LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Len concluded matters with a stark warning. ‘We have good reason to believe that several of these people have a direct line of communication with the terrorist leaders. Until we have all the key leaders in custody we must, under no circumstances – I repeat, under no circumstances – let the cat out of the bag that Operation Dry Clean exists. Is that clearly understood?’

  Fifteen minutes later, after a series of searching questions, the video links were turned off and connection was re-established with those tracking Golden Sundancer and the sheikh’s plane, and those planning the capture of Maryam in Luxembourg.

  Colonels Turner and Gray and a reduced team came back into the room, which was rapidly reverting to a mini war room. On the central screen there was now a large electronic map showing Morocco and the north-west coast of Africa.

  The clock on the wall gave the time as 11.06 a.m. The Prime Minister was scheduled to stand up in front of the House of Commons in less than three hours. Even though it was a bank holiday, these were exceptional times and the House was in emergency session.

  Rafi turned his attention to the activities in Morocco. The chart showed a red dot which was making its way across the screen following a thin yellow line towards Marrakech. It was about 700 miles away. There was a second red dot 100 miles offshore tracking a thin yellow line along the coast towards the port of Safi. Then he spotted another red dot by Marrakech and a number of blue dots.

  Kate tugged at his arm; she was also looking at the central screen. ‘I reckon those red dots are the sheikh’s plane, Golden Sundancer and Jameel. The blue ones must be the good guys - so the blue one in Safi must be our friends on board Puddle Jumper.’

  Rafi pointed to the fine yellow line which stopped about fifteen miles off the coast. ‘That, I presume, is where the submarine is to rendezvous with Puddle Jumper.’

  One of the colonel’s adjutants walked over to chat to Kate. ‘It’s all starting to come together nicely. The next few hours should be interesting! We have patched into the SBS command centre which is overseeing the operation at Safi. There’s a Nimrod offshore at 40,000 feet monitoring the location of Golden Sundancer. She has her cloaking device on so she’ll be invisible to the terrorists. She’ll pick up the video pictures and radio communications from the SBS men on board Puddle Jumper and the SAS teams on the ground. She’ll then relay them to the command centre where they’ll bounce them on to us.’

  The adjutant thought for a moment. ‘Golden Sundancer, at her current speed, should reach Safi between 13.30 and 13.45 hours, our time this afternoon. She has slowed down a bit; it seems she’s sailing into a steep swell. The sheikh’s plane is scheduled to land at Menara airport, Marrakech, at 13.00 hours. If the switch to the helicopter goes quickly, they could be at Safi by 14.00 hours… We would prefer there to be more of a time gap before the helicopter arrives.’

  ‘Are they going to be well prepared?’ asked Rafi.

  ‘The terrorists still seem blissfully unaware that we are on to them,’ continued the adjutant. ‘The two SAS operatives we have undercover at Marrakech Airport have reported that the helicopter is unguarded, with just the pilot waiting. The sheikh meanwhile has two minders with him on board his jet. Both are big gorillas of men, but definitely not in the same league as the two Chechen mercenaries on Golden Sundancer.’

  The adjutant pointed to the map. ‘In Safi, we have two highly experienced SAS soldiers - Major Mark Piggot and Sergeant Colin Blake. They have identified four heavies watching the harbour and if they’re anything like the Chechen mercenaries, they’ll have a real skirmish on their hands. Thankfully, the industrial part of the port is relatively deserted. In contrast, the nearby fishing boat quays are a hive of activity. From the location of the four heavies, we believe that the helicopter plans to land on the quay in the industrial part of the harbour, close to where Golden Sundancer is likely to berth.’

  The adjutant paused and looked across at the screen. ‘As good fortune would have it, our friends on board Puddle Jumper seem to be in just the right place. Now that we’re certain Safi is the rendezvous point, the three SAS men at Mohammedia and the three at Casablanca are, as we speak, driving down the N1 to Safi. Roads permitting, they’ll be there in good time.’

  ‘What’s Jameel up to?’ asked Kate.

