The captain glanced across at his charts. ‘Probably around 14:00 hours - later if the weather gets bad.’
Sergy shifted his eyes across at Basel. ‘The Sheikh will be there to thank us – personally?’
‘Yes, of course and Jameel Furud will be there also.’ Basel sensed that Sergy was uneasy. ‘You did well at Cruden Bay.’
‘But it was Dakka who hit the jack pot.’
‘Cruden Bay was simply brilliant… And you are now rich beyond your dreams,’ said Basel soothingly. ‘What are you going to do with your money?’
‘I am my own keeper. My family were all killed by the Russians… I hope to buy a big olive grove and find a nice woman.’
Basel smiled. ‘For someone with so much money - you don’t look very happy?’
‘Yes it is true, I feel sad… I’d be a €1 million richer if the bastard hadn’t sold us dud mortars… The damn shells wouldn’t go off - St Fergus should have been destroyed, just like Cruden Bay,’ replied Sergy. He’d had enough of the talking and went back to gazing out of the window at the waves and the spray.
Back at Number 10, the meeting with the Prime Minister was winding down. Donald had finished his presentation. Aidan got up and went over to a couple of large boxes in the corner of the room from which he pulled out smartly bound reports. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said as he handed them across the table, ‘You’ll find in these the numbers behind our proposals.’
‘I am grateful to you for your incisive work,’ said the PM. ‘Any questions?’
‘Just one,’ replied the Chancellor. ‘Timing is going to be tight. You and I will be making our announcements to the House on Monday afternoon. Am I right in assuming that we don’t want the terrorists to know that we’re onto their conspiracy, whilst they’re still at large?’
‘Yes,’ replied the PM.
‘So, the financial rescue plan shouldn’t be revealed until the terrorists have been captured, which is expected to be… When?’
‘Around 3.30 p.m. on Monday afternoon,’ answered the PM.
‘So that means we must speak for at least ninety minutes before being able to make any concrete announcements?’ queried the Chancellor.
‘Possibly longer, if the capture doesn’t go to plan,’ replied the PM.
The Chancellor looked thoughtfully at him. ‘If you were to set the scene and explain how the Government is tackling the enormous problems associated with Stratford, and what the future holds, then I could run through the financial issues. Would that be OK?’
‘Yes, that’s what I had in mind,’ agreed the PM.
‘Then if things are delayed, I shall just have to make sure that I have some other worthy proposals I can talk about, which will use up time,’ said the Chancellor with a small frown. ‘I have been given a lot to consider. Mr Gilchrist, I am extremely grateful to you and your team for letting me have advance warning of what to anticipate. I hope I can live up to your expectations.’ He glanced back at the PM. ‘Perhaps I could retire with my team to work on Monday’s speech. I will report my proposals to Cabinet tomorrow evening?’
‘Yes, please,’ replied the PM. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘I have an observation,’ said Rafi. ‘If the wind had been blowing in the opposite direction, the City of London would have become the no-go area. I believe the terrorists would have thought of this, so my thinking is that they could have sizeable positions in both the Frankfurt and Chicago derivatives markets. I think we should strongly suggest that they do not open on Monday.’
‘Good point,’ said the Chancellor. ‘Leave that with me.’
The meeting had finished. The PM spoke to Aidan’s team. ‘Would any of you like to watch Monday’s proceedings from the Gallery?’
‘If it’s alright with you, sir,’ Aidan replied, ‘we would prefer to watch with a couple of trading screens in front of us in order to see what the other markets make of the speeches.’
Saara spoke up. ‘I would like to take up your offer, please. I am ashamed to say that I’ve never been into the Houses of Parliament. This would make a good first time, I think.’
‘Of course.’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ said the Chancellor. He picked up his papers and, deep in thought, headed for the door, followed by his team.
Aidan hovered by the door. ‘How on earth did you manage to get all that documentation together so quickly?’ Rafi asked.
