Trojan

by Alan McDermott

  ‘Can I see her?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘In about half an hour. I’ve arranged for her to be taken up to the AMU. You can wait for her there.’

  The doctor gave him directions to the acute medical unit, and Harvey stopped off for a coffee on the way.

  Ellis’s request for him to return to the office would have to wait.

  CHAPTER 29

  Thursday, 17 August 2017

  As Harvey entered the office floor, several people left their desks to walk over and ask about Sarah.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he assured them. ‘She’ll be out tomorrow, maybe the day after. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do. Hamad, did they find anything at the mosque?’

  ‘No word yet.’

  ‘Okay, in five minutes I want you to update me on everyone’s progress with the mosque CCTV.’

  Harvey walked over to the glass palace and Ellis waved him in.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he pre-empted her. ‘Home in a couple of days, back to work in a week or so.’

  ‘Good to hear. I spoke with Bury over at SO15. Such a terrible loss. He confirmed that none of his men reported anything of use before the explosion.’

  ‘That doesn’t leave us much to work with, unless the CCTV we’ve been looking at throws up any clues. All I can suggest is that we bring in everyone else who was known to Khan, but this time take proper precautions. No more home visits, for a start.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  ‘We’re tracking their phones, which tells us where they are. Anyone out in the open can be picked up, but if they’re at home we risk another explosion. I suggest we use Hamad’s snitch, Samir, to lure anyone holed up out in the open. Make up some excuse for why he has to meet them. That way we can take them down before they cause any damage.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Ellis agreed. ‘While you do that, I have to go and see Maynard. It’s time we briefed him on Khan’s role in this.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s wise at this point?’ Harvey asked. ‘Granted, his men would be more likely to extract the information we need – if we manage to bring anyone in alive – but it would be an admission that we aren’t up to the task.’

  ‘I know, but what with the plane crash and now this bombing, he’s demanding to know what’s going on. Besides which, my priority is making sure we get the X3 before they get a chance to use it. I’ll deal with the fallout afterwards. Now get Hamad to contact his informant and get things in motion.’

  Ellis put on her coat and led Harvey out of her office, locking it behind them. While she headed for the exit, Harvey made his way to Farsi’s desk.

  ‘Have we identified anyone who could have taken the X3 from the mosque?’

  ‘We may have. I gave Gareth Sarah’s workload and it looks like he might have found something.’

  Harvey walked over to Bailey’s desk and stood behind him. On the screen, he saw images showing the platform of an Underground station.

  ‘I thought Hamad asked you to cover Sarah’s load.’

  ‘He did,’ Bailey confirmed. ‘And I am. I sent you an email ten minutes ago.’

  Harvey patted his pockets for his missing phone before remembering that it had been destroyed. ‘I haven’t had time to log in yet. What did it say?’

  ‘At about ten to eight last night, people started arriving at the mosque. There were eight of them all together, all carrying backpacks. We weren’t able to identify any of them as they were all wearing hoodies, as if to deliberately hide their faces. They stayed inside for about fifteen minutes, then they all left together and headed in different directions.’

  ‘Sounds suspicious,’ Harvey noted. Unfortunately, his people had been focusing on al-Hosni at the time, otherwise he would have had people on the ground who could have called it in.

  ‘It gets better. I tracked the first one to a Tube station and watched him get on a train. Thing is, he never got off again. I checked every station on the line, and there’s no sign of him.’

  Harvey turned to Farsi. ‘I’ll get everyone working on these eight suspects. While we’re doing that, get a real-time feed from GCHQ and track all known phones. If you spot anyone out and about, liaise with SO15 and pull them. I also need you to meet with Samir. We have to get him to lure the others in Khan’s clique out into the open, otherwise there may be a repeat of what happened at Ghulam’s place.’