  ‘He finished a round of golf half an hour ago and is currently in the hotel bar. He’s packed his bags and ordered a taxi to the airport ten minutes ago. He’s the proud possessor of a couple of tracking devices: one in his shoe, which he left unattended whilst playing golf, and another in his hand luggage!’

  On board Puddle Jumper the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. The retired commander and his wife were sitting on the aft deck, enjoying mugs of tea. They were joined by a scantily clad Lieutenant Anna Gregson, with a colourful caftan wrapped around her waist. She was followed by a similarly dressed Lieutenant Janet Steiner.

  ‘Been enjoying the sun?’ enquired their mother.

  ‘It’s fantastic up on the foredeck,’ replied Anna.

  ‘Any idea where your boyfriend Clive is?’ the commander asked.

  ‘Yes; he and Jim have gone on a bimble – said they had to see a man about a dog,’ replied Janet.

  The commander nodded. ‘We’ve got about two and a half hours before we will have company, according to our friends.’

  ‘In which case,’ said Janet, ‘Time for a bit more sun on the foredeck.’

  ‘Remember the sunscreen,’ said their mother tossing a bottle in Anna’s direction.

  ‘Thanks mum!’

  As the two women left for the bow of the boat, Jim and Clive climbed back on board and walked over to chat to the commander.

  ‘That was quick; I thought you were chatting to your SAS friends, Mark and Colin?’

  ‘We were. And we’ve sorted out what equipment we have between us. They’re rather well tooled-up. As long as a small army doesn’t arrive, they should give us more than enough cover.’

  ‘What do they make of the four heavies guarding the helicopter landing area?’ asked the commander.

  ‘Piece of piss!’ replied Clive. ‘The way they handle themselves and their guns, they’re no more than local hoodlums. All they seem to do is smoke cigarettes and talk; not one of them has even done a recce, which is good news.’

  ‘It’s the two Chechens on board Golden Sundancer that we have to be careful of,’ remarked Jim. ‘Oh, by the way, we reckon that Golden Sundancer will moor up 100 metres across from where we are.’

  In the Ops Room, Rafi turned his attention to the flat screen TV. He watched the commentary preceding the PM’s speech in the House of Commons, where a political correspondent was standing inside the Houses of Parliament with a senior opposition MP on either side of her.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ began the interviewer, ‘Will there be a call for a vote of no confidence and will the Prime Minister survive this afternoon?’

  ‘My party will want to find out why things have gone so badly wrong and will wish to see those who have let this country down take responsibility for their negligence,’ replied the first MP.

  The interviewer turned to the second politician. ‘It’s going to be very difficult for the PM and his Chancellor to put a lid on the financial fallout from Stratford, isn’t it?’

  ‘Undoubtedly. It’s going to cost the country tens if not hundreds of billions of pounds. This could sink our economy, our currency and scare the living daylights out of the markets. The last thing that we need is political uncertainty. I hope that the PM will find a way of getting the opposition parties involved with the process of getting the country out of this mess.’

  The interviewer looked at the first MP. ‘If there’s a call for a vote of no confidence, what will the implications be?’

  ‘The Government has a tiny majority and will seek to tough things out. It’s more likely that pigs will fly, than for a recently elected Government to give up its reins on power.’

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen, and with that we return to the stud
io,’ concluded the political correspondent.

  The special forces command centre and the Air Chief Marshal were in discussion with Clive and Jim. As things currently stood, the helicopter would land in Safi only minutes after Golden Sundancer berthed. Jim asked whether it might to possible to get them more time to overpower those on board before the helicopter arrived.

  Accordingly, at Marrakech airport, a quick-thinking and inventive SAS operative borrowed the jacket of an airport worker and walked up to the helicopter. He had a water bottle filled with oil hidden in his pocket. The bottle had a tube – commandeered from a drinks machine – tightly inserted into its top which went down his trouser leg.