‘It was a close run thing. We brought in a couple of Donald’s team to help with the word processing behind the scenes, plus we did a great deal copying and pasting from existing documents. A couple of large printer/photocopiers were shipped in from my offices and in the end we borrowed the PM’s secretarial team for the collation and binding of the documents. I reckon we did quite a good job!’ answered Aidan proudly.
‘Truly outstanding considering the circumstances,’ replied Rafi.
‘Would you like to join us for a quick bite to eat?’
Rafi was about to say yes when the PM beckoned him to stay behind with his permanent secretary.
‘Unfortunately, it seems I still have a few things to do. Let’s get together for lunch soon, though.’
The room emptied leaving just the PM and Rafi. The tense atmosphere that had characterised the previous meeting remained. The PM picked up the phone and Kate was shown in. ‘Sorry, I don’t have that much time; I have another meeting due to start in five minutes. I wanted to speak to you both. I had considered leaving it until this was all over, but it didn’t seem appropriate, given all you’ve both gone through and done.’
The PM drew breath. ‘It’s not possible for me to fully express my gratitude. Your foresight has given us the opportunity to come out of this disaster with some vestige of hope for the future.’ He had a serious look on his tired face. ‘Mr Khan and Inspector Adams, were I to be in a position to grant you a request, what might it be?’
Rafi looked at the Prime Minister and then across to Kate. He sensed that his first wish had been granted. He had found someone with whom he would enjoy spending time; hopefully a great deal of time. Rafi returned his gaze to the Prime Minister. ‘I’m not certain whether I need anything, thank you, sir.’
‘But come now, there must be something?’
Rafi thought for no more than a few seconds. It dawned on him that here was an opportunity of a lifetime – he could do something that would have made his hard-working parents proud. Rafi took a deep breath. ‘Well, here goes. Would it be possible for there to be a Royal Garden Party at Buckingham Palace, where those invited are drawn from Muslim communities throughout the United Kingdom? Not the movers and shakers, but rather the quiet, hard-working, first-class citizens who help to make this country tick. For too long they’ve been unappreciated and disenfranchised.’
The Prime Minister thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I like your idea of acknowledging those who quietly get things done.’
‘Also, it would be much appreciated if my flat could be given a bit of a tidy up!’
The PM smiled and nodded. ‘Consider it done.’
‘Detective Inspector, is there anything we might do for you?’
Kate thought for a moment. ‘Could I have a couple of weeks’ leave starting as of Monday evening? I’d like to recharge my batteries and get to know someone I’ve recently met,’ she said with a grin.
Rafi felt a warm glow building inside him. He looked across at Kate approvingly. The Prime Minister nodded. ‘I suggest that you speak to your boss and say that I asked you to spend a couple of weeks overseeing Mr Khan’s recuperation, following the unfortunate events at Paddington Green.’
‘Sir, there is one other thing,’ said Rafi. ‘It’s more a comment rather than a wish. I’m not a vindictive man; however, in my experience as a fund manager, the vast majority of people in positions of influence get there because they’re good at their job or, in a few cases, because no one else is willing to pick up a poisoned chalice.’
Rafi put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tape
. ‘I have here a recording of the interview between a junior minister and me. He was sent with a press entourage by the stand-in Home Secretary to interview me minutes before the Stratford missiles were launched – no doubt to use his actions as spin to deflect what was going on elsewhere. This is the original tape. There are no copies.’
Rafi hesitated. ‘Sir, the contents are, I believe, political dynamite. On second thoughts, Prime Minister, you would be better off not listening to it. Hypothetically speaking, if it transpired that the Stratford missile attack could have been averted, had it not been for an obsession with spin which fatally delayed key information getting through, it would damage politicians and politics irreparably. And currently, there’s more than enough to sort out; starting a blame game would only be counterproductive.’ Rafi hesitated again. ‘As I see it, a growing number of politicians spout forth initiatives and policies, but have little or no idea of change management and the workings of the real world. They’ve become obsessed with spin and looking good in the eyes of the media and have forgotten about implementation.’
