‘Good luck,’ Kate shouted, as we stepped onto the helipad. ‘We’ll have gone viral by the time you get back.’
As we sprinted down the Embankment towards the tube station, I had only one thought in mind. Everything had gone so right but an explosion now, however small and however little damage it did, would ruin everything. Worse still, every single member of the so-called Saxon Network would end up with a share of the blame for not warning the police in time.
While Chunk bought us underground tickets, I called Tim and Rachel on the Loop. Tim answered but not Rachel.’
She’s with the local Chief Superintendant now,’ Tim said, ‘Her own boss has been on with the Chief Constable. They’re holding Vossler and the whole group but no-one knows what the hell to make of it all. I told Rachel to warn them about the tube station. Be quick, the Met should have a task force there any minute.’
The timing was very close. We had just managed to get inside the barrier when there was an announcement over the loudspeakers. It said that the station was having to close for technical reasons and trains were being suspended until further notice. There was no cause for alarm, but passengers were advised to leave the station as quickly as possible and assemble on the embankment. Arrangements for onward travel by bus were being made.
We ran down escalator to the main Jubilee Line platform and Elbow met us at the bottom.
‘Nothing unusual at all,’ he said, ‘we’ve got the ID pictures. There’s no sign of any of them.’
The loudspeaker announcement was repeated and the station indicator boards all went blank. It was this, more than the announcement, that seemed to draw the last reluctant passengers towards the exits. Up till then, many had stayed on the platforms hoping to get on a last train before the closure was complete.
We fanned out again. The crowds had virtually dispersed. Then suddenly we heard the sound of an underground train approaching the platform. It was moving very slowly, almost inching its way towards the platform. From behind me, I heard a voice booming through an electronic loud-hailer.
‘Armed police. Everybody down on the ground.’
There were only a few of us on the platform but we had no choice but to obey. I felt utterly powerless for the first time since the operation had begun. Whatever happened now was out of my hands.
As I dropped to the platform, beside Chunk, I saw a figure in the cab of the train, standing beside the driver, a gun to his head. It was one of the Iranians. It was their leader, Colonel Ghassemi.
At first, the platform doors didn’t open and the train remained stationery, its doors closed also.
I raised my head just enough to see into the compartment. Slumped in a seat just behind the driver’s cab was Dale Metzik, the American handler. He had been shot in the chest and was clearly dead.
Slowly the doors of the train opened and the matching doors on the platform opened with them
‘Everyone stay where you are,’ boomed through the police loud-hailer. No-one moved except for the Iranian who dragged the driver out of the cab and into the main compartment. Slowly he propelled him towards the open door.
‘Armed police. Throw down your weapon.’
The Iranian looked around the platform, calmly assessing the situation. He looked around a second time, judging the odds, then slowly lowered the pistol from the driver’s head and put the weapon down on the floor beside him.
I was poised ready to rush into the compartment with the police when I felt powerful hands grab me from behind and a voice said ‘John Saxon, I’m arresting you on suspicion of terrorist activities,’ and I was read my rights.
Chapter 27
They kept me in an isolation cell at West End Central police station for four hours. I wasn’t processed at the desk, except to have my belt and shoes taken away. I wasn’t interviewed and I wasn’t offered a phone call. At about four o’clock I was given a cup of tea and a stale bacon sandwich. Then I was left to fume quietly and wonder whether everything was lost. I imagined Vossler and his crew being released and allowed to fly to the States. I imagined the Iranians arrested and a huge diplomatic row breaking out with Teheran, while Israel and its supporters geared up for a military strike.
In the end, none of this happened, but I didn’t find out what had gone on during the night until my cell door opened shortly after eleven o’clock and I was escorted to an interview room. There I found one of the most reassuring sights I have ever seen: my solicitor, Sir Alastair Stewart. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a navy-blue lightweight suit, his grey hair elegantly trimmed by Trumpers, his manner urbane, friendly and relaxed. Alastair had one of the sharpest intellects I had ever encountered. Right from our first meeting two years before, I had decided to trust him and he was the only person who knew everything about both my past life and my BBC one.
‘Am I getting out?’ I asked, when we had shaken hands.
‘Not quite yet, John, I’m working on it.’
‘Who told you I was in here?’
‘Chunk called me at about two this morning.’
‘Has he been arrested?’
‘No. He was questioned and held only briefly then someone called Hereford and he was summoned by his Commanding Officer. He’s there now. Before he left, he called me.’
‘What about Vossler?’
‘He’s under arrest. So is everyone you caught in that amazing Tiger Trap of yours.’
Alastair saw my look of relief and added quickly, ‘that’s not to say all is well. They’re holding them all but no-one knows what to do with them and no-one’s happy. The American Embassy is in quiet meltdown. Your pictures have, as they say, gone viral with something over two million hits and rising every minute. The story has been picked up by the media all over the world and, by and large, everyone’s getting it right. Vossler and his crew are being blamed for conspiring to commit an act of terrorism in London and have Iran falsely blamed for it.’
‘What about the Iranians? What’s being said about last night in the tube?’
