Islamic State: England

by John Morris

  This was Percy’s skill with local peers, and he came up trumps every time. Martin learned to read the situation, and how to appear distracted by his smart phone, even if there was nothing on it. He was learning how to be an agent in the real world.

  On Wednesday evening, Dan received a short phone call from Felicity. “I’m starving, but need a bath. You are bringing me takeaway tonight, so be here soon.”

  “You’re back already?”

  “No silly, just for a station visit, and to greet Karen tomorrow morning. It will be a week or more until she fills my boots, but she needs to know what she’s taking on. It’s standard practice. Dan, I’m hungry!”

  Dan had been called, and though his duty lingered, he could work from her home. He departed, they ate, and slobbed on the settee. Dan said, “I should take a shower, but I’m desperately tired.”

  “Dan, all I want, need is a cuddle, and to fall asleep with your strong arms holding me. That’s it.”

  “That’s a shame, I’m horny.”

  “Same here, but work takes its toll.” A kiss, and a hand pulling him towards her bedroom, cut off their words.

  Veronica had taken over collating the reports from the away team, and following up as required. Alison added to her research, offering demographics of cultural shift and drift, and a large file concerning the Pakistani grooming gangs. She was having a hard job tying all the different threads of information together, until Dan and Percy stayed late with her on Thursday.

  Dan said, “Derby is similar to Leicester, too large a city to take over in one go. We were reliably informed that Nottingham, less than fifteen miles away, is similar. Together those cities are larger than Leicester. They are also in different counties, and support different MP’s.

  “The Muslim presence is strong in areas of all three cities, and representatives of the Muslim community act as go betweens with city authorities, and often, the police. Muslim inspired, self-imposed segregation, is rampant. They are cities within a city, one where Sharia law is practiced, as are forced marriages, and female genital mutilation.

  “Although classed as a city, Sheffield is like a conurbation of towns, and we visited five on Wednesday, including Rotherham, Percy.”

  “What we witnessed, and gleaned from local informants, was that the areas are run by gangs of Pakistani Muslims, who are into all sorts of racketeering. You name it, they’re doing it, but other gangs complete, the Somali and Romanians to name but two.

  “The Muslims are the largest, and dominant group. Similar prevails in Rochdale, which we visited today. I see you have the full files of the recent grooming cases, and details of some not yet made public knowledge. I can tell you, these are the tip of the iceberg. We discovered nearby Dewsbury is a hotbed of jihad insurgency.

  “Everything continues as normal, until you scratch the surface, as we did. The trafficking and forced prostitution of seriously underage, white British girls is endemic, and apparently supported and promoted by social service, and local councillors. Some police were also caught in the net. This isn’t the same Country I grew up in.”

  Percy stopped to wipe his brow, his face reddening. “This is sick, these men are paedophiles. Why are so many of them?”

  Dan said, “I’ll tell you why: Aisha. She was Muhammad’s third wife, and they married when she was seven years old. The marriage was consummated when the child was nine, and many Muslim men want to emulate Muhammad, and gain a place at Allah’s side by having a child bride. Most Muslim’s frown on this, so they take white girls ‘as held in their right hand’, like trophies of war. They treat them as they wish, like dogs, with Allah’s blessing. Not only is it misogynism, but a victory over the white infidels: us.”

  Percy banged his fists on the table, barely containing his rage, but mentally regrouped to continue. “I am hopeful that a few anonymous reports will arrive at Lower Meddlington police station over the coming days, that will shed more light on what is happening in those parts.”

  Percy became subdued, his mind working against personal ghouls. Dan wanted to stop, but they were almost done, and the answer they sought, he believed was within reach.

  Dan continued, as Percy dealt with his inner demons. “Percy did a mighty fine job. I wish I had his skill in getting police constables to talk, and share openly. We could not have done this without you, Percy.”

  Percy seemed to get a second wind, and responded, “Thank you, but I only did what I could. It wasn’t enough.”

