by Conrad Jones
President George Bush had been mistaken when he had pointed to Osama Bin Laden and the Islamic fundamentalist group al-Qaeda, as the architects of all terrorist destruction. It is more realistic to describe them as a small group of extremists that were bankrolled by the son of an oil millionaire, who has little support amongst the majority of Arab nations. It had been proven by the 9/11 bombers in New York, and by the 7/7 bombers in London, just what scale of destruction can be achieved. They were devastating attacks planned and executed by small independent groups of extremists, armed only with box cutter knives and homemade bombs.
There was no evil mastermind sat in a secret hide out that took control of planning every terrorist attack, only in James Bond movies do such evil masterminds exist. Yasser was a great planner, but his resources were limited. The attacks he had planned and executed in American tourist attractions had been simple but effective. All he really needed was a man or woman with enough conviction to die for their belief; the rest was cheap and simple.
Few people knew of his current plan, or its existence; he could not trust anyone with the full details of his evil plot. He had thought about his potential targets for hours and the choices were endless, shopping centres, parks, concerts and sporting events were all potential targets. His mobile bombs could wreak havoc anywhere that there were crowds of people.
He climbed back out of the van and shut the door. Two pink pigs waved at him from a decal below the handle on the door. `Pinky and Perky’ he thought they were called. He walked across the unit, passing the silent ice-cream vans that were parked there. He passed the last vehicle and stopped beside what looked like a large metal box on wheels, he lifted a stainless steel lid and the smell of old onions hit him, he lifted the lid from a second container and the smell of hot dogs drifted toward him, he opened a stainless steel door beneath the empty pans and looked inside, the storage space contained an old rusty gas bottle and some empty plastic ketchup and mustard dispensers. “Hot dog stands and ice-cream vans that explode, what a genius idea,” he thought aloud. Others would soon join the dirty old hot dog stand that stood by itself. They would be cleaned and then stripped of their innards, the old ketchup bottles replaced by a far more deadly cargo. All he needed was to pick the perfect venue. He wanted all his machines of destruction to attack simultaneously to amplify the effect of the carnage.
Yasser walked toward the front entrance of the warehouse, he unlocked the door and opened it, allowing the cold night air to rush in. He only came to see the progress that had been made at night when the unit was empty of his followers. Most of his supporters had heard a rumour that he was in the country, but only a chosen few had actually seen him, he trusted no one. He glanced over his growing fleet of ice-cream vans and smiled, the plan was progressing well. He extinguished the light, closed the unit door, and then locked it behind him. Yasser looked up at the night sky toward the full moon. About a mile away on the other side of the industrial park he saw the silhouette of a small helicopter against the silver light of the moon. He gauged it was somewhere above the area of the cold room, but he could hear no engine noise. He knew immediately that it was a spy drone. The flying machines were almost silent, unmanned and packed with high-tech surveillance equipment, they were flown by remote control and used to search for, and observe military targets. He had seen many of them flying over the mountains of Pakistan and Kashmir, searching for the hideaway of Osama Bin Laden.
A single headlight appeared on the corner close by, and he heard the high-pitched whine of a Japanese motorbike engine approaching. The rider pulled up close to the curb and put the bike onto its stand. The rider looked Yasser up and down. It had been some years since they had met in the flesh. Yasser looked good in his dark blue denim jeans, he had a simple white t-shirt beneath a tan leather jacket; the jacket matched his cowboy boots. He hadn’t put on an ounce of weight since the last time they had met, and he still wore his long hair in a bun tied tightly to the back of his head.
The bike rider turned off the engine, approached Yasser and smiled as she removed her helmet. “Yasmine, you have grown into a beautiful woman. How are you my sister?”
Yasser, you look so well! I have been so worried about you. I miss you terribly. Mustapha has left us and his faith behind, he was so upset and disturbed leaving home that he just couldn’t cope,” Yasmine blurted, only stopping for breath when Yasser placed a finger on her lips lightly. “Shush, shush, Yasmine, now is not the time, you can tell me all about it when we get to where I am staying. We have much to catch up on little one.” Yasser smiled and took the spare helmet from her. Yasmine mounted the Honda Blackbird and started the engine. Yasser climbed on behind her and clung to the bar on the back of the bike. “Where are we going to?” Yasmine shouted over the noise of the engine as she revved the machine excitedly. “Do you know your way to Anfield in Liverpool, next to the football stadium?” He asked, putting his boots up onto the foot rests. “Yes, I used to take Mustapha to watch them play when he was younger. Hold on tight it will not take us long.” Yasser looked up at the drone again. It hadn’t moved from its position above the cold room. “I think they are looking for me,” he thought aloud, smiling and pointing to the remote helicopter. They both laughed as the bike pulled away from the unit.
CHAPTER 28
Mustapha
In the seventh century AD, the Prophet Muhammad established Islam. He was believed to be the last prophet in the line that included Moses and Abraham. Within a century, Islam had conquered and spread across an area greater than the Roman Empire had been at its height. Now it remains the primary religion of the Middle East and most of North Africa, also spreading into huge parts of Asia. Major groups within Islam include the Sunnis, who constitute about ninety percent of today’s Muslims. Iraq and Iran are the homelands of the Shia Muslims, where it is the majority faith. History tells us that the two groups formed because of disputes about who the next Caliph would be early in the religions formation.