  ‘Samir’s not that good an actor,’ Farsi objected. ‘And he’d need a damn convincing reason before anyone would drop what they’re doing to meet up with him,’

  ‘His addiction makes him sound permanently nervous anyway, so he doesn’t need to be Laurence Olivier, but I want at least one person in the cells in the next hour. If SO15 can’t provide any, it’s up to Samir. Come up with something.’

  Farsi went to make his calls while Harvey asked Bailey to show him the people leaving the mosque. After viewing the footage, he gathered everyone round and designated each suspect before assigning them to team members.

  ‘According to Gareth, the one he followed didn’t appear to get off the Tube, so we can assume he changed his appearance at some point. If you come up blank, go back and look for matching bags, build, height, whatever you can. We need to find these people.’

  Aswan chewed ruefully on his chicken sandwich, barely tasting the mass-produced filling. His mind wouldn’t let go of what lay in store for Samir, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Khan planned to deal with his friend.

  He’d thought long and hard about sending the text as instructed, but his fear of the imam had been the deciding factor. The message had been sent, and Samir had even replied to say he’d be at the coffee shop the following day.

  Why did you have to do it, Samir?

  He knew the answer even as the question formed in his mind. The heroin. He couldn’t be sure when Samir had first fallen under its spell, but it had been at least a year. The transformation had been subtle, starting with the weight loss and followed by the sallow look and skin infection that affected his arms and face. During that time Samir had had a couple of menial labour jobs and was now being supported by government handouts, though it wasn’t nearly enough to feed his habit. That explained the secret meeting he’d witnessed; the bundle Samir had accepted had to be payment in exchange for information about Khan.

  Aswan had tried to get his friend off the stuff, offering to go with him to a support group, but Samir had attended the first session and skipped the rest, always finding an excuse not to show. In the end, he’d given up trying, but still kept an eye out for Samir.

  Until now.

  He thought about going round to see Samir and giving him enough money for one last hit, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his concern if Samir started asking questions about the upcoming meeting. It would also put himself in jeopardy if Khan had someone else watching Samir and, given the imam’s cautious nature, that was a real possibility.

  Aswan swallowed the last mouthful and drained his drink, then walked out of the fast-food restaurant and towards the music shop.

  ‘Get down on the ground!’

  The armed police officers had appeared from nowhere, weapons pointing at his head.

  Aswan briefly considered running, but the chances of him getting more than a few feet were slim to none. Four officers were now screaming at him to drop, and he slowly raised his hands and fell to his knees before lying face down on the pavement. Two of the cops held their weapons on him while the other pair performed a perfunctory search and applied the handcuffs.

  ‘What is this?’ Aswan asked as he was hauled to his feet. ‘What’s going on?’

  The police ignored his questions and bundled him into the back of a car, then hit the sirens as it weaved its way through afternoon traffic.

  After a ten-minute dash, the driver pulled into an underground car park and stopped near an open metal door. Aswan was pulled out of the car and marched to the entrance to the building, which looked newly painted in sterile white emulsion. He was led to a cell
and forced inside, his escorts remaining silent throughout.

  As the door clanged shut, Aswan sat on the bunk that was built into the wall. It didn’t seem like any police station he’d ever been in, and the fact that he hadn’t been booked in was strange, too. He’d had a couple of run-ins with the law, once for refusing to move on when a demonstration had turned ugly and the other time for being driven in a stolen car, so he was familiar with normal police procedures.

  This was not normal.

  The cell door opened and two armed guards ushered him to his feet. They led Aswan along a corridor and pushed him into a room where a metal table took centre stage. Two chairs faced each other, and Aswan’s cuffs were removed before he was forced into the one with the leads dangling from it. He started bucking as he imagined being strapped into an electric chair, but two more guards appeared and held him down while his wrists and ankles were secured.

  ‘Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?’ Aswan shouted, but the guards ignored him and attached electrodes to his temple and arms. That done, they left the room and Aswan alone with his fear.

