by John Morris
“One just now, as you can see. But as for the others, I’d have to check, once cleared by the Station Commander.”
“Thanks, I’ll have a word with him.”
Dan had to wait a few minutes, but was soon shown inside. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Glover. Military business, you know. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I would like to request details of all destinations these transponders visit. The current arrangement is to or from our local airfield only. I need to extend that to all of UK, Europe, and terrorist dominated states of the Middle East and perhaps Africa. I would also like to add these two light aircraft numbers to the list, as it appears the transponder number has matched the aircraft number to date.”
“I see. This is a big step up. A terrorist threat you imply.”
“Yes sir, I think we may only be seeing the tail of the dog.”
“So, each new location we discover will also have to be monitored. That is a new and separate operation, and would have to be approved by the higher echelons of RAF command. The official request would need to come from your Director.
“There would need to be a regular exchange of information between your team, and the project leader. We have already established that relationship. Perhaps your request would include continuing the current state of affairs, and maintaining our personal relationship.”
“I’ll see to it, Sir. You have previous experience in these matters?”
“Yes, as it happens, and concerning non-military aircraft. I received a commendation, but not the promotion I had been hoping for.”
“I will add this to the official request. It makes sense, and also suits all of us involved, best.”
The Commander tapped the piece of paper Dan had given him, and said, “I need a peek. Rule out any wild-goose chase.”
Dan waited outside the door to the control room, before being allowed inside. “This is no ‘snipe hunt’ Agent Glover, you have thirty seconds to look at that screen. This is off the record. Please leave as soon as you are done. This never happened.”
Dan was led to the screen, which had a lot more lines on it. It was a composite of air routes taken, and transponder numbers, including the new numbers, for the preceding hours. The Commander turned his back, as if on purpose, and Dan took several pictures and a short video. Ten seconds were all he needed. “Thank you Commander, we move up several levels.”
“Good. This must go through priority channels, so do not expect anything before sometime on Monday. I’ll issue you with a temporary pass allowing only you, access to the control room and mess. Let’s see the guard commander.”
As they walked, the Wing Commander’s tone changed. “You enjoyed your dinner the other evening?”
Dan knew he was fishing, in a fatherly and protective way. “Very much so. Your daughter is charming, and excellent company. I wish we could take it further, to be honest with you, but our jobs make that impossible. We talked about that on the way back, and are agreed. I will not break her heart, but I will be the perfect gentleman.”
“Thank you Dan. Ah, we are here. Sergeant Frampton, please issue a ‘contractor’ pass to Agent Glover here. He is allowed access to the control room and mess at any time.”
“Your ID Sir … Ooh, MI6, I ain’t never seen one of these before. A picture for our records if you please Sir … thank you.”
The Commander countersigned the pass, and bid Dan farewell. Dan stopped at a lay-by and studied the latest images. What he saw made his current operation look like a Sunday school outing. He needed to see his Director as soon as possible.
He called Norwich airport immediately, and, after several referrals, was furnished with what he required. He piloted the light jet plane he had rented, and landed fifty minutes later at London City Airport. A short time afterwards he was debriefing with Harry, awaiting the Director’s call for interview.
“Jesus, Dan! If what you’re showing me is validated, then this is a massive operation. They could mount a Harrods style raid every day, all over Europe.”
“Yes they could, but I think that is not the intention, just a diversion. What I need to understand…”
They were interrupted as the Director called. One minute later they were admitted to her office, where Harry updated the project, and Dan filled in the pieces. “I’m going to show you a short video of their current, known operations. This is highly unofficial, but vitally important.”
Dan explained exactly what she was looking at. Her stern face took on a frown of deep concern. Her subordinates expounded upon what was, and could be occurring.
“So, to confirm what we know. They have two other unofficial airstrips in England, South Yorkshire, and somewhere east of Leicester. There may be more. There are similar airfields in Belgium, Germany, and France. When it suits them, the jumbo jet transponders pass themselves off a being light aircraft. I’ll need to keep this below Ministerial level, if we are to get anywhere with it. I’ll action this immediately, we will call it Project…”
“Caliphate, Ma’am.”
“Yes, why not indeed, Dan. Project Caliphate it is. Harry, you can stand down. I will handle this personally. Dan, stay and tell me a little more, the main points, and where you think this may be headed.”
They discussed in depth as Dan spoke candidly, separating distinctly, known fact from supposition. In time, he came to repeat the question he had almost asked Harry. “The one thing I do not understand, is where all these people are going to. Thousands of them per day, for months previous. And now we know this is not the only private airstrip they are landing at, and that is for Blighty alone. It’s repeating all over Europe.”
“We are crossing team and espionage boundaries here, and I do not like that. You need a native Arabic speaker on your team, from Syria it seems. I have two, but they are otherwise engaged. Leave it with me.
“Of course, what you actually need, is a contact inside one of these Asian community centres, they’re springing up everywhere. There’s even one in my neck of the woods. Dan, I need you to discover what happens to these families after they are dropped off.
“You need more resources, manpower, a change of location?”