  “But a place for us all to begin. Go on, Percy.” Alison chipped in.

  “Veronica, as you see from our reports, we discovered similar in Rochdale and the surrounding area, Bolton especially. That is part of Greater Manchester, a large city, made up of innumerable towns. This particular layout appears to provide a base for the Muslims to take over large parts of the illegal booze, cigarette, and sex trades. In this case, the seriously underage sex trade. The girls are treated as a commodity, and don’t even earn money from their enforced prostitution. Sorry, but I am having a big problem with this.

  “I mention this, because it gives us clues to the way they think, and that thinking is tribal. The girls are slaves, the drugs, booze, and no doubt gun, and gambling rackets are stock in trade. And we, the British people, are the targets, the enemy.

  “They have zero intention of integrating, but are working to promote Islamic states within our towns and cities. This is war.”

  Dan said, “Agreed Percy. This is what we are witnessing, but on a larger scale. We have taken these people in, most of them worthy, and given them citizenship, equality. Their extremists respond by trying to take over our green and pleasant land, abuse our hospitality, and endeavour to turn this, our country, into an Islamic State. I have a serious problem with that, especially as no moderate Muslim stands against them. That in turn means, the Muslim community supports and empowers these extremists in our midst.”

  Percy said, “That is the distinct impression I got, although nobody was forthright enough to say it out loud. I heard one phrase three times, twice in Rochdale, and once in Rotherham, ‘Silence for votes’.

  “This represents an unwritten deal between local politicians and the Muslim community leaders. The authorities agree to turn a blind eye to all matters Muslim, in exchange for the Muslim community supporting the political party making the deal. Social Services, and the police conspire. They want to wash their hands of the whole debacle.”

  “Is this because of collusion, embarrassment, or entrapment?”

  “All three. Embarrassment because the general Muslim community is in denial. Entrapment because these are extremely young, white girls. And collusion by the powers that have local and regional control.

  “One copper explained a little deeper, you see. The local council run the social services, who follow the council line. Hence, care homes turned into grooming factories. The police are warned off checking out local smuggling operations, although I heard rumours some, including more senior officers, were being bribed. Regardless, the police dare not enter a Muslim stronghold with force. They would start a war.”

  “So, everyone takes a slice of the cake, gets a backhander, and all the ills are swept under the carpet. Percy, Veronica, is this all about politics regards the white British, and creating Islamic enclaves for the Muslims. Can it be that simple?”

  Veronica spoke first. “I believe so Dan, as in being put simply. Yes, that sums up what we are witnessing across the land. Plus, the Muslims are the first to play the racial or religious prejudice card against us. Our wet left absolve them from crimes we would be locked away for life, and have a lot to answer for. So do our money-grabbing lawyers.”

  Alison took up the cudgel, “But that’s not all. Virtually since inception, Islam has been a battle between Sunni and Shia. Each call the other infidels, and yet that term seems to stick to us most of all, the Caucasian Christians. But the fact remains, the rich and powerful Muslims prey upon the weak and poor. Even of their own kind. They buy and sell
people as a commodity, well the men do. If a woman is raped, she is found guilty of adultery, and stoned to death for her crime. The rapist is pardoned, and given a slap on the back. These people are barbaric: animals!

  “I repeat, this is not about sex. It is about personal power. To me, they appear to worship the Law of Thelema, by Alistair Crowley: ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will.’

  “I ask you, whose will?”

  During Alison’s rant, Percy had been quiet, thinking at times. A pause developed and he spoke softly. “My granddaughter is eleven next week. Today I learned of another white girl, also eleven years old. She had been raped by thousands of Muslims, and not only vaginally, but orally and anally. Sometimes more than one Muslim monster at a time.”

  He drew out a picture of an angelic child. “Sophie,” and his tears flowed, his voice stuttered. He looked up as if pleading. “How? … How could any descent person find this child sexually attractive? … I do not understand ... The odd paedophile perhaps, but thousands of Muslim men of all ages, impossible. This is a cultural problem. It is an ethnic problem. And it is directly related to Islam.”