Mustapha was born and raised as a Sunni Muslim. This meant that because they lived in Iraq, he and his family were in the minority. His brother Yasser had become involved with a small group of Sunni militia whose primary aim was to protect the Sunni community from the Shia. Tribal conflicts had raged for centuries, the violence and mistrust had been passed from one generation to the next. Saddam Hussein and his ruling party mostly belonged to the Sunni Muslims. Poor policy decisions that favoured Saddam’s own people and added to their strength and wealth were met by a backlash from the Shia majority on the streets of Iraq. Small militia groups were set up to protect individual communities from religious sectarian violence. Saddam was a ruthless leader with an appalling human rights record, especially relating to the Kurdish people of the North. The Kurds themselves are the largest population of people on the planet that don’t actually have their own country.
The tribal tensions that were part of everyday life in Iraq began to boil over as the threat of an invasion loomed. The British and American forces, along with a 50,000 strong army of Iraqi Kurdish militia, invaded on March 20th 2003. Mustapha saw his brother less and less as the young political activist turned into a terrorist psychopath. Yasser’s popularity and fame became legendary in his small community, but his antics also angered the Shia militias. Mustapha and his family were in grave danger within 18 months of the invasion rule of law had ceased to exist.
Mustapha’s uncle was a schoolteacher before the invasion, but the schools had closed down soon after Baghdad fell. He had gained employment with the coalition armed forces as an interpreter. In the first three years after the invasion of Iraq, over 250 Iraqi interpreters were kidnapped tortured and killed by their own compatriots. When Mustapha’s uncle was found, he had had holes drilled into his hands and knees, his legs had been broken and he had acid poured over his face before he was finally shot in the head. Anyone who collaborated with the invading Western forces could meet a similar fate.
The days in Iraq all seemed so far away now as Musta
pha sat in an interview room on the top floor of a police station in Liverpool. He stood up and walked to the window, taking in the view of the river. He had been questioned for hours it seemed, his interrogators pressing him for as much information about Yasser and his supporters as they could. He didn’t think he had been much help really. He knew nothing of his brother’s evil plans and even less about his associates.
The door opened and the fat controller, David Bell walked in. He had a suit jacket over his white shirt and his blue tie was loosened at the collar. He carried a thick white file of papers, which he placed onto the table. “Sit down, Mustapha, please. This will not take long now. We need to put you somewhere safe for the time being. We have a safe house where you will be staying that is not far away from here. You will have two agents with you at all times. There is another thing that I need to ask you. We want your help to bring Yasser and his associates in.” The fat controller took his glasses off and cleaned them with his tie. He didn’t look at Mustapha; he left the question hanging in the air. “How can I help you to bring him in? I don’t know where he is or what he is planning to do. I don’t agree with his methods but my brother thinks he is fighting a war, Jihad. It is the policies of the American government and its lapdog allies like the British that have caused people like my brother to retaliate. He thinks that he is a freedom fighter, a soldier of god, he is very wrong in what he has chosen to do, but you need to understand the reasons why he has chosen that path. I may not agree with his actions, all life is precious to me, but I will not help you. I don’t know anything.” Mustapha stood and walked to the window again. A tall wooden sailing ship was moving slowly through the water to his left, making its way to the Albert Docks.
Mustapha thought about what he had been asked to do. He didn’t hold with the use of violence, especially when it was directed against innocent civilians. His brother was a lunatic, he knew that, but he had his beliefs. It was not that long ago when Muslims from all over the world went to Afghanistan to help the Taliban fight against Soviet invasion. The Western alliances, including Britain and the USA had armed and trained the Muslim Taliban in their struggle against the evil of communism. Now they fought against them.
France and the West had armed and backed Saddam when he fought against Iran, again the table had turned and these so-called freedom fighters were now terrorists. One man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist. His brother and people like him would not be eradicated until the causes of Islamic anger at the West’s perceived crusades into Muslim lands were removed. He hated his brother’s actions but he did not want to be involved in betraying him.
Mustapha we think that Yasser is with your sister Yasmine. She hasn’t been seen for a year now, but we think that she is here. I don’t know how she feels about your brother’s campaign but he is a very persuasive man.” The fat controller walked to the window and stood next to Mustapha. He spoke to the reflection in the window. “I understand that this is difficult for you but we think he is here to kill people. He is in possession of a large amount of Semtex explosive. We know he has been involved in the deaths of at least two men in Ireland, that we are sure of. He is planning something big Mustapha and it will involve the deaths of innocent people who don’t know anything about his Jihad, al-Qaeda, the Mujahidin, the Axe group or anybody else for that matter. Quite frankly most people don’t really give a toss, but that doesn’t mean they need to be blown to bits. Help us stop him, Mustapha, and I give you my word we will try to bring him and your sister in alive.” Mustapha thought about what the fat man had said. He was right. He was involved in this whether he liked it or not. “Yasser is a lunatic and he must be stopped,” Bell said.
