Latent Hazard

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

The commissioner looked at Rafi gravely. ‘You’re no doubt aware that the Bishopsgate bombing has robbed my force of four excellent police officers. A further three are still in intensive care. My first instinct would be to leave you with these professionals and let them break you. However, my police training and experience tell me that I need more information. I have one question.’ He carefully studied Rafi. ‘Where exactly is the USB memory stick?’

  ‘Could I use your notebook, please?’ replied Rafi.

  The commissioner unbuttoned his outside breast pocket and passed a small notebook across to Rafi, open at a blank page. A biro was attached to the side.

  Rafi gestured ‘thank you’ and carefully put the biro in his swollen right hand, hunched over the pad so that the CCTV cameras couldn’t see it and with a feat of great willpower started writing. He looked down at his scrawl, closed the pad and handed it back.

  The commissioner opened it and glanced at the page as if keeping his cards close to his chest whilst playing bridge, and replaced it into his pocket.

  Their eyes met. ‘When your analyst has the memory stick, I’d be happy to explain the contents to him,’ said Rafi.

  The scribbling in the commissioner’s notebook had caused a significant amount of consternation amongst the two MI5 officers. Andy and Mike both started to protest.

  ‘Sir,’ said Andy, ‘may we please see what Mr Khan wrote? As you know it falls under our jurisdiction.’

  The commissioner drew himself up to his full height and studied the two MI5 men carefully. ‘All in due course, gentlemen. I am conducting a murder enquiry and it is my duty to determine the validity of what Mr Kahn has written. I can assure you that the information is in safe hands. We shall discuss whatever we find as soon as it is appropriate.’

  Rafi moved his gaze from Mike’s shifty eyes, betraying a character as hard as nails, to the commissioner, who gave a totally different impression: middle-aged, smartly dressed and with a thatch of neatly combed white hair. His blue eyes didn’t have Mike’s ruthlessness; nevertheless Rafi hoped that he never crossed him.

  ‘Mr Khan. Provided you have not sent me on a wild goose chase, you can expect to see one of my team here later today. They will pick your brains, in particular on the contents of the USB stick. And be in no doubt, if they believe you’re telling lies or half-truths, Andy and Mike will be more than welcome to do whatever they like to you and then throw away the key. Whilst those who helped the Bishopsgate bomber are still at large I shall leave no stone unturned.’ With that, the commissioner stood up and left.

  The faces of the two MI5 interrogators were as black as thunder. They turned to look at one another and spoke in hushed tones.

  Rafi was escorted to his cell, a little less roughly this time. He sat down, mentally and physically exhausted. If the interviewers guessed he’d reached the end of his tether, the game was over; they could easily wangle any confession they wanted out of him. He was almost past caring. He sat on the edge of his bed and waited. Time passed slowly. Two hours later Rafi had started to worry that the commissioner had changed his mind.

  The cell door swung open.

  ‘Someone’s ’ere to see you,’ said the guard.

  Rafi was bundled into the interview room. ‘Sit! They’ll be ’ere shortly.’

  There was a knock at the door. Rafi looked up and saw the slightly nervous face of a female police inspector. She rapidly regained her composure and closed the door behind her.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Kate Adams of the City of London police.’

  She sat down, as if waiting for someone or something.

  Rafi looked carefully at the policewoman opposite him. Her wavy hair was tied back severely. It was a warm rusty colour. She had pale skin which was covered with splashes of freckles and her eyes were a deep hazel brown.

  Kate meanwhile had been trying to size up the dark, dishevelled, grubby-looking man hunched in front of her. His straight black hair was greasy and bedraggled. He looked in bad shape.

  Their thoughts were interrupted by the guard. ‘Someone else ’ere to see you.’

  A tall serious man, with strong angular features, walked into the interview room.

  ‘Mr Khan, I’m Chief Superintendent David Pryke, Detective Inspector Adams’s boss.’

  He sat next to DI Adams and nodded for her to start.

  ‘I’ve looked at the Excel files on the memory stick. Your analysis is detailed. How many companies did you start with?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Seventy-six, which I whittled down to fourteen.’

  ‘These were?’