“No Ma’am. I feel I’m at a hub, and it suits me well. I have local contacts, the police and RAF, so it’s perfect. I do need you to make an official request to enlarge our operation. Ma’am, if I may, could you add to the request that we prefer to maintain existing relationships with RAF Trimingham, and personally with the Station Commander. It is nearby, and ideal for quick, private contact, and updating on a needs of priority basis.”
“You want this?”
“Yes. It is fundamentally important to operational requirements.”
Dan was pleased with the result, which would not have occurred if he had requested via report. In the foyer, he returned a call. “Felicity, sorry, I was in meeting with the Director.”
“You’re in London?”
“Yes, I flew down here a couple of hours ago, why?”
“Nothing. I have some information for you, so drop by on Monday, I doubt you’ll be back tonight.”
“Actually, I should be back in the village within two-hours, say three o’clock. I’m on my way to City Airport now.”
“The pilot is waiting for you?”
“No, silly. I am the pilot.”
The line was silent, but he could hear Felicity breathing. In time she uttered disdainfully, “So you have a pilot’s licence?”
“I’m also qualified for helicopters, Phantoms, and Harriers. Now what was that about dinner?”
“Merde alors! Come and see me in my office. Goodbye.”
The connection was cut, and Dan smiled. This was turning out to be fun. Fun of the female kind.
Chapter 8 ~ Tracking and Tracing
Dan entered Lower Meddlington police station a few minutes after three o’clock. Five minutes later, Felicity escorted him to her office.
“Take a seat. You’ve been busy it seems.”
&nbs
p; “Yes. Your father was extremely helpful, and this operation will step up. He asked about our dinner date, and I explained we were both dedicated to our duties, and that I would be a proper gentleman concerning our association.”
“You better let me be the judge of that, Mister Glover. That means I’ll get the third degree from Mother, but forewarned is forearmed.
“I made a few calls to local stations in Cambridge, Thetford, and Newmarket. The latter two were more helpful. They all have dedicated police officers assigned permanently to ‘community relations’. That is jargon for interacting with the local Muslim population, which appears to be growing rapidly. I wonder why that is, don’t you? It seems there are several new community housing projects.
“I have contact numbers for two officers. Cambridge will be in touch. I have spoken to the other two, and it appears the afternoon suits both of them better, and I will keep working on Cambridge. We should go there together. Me because I made the contacts, and am police. You, because you need to understand the bigger picture.”
“Sure. Monday afternoon, it’s a date. So what about tonight?”
Felicity chuckled. “You don’t give up, do you? I have weekly reports to complete, monthly reports to update, and am normally late leaving on Fridays. I usually chill at home, allow the week to wash over me.”
“No problem. I understand. I have work to do also. I tell you what, give me a call if you get bored. I’ll probably eat late.”
Felicity eyed at him with convivial circumspection. “We’ll see.”
Dan rose to leave, and said, “Until later, or not, then. Whichever. Have a good evening. We each need our personal space.”
“Thank you. Take this with you to fill the lonely hours. It’s a brief summary of what I discovered for you, today.”
Dan returned to his room, and updated his log. The days were becoming complicated, and he needed information at his fingertips.
Once done, he sat back to think. Felicity had intimated there could be a lead as to where all these illegal immigrants were going: Asian community housing projects. He used the laptop to bring up a satellite view, which he compared to reports, and online research.
The communities were in established residential areas. Were the previous inhabitants being driven out somehow? Was the Asian community spreading sideways, or was a new development in play?
Dan did not like his own possible answers to any of the questions, so did the maths himself, in longhand: 2,000 illegal immigrants per day x 3 known airports x 90 days = 540,000 people.
Dan was stunned. Over two million people per annum.
His mind moved on, assessing what could, and what might not, be happening. He spent the next hours jotting down notes of what was probable, likely, possible, and seriously fuckwitted. None of his notes gave him comfort. He needed a beer, and even considered cancelling dinner with Felicity, until the thought of her company overruled.
He was about to call her, when his mobile rang. “Dan, sorry, but there’s been a fatal accident on the north road and I must attend as Senior Officer. Two children dead, I’m told. It seems three cars were involved. It’s going to be messy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Go, but thanks for letting me know. Take good care of yourself. No problem. This is what we do. See you next time, Ciao.”
Felicity stared momentarily at her phone; Dan had cut the call. None of her beaus had ever said that to her before. Instead, they had all pleaded to meet later. Even if she and Dan had not quite arranged a date for that night, Dan had immediately accepted the immediacy of her job—the needs of the moment. She was impressed one moment, and interrupted the next. “Ma’am, the car’s waiting.”
Dan went down to the bar intent on having a beer. He glanced at the clock, and knew shift changeover was about to happen. Duty before pleasure he mused. He accompanied Ben and Charlie to relieve Percy.
After handover, Percy said, “Time to wash and change, and a pint.”
“Same here, it’s been a long day, a long week. But we’ve made astonishing progress.”
“Care to share?”
“Yes Percy, over a pint or three, and then a large dinner.”