Alastair paused. ‘There were no Iranians in the tube last night.’ He smiled. ‘At least that’s the official version. No Iranians and no canister of bubonic plague.
‘Officially, there was a murder on the Jubilee line. An American was shot dead and a man of Arab appearance was arrested.’
‘Have they named Dale Metzik?’
‘No. He was carrying identity documents in the name of Egon Reynolds. That’s the name that has been given out.’
‘What about Ghassemi? Has he been charged with the murder?’
‘No. He denies killing Metzik. He’s made a statement and as far as the police have been able to reconstruct events, he seems to be telling the truth.
‘He says that when they arrived in London from Paris, Metzik told the Iranians they were going on a dry run to scout the attack location. Ghassemi claims that without telling anyone, Metzik took a small canister of bubonic plague germs with him in a backpack. There was an explosive charge attached and Ghassemi says Metzik was planning to land the Iranians with it, then get the hell out.’
‘And the Iranians rumbled him?’
‘They are professionals. They know a botch-up when they see one and they know all about scapegoating. One of them shot Metzik and two of them ran off at the next station but Ghassemi couldn’t get out in time. In the panic, someone sounded the alarm and Ghassemi took the driver hostage and forced him to drive on to Westminster. The Transport Police called in the Met. The anti-terrorist squad was on its way already. Of course, Ghassemi says they knew nothing about the germs beforehand.’
‘Have they got the other two Iranians?’
‘No. Not yet. Ghassemi is being held on a charge of carrying an unauthorised weapon and threatening the guard.’
‘Did they find the germ canister in Metzik’s backpack?’
‘The police aren’t saying but I’m sure they did.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘That depends partly on you. That’s one reas
on you’re still in here.’
‘They want me to lie about the Iranians?’
Alastair smiled. ‘No, it’s far too late for that. Their names are all over the Internet, with pictures of them in the Bahamas talking to the scientist who developed the Bubonic Plague strain. No, the issue is whether the conspirators ever got as far as carrying out the attack in the tube station.
‘There is a choice. Either the story can end with a vehicle upended in a forest in Kent and the conspiracy thwarted or you and Chunk can allege that the attack almost took place and bubonic plague germs came within an inch of being released on one of London’s busiest underground stations.
‘You can imagine which version the police and the government want and, as far as I can see, that version suits your interests better too. If it gets out that Vossler’s man was in the tube together with the both germs and the Iranians, then Vossler will have achieved a considerable victory and the anti-Teheran thing will start up despite all you’ve achieved.’
‘Has Chunk said anything?’
‘No. Before he left for Hereford he was reminded that he had signed the official secrets act and that it would be wise not to add more breaches than he has committed already.’
‘Have you seen Virginia yet? I asked. ‘Is she the one wanting to cover up the tube business? Is she making this part of our deal?’
‘Please John, you know me better than that. Obviously Virginia doesn’t want the public to know what happened last night, but the Met are driving this. The last thing they want is a terrorist germ attack scare in London a week before the Jubilee. They’re stretched to the limit already.’
‘Then, I’m happy for the story to end in Kent,’ I said.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Definitely. There’s no point in creating a bigger scare than there’s been already. I can’t prove what happened in the tube and any allegations I make will only help Ray Vossler.’
‘Good,’ Alastair said, ‘that’s one issue out of the way. Now we have to sort out your deal with Virginia.’
‘Is she going to try to welsh on it?’
‘She says not.’
Alastair took a sip of water from the flask on the table.
‘But?’ I prompted.
‘She says she’s ready to settle everything but she keeps stalling. I’m not quite sure why yet.’
‘You have everything I gave you. The details of the way she screwed Wilshaw.’
‘Of course.’
‘Then why don’t you call her and say my patience is exhausted and I want to see her now.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Alastair picked up his briefcase. ‘But don’t worry, I will get you out of here before too long one way of the other.’
When Alastair had gone, I was given another cup of tea and a completely tasteless dish of rice with some kind of indeterminate meat. I waited for an hour, then a police chief inspector came – the first senior officer I had spoken to. He introduced himself and told me that Mrs Virginia Walsh was here to see me with a solicitor, Mr Ben Wedmore. But, he said, my solicitor, Sir Alastair Stewart, had telephoned to say he was delayed. Mrs Walsh was very annoyed and didn’t want to wait. Was I willing to see her straightaway?
I answered that I wouldn’t see Mrs Walsh under any circumstances without my solicitor present and then I sat for an hour wondering why Alastair was late and whether Virginia’s patience would hold out.
In the end, the meeting did take place. Sir Alastair arrived, urbane as ever, apologised briefly and introduced himself to Wedmore. Virginia could barely contain her annoyance but finally she managed to control it and she opened the meeting.
‘I’m sorry it was necessary to arrest you,’ she said,’ but you did bring it on yourself, I’m sure you see that.’
I could see we were in for the usual Virginia power trip but I let her continue.
‘I think we can go to straight to the main item,’ she said, addressing Alastair not me, ‘the re-assessment of the circumstances surrounding John’s departure from the Security and Intelligence Service.’