  ‘The companies in which Prima Terra had large stakes,’ replied Rafi.

  ‘How many companies did you find with a link between Prima Terra and unknown nominee shareholders?’

  ‘Four,’ he replied.

  ‘What were the typical combined shareholding percentages?’

  ‘Between 38% and 47%’

  ‘Did you find other companies which had similar untraceable nominee shareholdings?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘As a fund manager, what would happen to your business if you were found to have breached the Blue Book, not once but four times?’

  ‘A big corporate P45 served on us by the FSA and yourselves,’ replied Rafi.

  ‘Your analysis may lead to a dead end. It seems to us that the only explanation of why anyone would want you out of the way is if you were on to something,’ observed DI Adams.

  ‘If it’s a dead end, we’ll have no compunction to let MI5 loose on you again,’ added CS Pryke, beckoning for one of those behind the one-way glass to join him.

  Andy and Mike appeared at the door.

  ‘I have a message from the commissioner. Could you ring his mobile? Here’s his number,’ said CS Pryke.

  Andy took the piece of paper and they left.

  CS Pryke said in a quiet voice, ‘We’re moving you to Wood Street police station to see if you can help us unravel this terrorist plot.’

  Rafi could not believe what he’d heard. He suddenly felt light-headed.

  Minutes later, Andy and Mike returned; they looked less than happy.

  ‘I have made the call,’ said Andy. ‘Bugger me if I didn’t find myself talking directly to the head of MI5.’

  ‘Can you repeat what he had to say?’ asked CS Pryke.

  ‘We are to let you have Mr Khan and are to arrange for a van to be waiting in the rear car park.’

  ‘You lucky little sod,’ scowled Mike.

  ‘Suppose you will want a blanket to cover Mr Khan’s head?’ said Andy as he left the room with Mike.

  The chief superintendent turned to Kate. ‘Time isn’t on our side. Transporting Mr Khan in a police car or van would attract too much attention. Mr Khan, you’ll be doing a switch with my driver. He’ll be making the journey to MI5 headquarters. You will in reality be travelling to our police station, handcuffed in the boot of my car. Any complaints?’

  Rafi shook his head, by now dumbfounded by the rapid change of events.

  The chief superintendant turned to DI Adams. ‘I’ll leave with lights and sirens blaring, and go to MI5. I’ll stay there for fifteen minutes and meet you back at Wood Street. A bit of a charade, but we can’t let anyone guess what we’re up to. Slip out quietly after I’ve left. I suggest you look like you’re going off duty. Right, let’s go.’

  CS Pryke then hesitated but soon continued, ‘Oh, sorry, I forgot to tell you part of the deal is that we get Jeremy Welby, an MI5 operative. He’ll be responsible for making sure that the interrogations – sorry – interviews are done properly. Don’t be fooled by his boyish looks. His CV is very impressive. If he isn’t waiting for you in the car park, he’ll no doubt turn up at Wood Street. Remember, we must keep Mr Khan off the radar screens. The fact that he’s not at MI5 must remain our secret. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied DI Adams.

  Rafi was handcuffed and a blanket draped over his head. DI Adams led him to the rear
car park. She opened the boot of CS Pryke’s unmarked car. ‘Climb in.’

  Rafi did as he was told. He hated confined spaces, but this one he welcomed.

  Away from prying eyes the blanket was put over CS Pryke’s driver and the switch was made.

  Part 2

  Rafi was glad that he was only 5’9" as it was a tight squeeze. His initial panic of being huddled into a small space had soon disappeared. The claustrophobic boot was definitely better than facing Mike and Andy.

  Their arrival at the City of London police headquarters in Wood Street was low-key. Kate parked in the covered rear car park. Rafi was sound asleep when she opened the boot.

  The rocking motion of the car had lulled him into a deep sleep. He heard a woman’s voice saying, ‘Wake up,’ and felt his body being shaken and prodded.

  ‘Christ, I thought you were unconscious and for a horrible moment that you’d been asphyxiated. Roll over and let me take your handcuffs off,’ said Kate. ‘In case you have any ideas let me point out that this is a secure compound. You are going to cooperate, aren’t you?’

