. The terrorists have a property within a mile or so of Sellafield,’
‘Oh shit!’ exclaimed Kate. ‘This isn’t what we wanted.’
‘But at least we now know where to look,’ added John.
Rafi typed in the address of the Hull property and looked at the map.
Kate, standing over his shoulder, said, ‘Go east a bit. Thought so – it’s just down the road from Easington, where there is a gas terminal and storage facility… And it’s vast!.’ She looked pleased. ‘So, by my calculations, seven targets found… Three still to track down! As long as none of the missing three is a nuclear installation, I reckon we’re in with a chance.’
‘Or seven down and one to go, if we can get confirmation that the fifth missile launcher is on board Golden Sundancer. That would leave only one more to find,’ said Rafi apprehensively.
‘Let’s hope you are right,’ Kate handed Rafi a pile of papers. ‘Could you help me with a bit of photocopying… ? There’s no one else to ask! I’m putting together corroborating evidence to support what we believe is going on - in case we get a frosty reception upstairs.’
Upstairs, Giles and David were preparing for the 8 o’clock meeting.
Air Chief Marshal Sir Nigel Hawser and the head of MI5, Ewan Thorn, were booked to come; however, it was proving more difficult to get the Government ministers to the meeting without telling them why.
Giles had phoned the Defence Secretary. He introduced himself and immediately cut to the chase. ‘I’ve arranged a meeting for 8 o’clock this evening. It is of vital importance; can you attend please?’
‘What’s it about?’ answered a frosty voice. ‘I have a social engagement - Covent Garden with the wife. The tickets are like gold dust.’
‘I can’t talk over the phone, but we would value your input alongside that of the head of the armed forces and the head of MI5.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll be there.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Giles gave the minister the details of the venue and put the phone down. He looked relieved; the Defence Secretary, though new to the department, was a level-headed man and a renowned stickler for the minutiae. Once brought on side, he would be an invaluable asset to the team.
His next phone call, Giles mused, was likely to be interesting. The stand-in Home Secretary was a different ball game altogether. He phoned the Home Office, and was put through to the minister’s personal assistant.
‘The minister is in a strategy meeting and has left instructions not to be disturbed.’
‘This is extremely important; I would have spoken to the Home Secretary but he’s out of the country,’ said Giles.
‘Let me have a word with the minister,’ replied the secretary.
What seemed like ages later, the minister’s voice came on the phone. He sounded peeved.
‘What, may I ask, is the purpose of this call?’ he asked bluntly.
‘When we met at the Bishopsgate bomb location you said you wo
uld be available to help 24/7. I have arranged a meeting for 8 o’clock this evening; it is of vital importance. Can you attend please?’
‘I’m sorry but I’m busy. I could send my assistant, or we could have the meeting tomorrow morning, say, at 11 a.m.?’ replied the minister.
‘Sir, under normal circumstances I would have asked the Home Secretary,’ said Giles politely, hoping the minister would get the point that the meeting was crucial.
‘If I am to consider rearranging my diary, I’d have to know why it’s so important that I attend this meeting. I’m booked to give a keynote speech. I’m spearheading the launch of our new data handling unit on immigration statistics. The press will be there. I have a first class speech and it has already been distributed for tomorrow’s papers… Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline your offer.’
‘Sir, this is sufficiently sensitive that I can’t tell you about it until we meet, but it is of utmost importance.’
‘No. I’ve made my mind up; you can have my assistant or you can see me at my office tomorrow morning,’ added the minister uncompromisingly.
Giles raised his eyebrows, perplexed. ‘But it is important.’
The minister wasn’t pleased. ‘Damn it! You won’t be getting me to your meeting at this short notice. Do you know who you are speaking to? My press conference is far too important an opportunity to miss, particularly as our newly formatted statistics look excellent. Good evening to you.’ The phone line went dead.
The commissioner did not rise to the provocation; it was as if he was dealing with a petulant teenager. He dialled the 10 Downing Street hotline, got straight through to the PM’s office and asked to speak to the Prime Minister regarding the recent bombing. Within a minute the PM came on the phone.
‘How may I help you?’
‘Prime Minister, we have a situation developing. It would be helpful if we had your or the Home Secretary’s input, alongside that of the Defence Secretary, the head of the armed forces and the head of MI5. I have spoken to the minister covering for the Home Secretary and have been informed that his prior engagement means he’s unavailable. I was hoping…’
LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge Page 18