  He was now certain that he wasn’t in the hands of the police. If he had been, he would have expected them to read him his rights and offer access to a lawyer, but so far no-one had said a word to him. He didn’t think a phone call would be on the cards any time soon, either.

  Could these be the same people who had abducted Imran al-Hosni? Whoever they were, it smelled a lot like the security services.

  Aswan tried to think what they could possibly have on him, but nothing leapt to mind. He certainly wasn’t stupid enough to have incriminating evidence on his phone or computer, and a search of his house wouldn’t reveal anything to link him to terrorism. All they really had was the fact that he attended the same place of worship as Muhammad Khan, who was well known to the police. It certainly wasn’t enough to arrest him. Aswan felt more confident as he processed the thought.

  Then he remembered Samir. The man his friend had met at the café must have been from the police or MI5, which meant they knew about the plan to use the nerve agent. Aswan had been there the night Khan had told the small congregation about al-Hosni’s plot, which put him in a tough position. He’d known a woman who had been jailed for not alerting the authorities to her husband’s activities – some law about not informing the police about a possible terror attack. If they were going to level the same charge at him, it would be his word against Samir’s.

  Could he convince them that Samir was lying simply to feed his addiction? It was worth a try, but it would almost certainly go to trial, and convincing twelve jurors that Samir was unreliable would be difficult. In fact, if the agent were released as planned, it would prove that Samir had been telling the truth, leaving him with no defence whatsoever.

  Aswan desperately sought a way out of the mess. He could try to bluff his way through it, or come clean and help in any way he could. The former option, if it failed, would see him spend the vast majority of his life behind bars, and for what? It wasn’t as if he truly believed Khan’s rhetoric. The reason he remained loyal was down to fear of the man, not any deep belief in his teachings. He’d read enough of the Quran as a boy to know the true meaning of the scriptures, but once he’d heard Khan’s sermons, he’d soon realised that the new imam was manipulating the verses to his own ends. By the time he saw the true intent of the man, it was too late to do anything but go with the flow for fear of retribution.

  An idea formed in his head, relaxing him slightly by the time the door opened and a tall, fit-looking man entered. The newcomer took the seat opposite him.

  ‘My name’s Andrew,’ he said. ‘I want to ask you some questions about Muhammad Khan.’

  ‘Only if you tell me what organisation you’re from,’ Aswan said. ‘You’re not the police, I know that much.’

  ‘I’m with MI5.’

  Aswan sat back in his chair and exhaled loudly, hoping to give the impression that he was relieved. ‘You’re just the people I was coming to speak to.’

  The man opposite looked at him questioningly. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve got news about an attack. It’s gonna take place tomorrow.’

  ‘And when did you discover this?’

  ‘Yesterday. Khan held a meeting and told us that Imran al-Hosni has something in place. I was coming to tell you when I got arrested.’

  ‘If you heard yesterday, why didn’t you come to us sooner?’

  ‘I was scared,’ Aswan said. ‘If Khan finds out I’ve spoken to you, he’ll kill me. I need protection.’

  Andrew stared at him, and Aswan was beginning to feel like his bluff was about to be called.

  ‘Why would a man in your position suddenly decide to tell us about the attack?’

  ‘It’s the right thing to do. Khan is using Islam as an excuse to promote his own dangerous ideology. If you can protect me from him, I’ll tell you everything I know.’

  The man opposite him mulled it over for a while. ‘Okay,’ he eventually said, ‘I promise Khan will never hear about your co-operation.’

  ‘I want a guarantee, in writing.’

  ‘I can do better than that. Khan’s dead.’

  The news stunned Aswan. He wondered how it would affect his story. Would it be a benefit, or conspire against him? With Khan dead, there was no-one to contradict him, so that was a bonus.

  If his interrogator were telling the truth.

  ‘How do I know you’re not lying?’

  Andrew turned towards the large mirror on the wall. ‘Bring his phone in here.’

  The door buzzed open and a guard entered carrying Aswan’s mobile.