The PM looked tense.
‘What I ask,’ continued Rafi, ‘Is that whoever listens to this tape should consider whether or not spin interfered with the course of events. For example, without the obsession with spin, would the train have been stopped sooner and thus been outside the terrorist’s line of sight? If they agree that the Stratford attack could have been prevented, I ask you to set up a task force to report on how the Civil Service can change the way they and politicians deal with the media, such that the current practice of spinning, giving misleading information and part-truths, becomes a thing of the past. As I see it, at the moment too many senior politicians have little more than political research and think tank experience, and have become obsessed with perception rather than practicalities and substance.’
The Prime Minister looked at Rafi. ‘Are you telling me that this tape is evidence that spin by a member of my Government prevented you from stopping a terrorist attack? And that this is the only copy?’
Rafi nodded and said, ‘I couldn’t possibly comment Prime Minister, but I can assure you, you do not want to hear the contents of the tape.’
The PM thought for a few moments. ‘I shall do as you request and if the head of the Civil Service confirms that the contents are as inflammatory as you say, I shall indeed ask him to undertake a full root and branch review of how politicians, their spokespeople and the Civil Service deal with the media.’ He stopped, deep in thought, for what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than a few seconds.
‘I will go further; if spin has corrupted the system, I will introduce an independent verification process.’ The PM paused. ‘It will be overseen by a select committee, whose members will be chosen by a secret ballot of MPs. This committee will be tasked with bringing into the open blatant spin, barefaced lies, halftruths and white lies. Offenders will henceforth have to face this committee and if they are not cleared of wrongdoing, they will have to make a public apology and correct their errors on the record. Furthermore, their apologies will be added alongside the relevant sections of Hansard requiring amendment or clarification. The committee will have teeth to investigate and bring people to account; these powers will include the ability to suspend members of both Houses and, in extremis, debar the individual from public service.’ The PM went silent again for a moment, then went on, ‘On reflection, I am prepared to go further and widen the powers of the committee to include all public officials who blatantly deceive in order to further their or their party’s own ends.’
‘Thank you Prime Minister.’
The door to the office opened. ‘Your next meeting is ready to start, Prime Minister.’
‘Thank you, SJ.’
The PM looked at Kate and Rafi, and held out his hand. ‘It’s time for me to be elsewhere. Thank you both again for your help.’
They shook his hand and left.
Back in the hotel suite, Kate put her arms around Rafi’s neck, her warm brown eyes gazing into his.
‘What now?’ asked Rafi.
‘Silly question! How about we get some food – I’m starving -and turn in for an early night?’ she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.
‘Great idea. What would you like to eat? The room service menu is impressive.’
‘I’m glad you’re paying,’ she said with a smile. ‘I could eat out for ages on some of these prices.’
‘We deserve some pampering, or at least I thought your orders were: lots of TLC.’
‘That,’ said Kate, ‘could be on the menu for dessert.’
They settled for a light supper. After the meal they snuggled up on the large sofa, enjoying the tranquillity.
‘Would you mind if we paid an impromptu visit to my brother and my parents on Sunday?’ asked Kate. ‘I think they need a bit of reassuring after the past few days.’
‘Sounds like a great idea. Are you sure we are not wanted elsewhere, though?’
‘I’ve cleared it with David - thanks.’
‘Where exactly do they live?’
‘Just outside Colchester.’
‘Sounds like an excellent idea.’
The conversation moved on to what they could do during Kate’s two-week break, which was scheduled to start as soon as the terrorist leaders were in captivity.
‘I don’t feel like going far away,’ Kate said.
‘Before this all happened, I’d booked a suite at a hotel in Cornwall for ten days. What do you think?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Is it a very smart hotel?’
‘It’s family run – by all accounts it’s comfortable and has good food,’ said Rafi.
‘But what about the beds?’ queried Kate.