  Rafi nodded. ‘Sorry to have scared you,’ he mumbled. ‘I haven’t had any sleep for a couple of days. I could have slept in a dustbin and not given it a second thought.’

  With the blanket draped over his head, Rafi was hurried though the back door by Kate. They made their way up the back stairs to a modestly sized office on the fourth floor.

  ‘This is where I work. Let me introduce you to Detective Constable Emma Jessop – my ever-helpful sidekick,’ said Kate.

  Rafi looked across the room and saw a beautiful woman sitting behind a computer screen. She had a mop of curly fair hair, light brown eyes and a disarming smile.

  Kate surveyed Rafi carefully. ‘First we need to get some ground rules sorted out. You are to remain with us until this is all over. You will keep a low profile. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re being held by MI5. In the meantime Emma and I will try and make your stay here as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rafi replied.

  ‘I think we need to get you cleaned up. A shower and a shave wouldn’t go amiss,’ said Kate.

  Rafi stroked his left hand over the beginnings of a beard.

  ‘Would you like a coffee and something to eat?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Yes please,’ Rafi replied in a hoarse voice. ‘And some water, please?’

  Emma smiled, ‘Thirsty, are we?’

  Rafi nodded. He was badly dehydrated; he hadn’t peed for probably twenty-four hours.

  Emma left the room and returned a couple of minutes later with a bottle of chilled water and a can of cold Coke. ‘I thought that this might keep you going.’

  He was going to like working with Emma.

  ‘What do I call you two?’ Rafi asked.

  The two women looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘Kate and Emma would be fine, Mr Khan,’ replied Kate.

  ‘Rafi, please.’

  ‘Done!’

  The phone rang. Kate picked it up and listened intently.

  ‘That was the commissioner. It seems Special Branch downstairs have found an eyewitness who was standing behind you in the queue at the cashpoint. She confirmed that you put your cash straight into your wallet. It seems she was amazed to see so much money coming out of the machine and didn’t believe it would fit! Also, she overheard your conversation with the terrorist, during which you simply gave him directions and handed him his A to Z back. This substantiates your claim that you were an innocent bystander and therefore we are going to give you the benefit of the doubt and treat you as a colleague. MI5 have arranged for Jameel Furud to be put under surveillance.’ Kate paused, then went on, ‘Mr Kahn – sorry – Rafi, please use only those parts of the police station we tell you to. Be aware, if you are uncooperative we reserve the right to hand you back to MI5. Understood?’

  Rafi nodded.

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Kate left the room, leaving Rafi to enjoy his drink. He looked around his new surroundings and found them to be typical of an old style office building: plain and functional.

  Kate returned clutching a pair of dark blue tracksuit trousers, some white jogging shorts, a pair of white socks and a Harlequins rugby shirt with the number 14 on the back.

  ‘Best I could find but at least they’re clean. I hope that they fit.’ In her other hand was a large white towel and a bottle of shampoo. ‘Sorry I couldn’t lay my hands on a razor,’ she added.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Rafi, ‘my wrist isn’t up to shaving.’

  ‘Follow me,’ said Kate.

  Rafi was taken off to a utilitarian washroom with an adjoining shower cubicle. ‘I’ll come back and get you in fifteen minutes,’ said Kate.

  Rafi beckoned her to stay. ‘Actually could I possibly have some help, please? I’m having problems getting my shirt off!’

  ‘That’s one of the worst chat-up lines I’ve ever heard,’ Kate said with a smile.

  Rafi hesitantly unbuttoned his shirt with his left hand and she helped him slide it off.

  There was silence. She stood there, looking at his back. ‘I’m sorry . . . I didn’t realise. How the hell did you cope in the boot of the car? The bottom of your back looks as if it stopped a runaway train, and your shoulder is a hideous mixture of black and blue. Bloody hell, your arm looks awful too.’

  ‘You should see my legs.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me!’ Kate turned to leave. ‘Please lock the door when I’ve gone.’

  Rafi stepped slowly into the shower and stood under the flowing water, still holding the cold water bottle in his left hand. The warmth of the shower and the ice cold of the drinking water were pure bliss.