‘Virginia,’ I interrupted quietly, ‘can we please skip the bullshit. You can use terms like re-assessment in your own meetings if you like. Here I’d prefer plain speaking.’
Using her technique, I spoke to Wedmore not to her.
‘I want you to hand over to Sir Alastair, all the documents contained in what I know you refer to as the Saxon file,’ I said. ‘It must contain all and I mean all the evidence you have which exonerates me in the death of the Italian officer, Lieutenant Caprari. I know you have enough to clear me totally. I won’t settle for less.’
‘We can do that,’ Wedmore said, ‘but Mrs Walsh wishes to place on record that the evidence which apparently incriminated you in the first place came from Ray Vossler and the Italian authorities. They appear to have been in unfortunate collusion on this matter.’
I smiled. ‘Mrs Walsh can place on record whatever she wishes. It doesn’t change the reality. However, I also want a written undertaking that all the information you have on Ali Omar’s involvement in the rape and murder of my wife will be passed both to the Crown Prosecution Service here and the Italian authorities.’
I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Any prosecution could only take place in Rome and we would all be white-haired before the Italian authorities would move on it.
‘That is also agreed,’ Wedmore said, knowing equally well the futility of the gesture.
‘You have everything you want, John, including hero status in cyberspace. I hope you are satisfied,’ Virginia said with her familiar sneer.
‘No, I said, ‘I’m not satisfied. I want undertakings that no action will be taken against anyone who helped me expose this conspiracy.’
Wedmore coughed and opened his briefcase.
‘Before we get onto that, Mrs Walsh has asked me to raise one more issue,’ Wedmore said smoothly. ‘She has asked me to thank you for bringing new information to her attention concerning another matter from the past. I understand that in the course of your investigation you informed her of certain injustices apparently done to a Mr. Robert Wilshaw.’
I watched Virginia’s smile of triumph forming on her lips and I knew what was coming.
‘Mrs Walsh has brought Mr Wilshaw’s plight to the attention of the appropriate department,’ Wedmore went on, ‘he is to have his pension restored and a substantial lump sum paid to compensate for lost benefits. Mr Wilshaw is very grateful to both you and Mrs Walsh for settling his problem.’
So that was the catch. That was why she had been stalling. Virginia had outmanoeuvred me. I no longer had the stronger hand in my personal war with her and I knew what was coming next.
‘There are going to be some problems with protecting your colleagues, John,’ Virginia said. ‘I will do my best, of course, to look after your so-called Network but a lot of rules have been broken and some of their actions may be difficult to overlook, particularly in the case of Chief Inspector Rachel Hunter.’
Sir Alastair, who knew all the background and fully understood the coded messages that had just been exchanged, leaned forward in his chair.
‘Mrs Walsh, Mr Wedmore, if I could just intervene at this point. We must certainly discuss the question of protecting John’s friends, but I‘ve been approached by a Mr Cronin. He has some information relevant to these issues and he would like to talk to you, Mrs Walsh.’
Virginia blustered and protested that whatever Bob Cronin had to say could not be relevant. Alastair listened and said simply. ‘Mrs Walsh, I have spoken to Mr Cronin at some length and I do believe it would be in your interest to take the meeting. He is waiting at the Burberry Hotel. It’s very close.’
I had no idea what was going on but I trusted Alastair completely. Virginia protested again but in the end she agreed that my release could be processed and I was signed out of the police station with as little ceremony as I was signed in.
We found Bob in the hotel lounge. He was in a wheelchair parked in
a corner, surrounded by palms. He had in his hand what looked like a gin and tonic and he looked extremely relaxed.
‘Hello Virginia,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Thanks for agreeing to see me.’
He looked at Sir Alastair and Wedmore. ‘I think Virginia would rather we chatted unofficially.’
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, interfering in official matters,’ Virginia snapped when Sir Alastair and Wedmore had left the lounge.
‘I’ve been talking to some old friends,’ Cronin said, ‘you see, I actually do have friends again since yesterday. It’s amazing how quickly things change.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Then I’ll try to explain it nice and simply,’ Cronin said, propelling his wheelchair imperceptibly closer to Virginia to emphasise the point.
‘My old friends told me, Virginia, that you know you daren’t try to get at John while he’s a national hero but you plan to satisfy your mean streak by taking it out on his friends.
‘Now I’m not too worried about the SAS guys. The C.O. down at Hereford has enough common sense to make up his own mind and Birdy’s got broad shoulders and good connections but Rachel Hunter is something else. Word is you plan to let the Police Commissioner hang her out to dry.’
‘That’s a decision for the Metropolitan Police. I can’t influence them.’
‘Well Virginia, I would very much like you to try.’
‘Or what?’ Virginia said suspiciously.
Cronin didn’t answer the question directly.
‘I’ve been talking to old friends in Washington as well as London. I’m sure you’ve figured out that Ray Vossler has a lot of enemies on the Hill as well as friends. What’s happened here has allowed the enemies to declare open season on his money-laundering activities. Seems likely the Senate Finance Committee will hold a hearing. If they do, I’m going to be asked to suggest names of possible associates who should be investigated.’
The Saxon Network Page 24