‘They should be fine,’ he replied.
‘They?’ asked Kate sleepily. ‘Would it be too forward if we continue to share a bed?’ Kate planted a kiss on his cheek and snuggled up.
Rafi smiled. The prospect of having Kate as a girlfriend appealed. ‘I’d like that very much… I’ll ring the hotel in the morning.’ He didn’t get a reply; Kate was sound asleep in his arms.
The next morning, Rafi awoke to the buzzing sound of the bedside phone. He reached over and picked it up. His watch showed the time to be 11.45 a.m. He recognised the voice at the other end but could not initially place who it was. The quietly spoken woman introduced herself as SJ from Number 10.
‘Could you come in to see the Prime Minister again, please? I’ve arranged for a car to collect you. It’ll be waiting outside your hotel in thirty minutes.’
‘No problem,’ Rafi replied, replacing the phone and sitting up.
Rays of daylight crept around the edges of the curtains, casting a soft warm light around the room. Kate’s side of the bed was empty. Rafi lingered for a moment realising that he missed her company. Then he reluctantly slipped out of bed, aware of his bruises, and headed for the sitting room. On the side table was a note: Thought you needed a lie-in. Sorry not to be here - have things to do at work. See you later. Love, Kate.
Forty five minutes later Rafi was walking in to 10 Downing Street. He was met at the door by a smiling SJ. She looked at him and felt she couldn’t fully work him out. His mugshot had been plastered over the papers as public enemy number one, but he was one of the good guys. He’d had a rough time by the looks of things, but his eyes told another story. They were alive and bright.
‘The PM sends his apologies, his meetings are running late. While he is busy, he thought you would like to be brought up to speed on the terrorists’ whereabouts. But first, how about a cup of coffee?’ asked SJ.
Rafi nodded, and followed her to a coffee machine.
‘This is how the other half lives,’ remarked SJ apologetically.
‘Home from home, where I worked was open plan and my desk was practically on top of all the others.’ Rafi paused as he realised he had used the past tense. He sensed that that part of his life was over.
‘How about a nice biscuit or two,’
she said bending over just in front of him to open a cupboard door.
To Rafi’s surprise, he found himself wondering how such a meticulously dressed secretary could suddenly look provocative.
‘If you would like to follow me… I thought we could borrow one of the meeting rooms.’
As Rafi followed SJ, a stray thought flitted through his mind - what would she look like with her hair down and in casual clothes? Undoubtedly she’d be very beautiful. His musings were halted as they reached their destination, a small meeting room, where SJ beckoned him to sit opposite her. She gave him a radiant smile.
Rafi was suddenly aware that he was staring ‘Sorry I was miles away…’ He felt uneasy and wondered what SJ would say next.
‘The PM tells me you are a remarkable man, and that you helped avert a number of other major disasters.’ SJ paused and smiled. Her soft blue eyes locked on to his. ‘The PM asked me to look after you…’
Rafi searched for a good reply but his mind was focused on SJ’s beautiful face. ‘That’s good,’ he replied, weakly returning her smile. He wondered if SJ realised how uncomfortable he felt. He took a sip of his coffee and looked down at his bruised and swollen wrist, partly to avoid making eye contact.
‘Is it as painful as it looks?’ asked SJ sympathetically.
‘Not really, I’ve sort of got used to it now, thanks to the painkillers,’ replied Rafi. He sensed his brain was beginning to work again, and decided to take the initiative. ‘Do you like working at Number 10?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘The hours must be very long at times…’ Rafi took a mouthful of his coffee.
‘Yes, and the working weekends and late nights can wreak havoc with the social diary.’
Rafi looked down at her left hand - there was no ring. ‘Your boyfriend must be very understanding…’
Seeing that Rafi had relaxed, she smiled. ‘That’s a nice thought. If only one could find the right man. I seem to attract all the wrong ones.’ Someone just like you would suit me perfectly, she thought to herself.
LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge Page 29