  He tried to say more, but made mewing sounds as his face scrunched up, and his body shook. In uneven tones, he said one final thing. “This is the Devil’s work, no God could be involved with such iniquity.”

  Dan said, as he gentled Percy to his car. “This is all about power. Controlling others. They do it because they can, and do get away with it. They even do it to other Muslims. Take Friday off.”

  The car started, and Dan returned to finish work quickly. When they locked up for the night, and came out the back way. Percy switched off the engine, and strolled down to meet them.

  “I must finish this. Prevent it happening to Sophie––other kids. Come, time for a beer. I need to be with normal people tonight.”

  Chapter 29 ~ Suicide Bombers

  Dan received an urgent summons, early the next morning. He only had time for a brief chat with the team over rushed breakfast, before delegated tasks and leaving.

  Alison gave him a folder before he left. “Here are the full results of where the Luton vehicles went. The last item is quite unusual, the derelict USAF base, Lillyworth Moor. I’m running checks on it now, but Lincolnshire is at the back end of nowhere, and this place is in a remote part of that. Have fun.”

  Dan was in Bude by mid-Friday morning. He spent time with Derek and Bernie identifying potential threats of the human kind. Bernie said, “Keep this up Dan, those two girls, well, we got them in Bristol, saved them more like. They were supposed to blow up a shopping centre, first and second waves, but as soon as they were approached, they asked for their freedom. We learned a lot about the male Muslim mind, which I will share with you. It’s all in this dossier. If you need more, you’ll have to see them yourself.”

  “Thank you Bernie. I just need to be sure of everything.”

  “Perhaps that is why you are so good at what you do. But the images still need better clarity. You need more drones?”

  “No, but I do need to hone focus of the ones we have deployed. They always seem to default away from facial recognition. I do not understand that.”

  Derek began to say something, before Bernie interrupted. “We’ve had these software glitches before. American programmers for you. Excuse me a moment.”

  Bernie stood aside and made a short call. Derek whispered, “I think they were set for topographical, and not facial recognition. That is the typical factory setting. Shush, he’s coming back.”

  Bernie was effusive when he returned. “Sorry, the code is now being amended. Wrong setting you know. Five minutes, and the drones you have will all default to facial recognition. My time is short, so please tell me what you know about these characters.”

  Bernie laid a series of photographs on the table, and Dan answered as best he could. All were known terrorists. Their immediate location was the sticking point, as many appeared to be in UK, and had not departed. Bernie leaned forward and said, “Dan, I need these people found. Do your best, I know you will.”

  Dan rose to the retort. “No problem Bernie, now we have the correct software installed in the drones.” Before offence could be taken, Dan moved on. “What can you tell me about the old USAF base at Lillyworth Moor?”

  “Err? Let me see, Lillyworth Moor was RAF, loaned to the United States Air Force during World War Two, and is derelict.”

  Derek raised his hand and interjected, “It’s for sale actually, Bernie. Been on the market for a couple of years. Nobody wants it. It’s at the back of beyond, in Lincolnshire.”

  Dan appeared to be listening intently, but his fingers were alive below the table: ‘Message Alison: all info pronto, USAF Lillyworth Moor. Look for a Muslim buyer, transfers of militia inwards, weapons?’

  Two minutes later Veronica called back. “Dan, this appears to be a jihad training establishment. Alison is still unravelling the Arabic, but this is a Muslim hothouse. Can you get eyes-on?”

  Dan didn’t want to get one up on Bernie, but he had to speak. “Bernie, Derek, USAF Lillyworth Moor is now under civilian management, the company that bought the property is directed by Hussein, Ali, and Mohammad. Ring any bells, gentlemen?

  “I need a satellite over them now. This is of the highest threat to our democracy, until proven otherwise. I expect a feed to Alison within moments. Thank you.”