  The disguised SAS man sauntered over to the pilot to enquire whether the helicopter would be requiring the help of a baggage handler. He was summarily sent away. As he left, he walked towards the back of the aircraft and stopped to tie his shoelace under the tail’s rotary engine. Job done. He got up and walked off. On the concrete apron behind him was a fresh puddle of oil.

  The SAS man walked back to the airport buildings and found an airport security official. He explained that the helicopter he’d visited seemed to be leaking hydraulic fluid from its engine.

  ‘It’s probably nothing, but should someone look at it? We don’t want it to fall out of the sky.’

  The security man had shrugged his shoulders and begrudgingly gone off to tell his boss. Nothing happened for some while. It seemed that the message hadn’t got through.

  However, some minutes later, a relieved SAS man reported that a man dressed in overalls was on his way towards the helicopter. The conversation between the man and the helicopter pilot looked animated. The pilot eventually got out, looked at the fluid on the concrete and with a shrug of his shoulders agreed to let the man look at the engine. This entailed the engineer walking back to collect his tools and a stepladder.

  There was a noticeable smile on the face of the officer in the special services command centre; the engineer was in no hurry and was slowing things up, just as required.

  The sheikh’s plane landed at Marrakech Airport on time. It parked away from the passenger planes, next to a group of small private aircraft not far from the helicopter. Those on board were quickly cleared through customs and immigration. The sheikh met Jameel on the tarmac and they were seen smiling in the bright sunshine, next to their two heavily built security guards. However, on hearing the news of the delay, the sheikh hunched his shoulders and scowled.

  At Safi, Golden Sundancer had turned on to the final approach to the harbour. As things stood, she would now arrive comfortably ahead of the helicopter.

  Jim and Clive, with assistance from Mark and Colin, their SAS back-up, had three groups of people to take care of: six on board Golden Sundancer, the four heavies on the harbour side and the five people on the helicopter – fifteen hostile people. It was the two Chechen mercenaries on board Golden Sundancer and the two bodyguards with the sheikh to whom they would have to pay special attention.

  The command centre made it clear that the mission was to capture all the terrorists alive. Casualties, if at all possible, should be avoided, but in the last resort be limited to the bodyguards and the heavies on the dockside. The politicians wanted the terrorists unharmed.

  The Prime Minister was due to stand up in the Commons in less than fifteen minutes. Tension was rising in the packed chamber.

  Back at Safi, preparations were complete. The plan was straightforward. When Golden Sundancer arrived, the two female naval officers would act as attractive distractions; meanwhile, Jim and Clive, the two SBS officers would slip on board via the swimming platform at the stern, neutralise those on board, then wait for the sheikh and his entourage to board the vessel and overpower them too. Mark and Colin would take care of the four heavies on the dockside.

  The commander was standing next to the radar screen on Puddle Jumper. ‘I can see them on our radar; they’re approaching the outer harbour. ETA: four minutes,’ he said into his radio.

  Colin confirmed that he had got Golden Sundancer in his binoculars. ‘The captain plus one are on the flybridge and two people are sitting on the foredeck, leaving two people below deck.’

  Big Ben struck twice. Rafi, who had been following events in Safi on the screens, switched his attention across to the TV.

  The Speaker of the House called: ‘Order, Order! Pray silence for the Prime Minister.’

  The Prime Minister rose and moved to the dispatch box in front of him. He waited a few seconds. A hush fell over the packed House of Commons. Uncharacteristically, the PM took off his wristwatch and placed it face up on the dispatch box. The estimate he had been given was for the submarine to pick up of the captured terrorists at around 3.30 p.m. Maryam, meanwhile, would be smuggled out of Luxembourg. Only then could he reveal what had been going on. So much could go wrong. There were bound to be delays. It would therefore be something like two hours before he and his Chancellor could announce the full story.

  There was a sense of anticipation in the air. The future of the Government lay in his hands. The next couple of hours would be crucial.

  ‘I come before the House with a heavy heart. The Stratford disaster will haunt us for years to come.’ The PM’s demeanour mirrored his words.