  ‘Free one of his arms so that he can use it,’ Andrew said, ‘but keep your gun on him.’

  Once Aswan’s right arm was unrestrained, Andrew handed him his phone. ‘Do a search for Muhammad Khan and see what comes up.’

  Aswan held the phone in his left hand while he searched online for the imam. One of the first hits was the BBC news website, and he clicked on the link to see an image of a burnt-out light aircraft. He quickly read the story, then looked up at Andrew.

  ‘How do I know you didn’t plant this so that I would believe you?’

  ‘Search again,’ Andrew told him. ‘Putting a fake story on the BBC news website would be one thing, but to get every news outlet to pick it up would be impossible.’

  That made sense. To be sure, Aswan went back to his search results and saw hundreds of listings from news organisations around the world. He went to the third page and clicked on a link. Sure enough, Khan was dead.

  ‘Tell me how it happened,’ Aswan said.

  ‘He was trying to leave the country,’ Andrew said, indicating to the guard to take the phone and restrain Aswan once more. ‘That plane was supposed to pick him up and take him to Denmark but it was shot down by the local police.’

  Aswan frowned; something didn’t add up. He recalled his last conversation with Khan, when he’d been ordered to send the text message to Samir.

  Tell him to take a seat outside. I will take care of matters once he arrives.

  If Khan intended to kill Samir, why had he tried to leave the country? It could only mean that the imam planned to have someone else deal with him. Which meant Aswan had the chance to save his friend’s life without repercussions. That was, if he could convince Andrew to take down Khan’s right-hand man.

  ‘I don’t know anything else about the attack, only that al-Hosni was going to carry it out tomorrow. But Khan had me set someone up. He’s going to be killed tomorrow, too. At lunchtime.’

  ‘Are you talking about Samir?’

  Aswan was initially taken aback, but then he remembered Samir’s meeting with the mystery man who paid him. Also MI5, as he’d suspected. Of course MI5 would know about his text message to Samir. They probably had a record of every text he’d ever sent, as well as recordings of all his conversations.

  ‘Yes, Samir. I thought Khan was going to do it personally, bu
t clearly not. The only other person I can think of is Adnan Ghulam. He does enforcement work for Khan.’

  ‘Then I think Samir’s quite safe. Ghulam killed himself today.’

  Aswan looked at his phone for a moment, then decided to believe Agent Harvey. He’d never liked Ghulam; it was a blessing that both he and Khan were dead.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘He took eight officers with him,’ Andrew added, and Aswan’s head dropped.

  ‘I’m sorry. You might still want to warn Samir, though. I could’ve been wrong about Ghulam.’

  ‘I will, but first tell me about the rest of Khan’s friends. We know Ghulam brought a nerve agent to the mosque, but the police have turned the place upside down and there’s no sign of it. Do you know who he might have given it to?’

  ‘Wait. Khan had a nerve agent?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Andrew said. ‘Al-Hosni was a decoy, designed to make us concentrate on the wrong man while Khan made his preparations, but he gave it to someone. I need to know who.’

  Aswan racked his brains. There were quite a few who associated with Khan – at least, they had before his death – but none of them seemed the kind to take part in an attack. Still, he reeled their names off, aware that someone behind the fake mirror was probably taking notes.

  ‘We’re already in the process of rounding them up, but none of them fit the profile. The youngest is in his mid-forties, whereas you’re barely into your twenties.’

  Aswan frowned. ‘You think I’ve got this nerve agent?’

  ‘You’re in the right age bracket, you’ve been one of Khan’s followers for quite a while, and after the run-around we’ve been given, it wouldn’t surprise me if this “confession” of yours is just another attempt to steer us in the wrong direction.’

  ‘So keep me here until someone else uses the stuff,’ Aswan said confidently, ‘and then you’ll see I’m innocent.’

  ‘Unless it’s set to go off remotely,’ Andrew said, his eyes fixed on Aswan’s. ‘Then you’ll be back in the frame.’