  He had no idea how long he’d been there when there was a knock at the door. It was Kate. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes. Give me a moment.’ At the third attempt he managed to wrap the towel around his waist with his left hand. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Kate in; she was clutching a first aid box.

  ‘I thought this might come in handy. Your bruises look horrific, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for them. She started to work on the grubby wet Elastoplast support. There was gauze underneath the sticky plaster bandage on his wrist, which made removing it an uncomplicated task. She cleaned his arm.

  Kate considered the swelling; his wrist was at least twice its normal size. The angry colours of the bruise spread up his arm to his elbow and down to his fingertips. They matched the bruises on his shoulder, lower back and calf. She glanced at his wet hirsute chest. His physique, for a lightly built man, was surprisingly good, but – my God – he had taken a battering.

  ‘Do you have any water left?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You might like to take a couple of these. They’ll ease the pain.’

  She carefully restrapped his wrist. There was no gauze in the first aid kit. She hoped she wouldn’t be the one to take the sticky plaster off. ‘Would you like a sling?’

  Rafi shook his head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks; I have some writing to do.’

  Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Forgive me for asking, but how precisely do you propose to hold a pen?’

  ‘With difficulty,’ came the modest reply. ‘Could I ask you a favour, please?’ said Rafi.

  Kate noticed he’d started to blush.

  ‘I’m not very good at bending down at the moment and my right hand doesn’t like gripping things. If I move over to a dry bit of the floor could you help me with my shorts and tracksuit trousers up to my knees?’

  Kate pointed to a spot not two metres away.

  Trousers and shorts in hand, Rafi walked slowly to the spot and dropped the two items of clothing on to the floor. It was a close-run thing between his towel unknotting and slipping down, and the shorts and trousers being pulled up.

  Kate had to smile to herself. She liked what she saw, despite the bruises.

  Minutes later Rafi was fully dressed, hair combed and looking and smelling
like a normal human being. He ached all over and felt desperately tired, but was much better equipped to meet the world again.

  Back in Kate and Emma’s office he was shown to his desk. ‘This part of the fourth floor is your home for the foreseeable future,’ explained Kate. The Gents across the corridor is for now off bounds to the rest of the force here. That’s as far as you can go, understood? If you need to go elsewhere, please ask.’

  Rafi nodded.

  Kate looked carefully at him. ‘Giles, the commissioner, thinks it’s best if your presence here remains our secret. Please bear in mind that Emma and I lost a good friend in the Bishopsgate bombing and our colleagues may not be as welcoming.’ She hesitated, ‘We look forward to your earnest cooperation.’

  Rafi looked at Kate. ‘I am so sorry about your colleague. Believe me, I want these bastards caught as much as you do.’ He paused then continued, ‘I need another favour, please.’

  She looked a little nonplussed.

  ‘On the basis of me being innocent, could you check that MI5 hasn’t arrested my sister, and if they have arrange for her release.

  ‘I’ll ask Jeremy Welby to sort something out as soon as he gets here,’ replied Kate.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Rafi was given a desk opposite Kate’s. Across the room, to his left, was Emma and to his right there were a large whiteboard and a pair of empty desks positioned back-to-back. Scattered around the room were a number of filing cabinets and a networked printer next to Emma’s desk. The room had a lived-in feel. Paperwork was everywhere.

  Kate looked across at Emma. ‘I think we need to tidy up. Any empty filing cabinet drawers?’

  Emma nodded. ‘OK, let’s collect all the paperwork that doesn’t relate to this case and for the time being put it in the empty drawers.’

  Fifteen minutes later the room had taken on a minimalist look.

  ‘Nice work,’ said Rafi to them both.

  ‘Yep; now we can make a start by looking properly at your USB memory stick. But first let me tell you more about the team you’ll be working with. This is Emma, who you have already met. She got a first in something or other highly numerical from Imperial College and is great at finding things out. Point her in the right direction and wait to see what she uncovers. She’s our little Exocet missile. Before she joined us, she qualified as an accountant, so knows her way around things financial. Then we have Jeremy Welby who is being seconded here from MI5 to keep an eye on you and, no doubt, us and to help where he can, but otherwise I know very little about his previous experience.’