Dan sat at the bar, soaking up the atmosphere of somewhere different than what he was used to. Percy was taking a bath, and packing his few belongings for tomorrow afternoon. Dan chatted, with the landlord. He insisted Dan call him Brian. “It’s not my real name, and a long story, but think Magic Roundabout and you’re half way there. Anyways, that’s what everybody calls I. So, no date tonight?”
“No, there’s been a bad smash somewhere north, two kids dead, and maybe more to follow. I don’t envy her.”
“So, how’s your investigation going?”
Percy joined them, and somehow, talk tuned to immigrants, and Brian said, “They be taking over thee knows. Not these parts precisely, but all around. I heard tell that Greater Bedlington is now ‘Asian’ only.”
“I agree,” said Percy. “Hatton Green and Malmesbury are Muslim, and Ribblesford is as good as derelict. I think the locals were driven out. But why? It doesn’t make sense. Brian, do you know…”
Dan listened intently, but did not say much. His mind was working on the why of it. A little later they took a table in a quiet corner and ate. “Percy, I’d like to go and visit these ghost towns and villages.”
“I’d be happy to show you around, if I could be relieved.”
“Come Monday, the only things we will need to track are the minibuses, plus the few delivery lorries.”
“They could also be taking stuff away. We can’t tell if a container is loaded or empty. The red artic from Morgan Brothers seems to be the only regular. The other trucks are haphazard, and look like rentals.”
“I intend to look into that.”
The long days seemed to catch up with both of them, and shortly after dinner, they went to bed. Dan felt slightly alone for the first time in ages, and sent a text message to Felicity, wishing her a good night and sweet dreams. He received another by return a minute later, and smiling, soon fell asleep.
Dan woke before the alarm and, once his morning report was concluded, considered how long to keep the operation going at the hide. Just after eight o’clock, he called the British Intelligence technology department, and spoke to Tim about cameras. Dan decided on one particular model and asked it be put aside subject to official requisition. He added this to his report rationale, then added a separate spreadsheet of information listing registration numbers and companies he needed checking out.
He added several other needs to a separate document and asked for delivery and installation for the next day, Sunday. Satisfied, he sent the communiqué with a copy to the Director as she had requested.
Dan spent the morning following minibuses from the airfield, attaching tracking devices when he could. They were dropping groups of between eight and twenty people at various community centres, others at scattered villages, where they took over empty houses. The village communities appeared to be growing. He recorded all on video.
Near midday, he followed one back to base, a rental firm in Thetford. The driver was a company man in uniform. Dan waited until he left, presumably for lunch. The minibus parked next to five others, two of which he already had the registration numbers for. It was time to put on an act. Dan went inside the office and said, “Hi, what a lovely day. I need to rent a minibus, do you have one for self-drive hire?”
“When for sir?”
“Now would be good. Our regular guy let us down at the last minute, and I have eighteen kids waiting to go to the zoo. They are a nightmare when things don’t work out.”
“We only have sixteen seaters available immediately, sir.”
“Okay, I better take one, and we’ll squeeze them in somehow. A couple could ride with the organiser, so it should not be a problem.”
The girl showed Dan to several that were available, detailing the terms of rental as they went. When they reached the minibus closest to the ones he was inte
rested in, he walked away, saying, “Can’t I have one of these? They are twenty-one seaters.”
“No sir. They are reserved for a client, and pre-booked, as they often have short notice requirements.”
“But you have six of them, surely one won’t be missed for a couple of hours.”
“There are eight of them actually, and all are reserved. No can do.”
“Okay. I’ll take that Transit over there. Let’s do the paperwork.”
Dan used a false ID and driving licence, paid cash, and was gone. He did not go far, but parked up off the road, and waited. His minibus would be hard to spot unless someone was searching for it. He monitored the hire centre for over one hour, until the two other minibuses returned and parked with the six others.
When the drivers left, and the receptionist was busy, he drove behind the eight vehicles he was interested in. He placed a transponder in a secure location on each new one. He videoed the rear number plate, over speaking the transponder number, lest there be any confusion. As soon as he was done, he drew the minibus up outside reception.
The receptionist said, “I thought you drove inside.”
“Sorry, yes I did, before I realised I should report to you first. You’ll need to check the tank, which I just filled up. May I have a card, we may need to use you again.”
“Why yes of course, sir. The kids are happy?”
“Yes, and the regular guy will collect them.” Dan caused the girl to laugh, talking absolute rubbish to her. She believed him, and never thought to ask anything else. Mission accomplished.
It was after two in the afternoon, when Dan called Percy, who reported, “The red artic left here fifty-seven minutes ago, so should be in Thetford around now, if it is heading for base at Croxton.”
“Thanks Percy, I’m on it.” Dan caught up with the artic as it entered the yard. However, one of the trailer brake lights was not working properly, so he took a chance.
Dan pulled up by the trailer’s rear, and give the lights a good kick from underneath. He walked forwards as the driver got out of his cab, Dan said, “One of your brake lights is out, I almost crashed into you.”