  ‘My Government and I wish to pay our humble respects to all those who have suffered from this disaster and to all those who will suffer from radiation poisoning in the future. I am mindful of all those who have lost everything. The efforts of the police, the armed services, doctors, nurses and emergency services deserve our thanks and praise. I pay tribute to all those who have played a role in the rehousing of those who lost their homes. In recognition of the deeds and acts of friendship, in future, the second Monday in February will be a public holiday. It will be a day to remember all those who suffered and a day to reflect. I hope that Stratford Day will become a day of good deeds and community works.’

  One could have heard a pin drop.

  ‘The financial implications of the disaster will be explained by the Chancellor of the Exchequer shortly. He will set out what the Government will be doing to help those who have been caught up in this heinous and barbaric attack.’

  The PM paused. ‘The trials and tribulations that now face our country are greater than at any time since the end of the last World War. It is imperative that unity and common purpose prevail.’

  Rafi listened to the PM give an update on the tragedy, which included details on the dead, the dying, the dispossessed, the army’s progress in guarding and clearing the exclusion zone, its size and the problems they had overcome to stop radioactive materials polluting the water table and travelling down the River Lea.

  The PM moved on to his policy initiatives. ‘The General Election, which was held less than a year ago, produced a finely balanced result. The number of votes cast for the two main parties was almost identical and the vote for the Liberal Democrats gave them a creditable third place. Ninety five per cent of the votes cast at the election were for the three main parties. The manifestos on which the election was fought were as similar as the political pundits could remember; indeed some called for a hung Parliament to bring in the dynamism and skills of the opposition parties.’

  He paused. ‘The recent exploits of a few of my former ministers have highlighted the misguided and muddled thought processes of political apparatchiks. Their goal was to ingratiate themselves with the news gatherers and the media rather than to focus on doing their jobs well. For this I am deeply sorry. We were elected to run the country on behalf of the people and not to look good and score points as if we were on a TV game show. Last week, presidential style, single-party politics was the order of the day. As of Friday morning this all changed. It is our duty to pull together, work in harmony and deal with the aftermath of this tragedy. Therefore, this afternoon, my Chancellor and I shall be setting out my Government’s proposals which are designed to take us forward, with one voice.’

  The PM glanced across at the o
pposition benches as he spoke. ‘Until such time as the country has recovered and its economy is prosperous again, I will be forming a Coalition Government and a new collective Cabinet drawn from across the political spectrum of this House. The Cabinet’s composition will be along the lines of Parliamentary committees. This morning I had an audience with the Queen and I also met with the leaders of Her Majesty’s two main opposition parties. We have agreed to identify a range of topics which will henceforth be outside the Punch and Judy nature of politics and will become a matter for consensus between the leading political parties. This will enable the Government to deliver long-term strategies and not quick fixes. The country will require this if it is to fully recover its dynamism.’

  The PM had the complete attention of those listening to him.

  ‘A State of Emergency will continue until such time as the after-effects of Stratford have diminished. Lest those of you sitting on the back benches or in the Upper Chamber feel left out, Parliament will have a major role to play in scrutinising the legislation that will be put forward by the Coalition Government - a National Government. Transparency and genuine debate will be key elements of this process.’

  The PM hesitated and looked across to the Speaker of the House. ‘This Government recognises that responsibility has to be taken for the disaster. The air has to be cleared to forestall any accusations that there might be in this House. I have accepted the resignations of the Home Secretary, a minister and two junior ministers in the Home Office. I will talk about their replacements shortly.’

  This statement was met by gasps.

  The PM continued resolutely. ‘I have also accepted resignations from all those public servants in charge of nuclear safety matters and the board members of the company responsible for running nuclear freight trains. My Cabinet has arranged for a number of senior executives from leading energy and industrial companies to be seconded to take their places in the short to medium term. I am pleased to report to the House that a distinguished former leader of an opposition party has agreed to work with the new Home Secretary, as the Home Office minister with responsibility for Homeland Security. He has put on hold all his private business activities and speaking engagements. Some might say that the Home Office is a poisoned chalice; others might view it as an opportunity. I am pleased that the former party leader takes the latter view.’