What do you need me to do?” Mustapha asked with a sigh.
CHAPTER 29
The Raids / Warrington
Chen looked at the house through his night sight binoculars. The body heat scan showed that no living person was in the house; everyone had gone to work at the cold room. Chen opened the car door and gave the thumbs up signal to a man in a dark van that was parked across the road. The side door of the van slid open and four men, dressed head to toe in black exited. Each of the four men was carrying a black carbon suitcase in their hand. The men looked like modern day Ninjas as they headed toward the front door of the house where they met Chen.
Chen removed a small piece of wire from the side of his watch and inserted it into the keyhole. The lock made a clicking noise as it opened. Once inside, the four men headed upstairs and then split up into the four bedrooms. All four bedrooms were bugged in minutes. Spy cameras were fitted to lampshades or curtain rails, wherever they could be hidden. Chen moved from room to room as the surveillance team planted their equipment. He noticed that none of the rooms had beds in them, the occupants preferred to sleep on thin mattresses on the floor. The house smelled of strong cooking spices and body odour. The smell of curry had permeated through the building, tainting the fabric of the carpets and curtains with its noxious spicy scent. The content and belongings that the surveillance team searched appeared to be innocent enough.
Chen entered a room that had two mattresses on the floor. There were pictures and scriptures on the wall that appeared to be written in the Saudi dialect of Arabic. The Saudis had every reason to be angry with Western governments. When the British Army tried to suppress Iraqi rebels during its occupation of the Middle East, following the First World War, they had enlisted the help of King Ibn Saud of Hejaz. King Saud had used the British mandate to camouflage his own mission of destroying the Iraqis in the south of the country for his own end. In 1927 Britain signed the Treaty of Jeddah, recognizing the independence of Saud’s kingdom, known today as Saudi Arabia. He declared himself King and his family have ruled the country ever since, siphoning millions of pounds into personal wealth. The British government’s policy of colonisation rarely seemed to benefit those countries or their peoples.
The next bedroom that he entered had a large flag pinned up on the wall. The flag had a deep red background with one white stripe that ran diagonally across it. “What country does that flag represent?” asked a young technician. He was busy planting tracker devices in some shoes that he had found in a closet. “It’s a Padi scuba diving flag,” Chen said. “It’s used all over the world to attract scuba divers to their diving centres. Two of the men that live here are Egyptian we believe. The East coast of Egypt borders the Red Sea. The reefs there like Ras Mohammed are world famous. It’s the best scuba diving in the world. The diving schools in Sharm el Sheikh tend to use local people as instructors because they expect to be paid less than foreign instructors are. It looks like our friend here is a diver. That worries me too. Semtex is just as deadly underwater.” Chen opened another closet door and looked inside. He found what he was looking for. “There is a full set of diving equipment in here; make sure you put tracers on all of it.”
Chen walked through the other rooms and told his team to be on the lookout for any other scuba equipment. There was none. It could just be an innocent hobby, but it’s better to be safe than sorry when you work in the terrorist industry. He walked back to the scuba gear that he had discovered and picked up the wet suit. The technician had already placed a tiny transmitter in the material of the suit. It felt damp, as if it had been used recently. A chill ran through Chen as he contemplated the possible scenarios. The most likely, was the manufacture of limpet mines. Limpet mines had been used to great effect by both sides in the Second World War. It would be relatively easy to attach a large explosive device to the hull of a ship and then swim away undetected. To be successful, all that the plan would require was a target and a competent diver.
Chen called the control room of the TTF and reported his concerns. The control room would then inform the port authorities of the possible danger of terrorist attack from beneath the sea. Chen told the control room to request a copy of the port’s manifesto for the coming months. It would give them details of all the ships that were due to dock in the port and could h
elp them to identify a potential target. The docks in Liverpool were still very much a working deep-sea port. They handled millions of tons of cargo from all over the world every month. The city’s historical maritime heritage also made it a popular destination for naval events, and the armadas of ancient wooden sailing ships that competed in round the world competitions.
Chen checked his watch. The four surveillance men appeared in the hallway downstairs. They were all finished exactly on time. Chen shut the front door behind them as they left. The four men in black climbed back into the side of the dark van and the door slid closed. Chen started the engine of his vehicle and headed in the direction of the cold room distribution centre. The black van waited for him to pass by and then pulled out behind him. They were to follow the Chinese man to the cold room and set up surveillance equipment there too. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 30
The Raids / The Cold Room
Tank looked at the huge white doors of the cold room. They stood open and were held in place by a red fire extinguisher. There were long strips of clear plastic that hung from the ceiling to the floor keeping the cold air inside the huge refrigerator, and a small man in a white coat was standing next to Tank. He was shaking with fear. Ten minutes earlier Tank had arrived at the factory with forty armed agents who were dressed like Robo-cop. “Could someone tell me what this is all about? We just pack and distribute sandwiches. Is there any need for all these guns?” said the little man.