  Dan got up and left the table, making several short calls to Veronica, his Director, and RAF Trimingham. “Tom, I have another one for you to monitor, USAF Lillyworth Moor. I’m at GCHQ Bude now, and we’re bringing the satellite into focus. More later.”

  They watched the repositioning satellite, as the view on screen came into focus. The scale was high-level, and showed the entirety, and surrounding farmland.

  Dan said, “I make out two runways, long ones, and buildings that are not derelict, but busy. Look, those are blast-proof hangars, walls three feet thick. What are we looking at?”

  Bernie coughed delicately and Derek said, “I’ll zoom in on the barracks. I see signs of life.”

  As the satellite focused nearer to ground, so activity was visible all over the camp. They studied section by section, discovering a parade ground, assault course in use, and a battle ground with modern tanks and howitzers. They were practicing for war.

  Bernie said, “Some of the Luton people went here?”

  “Yes. A training ground, and the runways appear serviceable, as do the hangars. It is also a strike base. You’ll come to your own conclusions, but we need twenty-four seven on the all of this, down to facial recognition level. I believe you’ll find many of those you seek here.”

  Derek ventured to speak. “Why are they doing this?”

  “What? Training personnel in the use of weapons, artillery? What springs to mind? I’ll tell you what, defence of enclaves. You read the battle formations, right? Wrong, you have no idea. This is standard military drill. These are defensive layouts. Those over there, offensive. I suggest you get an expert Army tactician to analyse what they are plotting. It will give us a clue as to what they are about. And copy me in, I’m on the front line, and my team are all alone at the moment.”

  Bernie was about to speak, when a computerised voice stated, “Facial match, ninety-nine percent certain, Alfridi ben Absolom. Facial match, ninety-nine percent certain, Ibrahim…”

  Images of faces danced across the screen, and there were a lot of matches. Bernie pulled up associated files, and Dan perceived the station changing up a gear. He turned to leave. “Gentlemen, thank you. I think you have a lot of new information to process, so I’ll leave you to it. Copy us in on the results, and as soon as you get them.”

  Derek acknowledged Dan with a curt nod of his head. Bernie was busy on his phone. Dan excused himself, returned to his plane, and reaching for his notebook, began to write up his notes. Before planning his next move, he stated aloud, “Always work from a basis of fact, and never from half-arsed
theory or speculation.”

  As soon as he was done, he took a break. He needed to clear his mind, and doing something different suited. He got a coffee from the local control tower office and paid his dues before staying to chat a little. He got on well with the controller and they shared several jokes before Dan finished his coffee. Looking at his watch, Dan said, “Time I was on my way, Rob. See you next time.”

  Dan settled into the pilot’s seat, checked in with his team, updated Tom, and called the Director. She was not amused, but backed his next move to the hilt. “We, as an organisation, live off intelligence. You are correct. There are gaps of information. Tell me, why do you want to see these two girls?”

  “Because they have been through the system, Ma’am, the ISIL system. Bristol police, antiterrorism, will be treating them as criminals, and I, we need information only they possess.”

  “Good enough. I’ll send one of our translators to you. You do realise the local police will put you in a fully monitored interview room.”

  “Of course Ma’am. That’s the game in play. Please have the translator bring two female prayer mats, and a Mecca compass.”

  “Nice move. Okay, I’ll inform them and it will be so ... Three hours, so you may have time for lunch. Ciao.”

  Dan rested, and took a short nap. With his mind clear, he profiled the girls, and worked out several strategies to get them to talk. That was his job, and his expertise. Satisfied with his planning, he taxied for take-off, made good speed east, and was soon landing at Bristol airport.

  Dan met the translator outside Bristol high security police station, and it became clear, they were both being treated with great suspicion, and were being stalled. Security wanted to take Dan’s gun and mobile phone. He used the latter to make a short phone call. His Director said, “I’ll call the Home Office at once.”