The Home Secretary came back to sit at the table, silencing her aide with a sideways glance.
“A final question… If we agree the exchange, how soon can we proceed?”
“Once we have a deal, within 24 hours. Everything’s in place and we are prepared to offer a location for the exchange that will be acceptable to IS.”
“That is settled … do it. Two women.” The Home Secretary gathered her papers together and replaced them in a folder marked FOR YOUR EYES ONLY/SIS.
Sir John thanked her. As they stood up to leave the room, her aide took the folder and started a low-voiced conversation with her.
“Harris…” She stood on the threshold of the meeting room, her face turned away from her aide. “Good luck.”
Harris nodded and took his time leaving the reception area. The Home Secretary’s aide had retraced his steps. Harris dived into an empty meeting room. The aide walked past him without noticing. He was in a hurry. At the end of the corridor a silhouette moved towards him. Harold Colmore MP was coming his way, more determined than a dog with a bone.
* * *
The first call to prayer echoed around Raqqa. Henry rolled out of bed, washed quickly and joined the stream of other fighters moving towards the hotel mosque. A pair of crutches and a smile caught up with him. Ali had made it to the ground floor.
“How’s your new room?” Henry smiled back.
“Great.” Ali threw his thumbs up, almost losing balance in the process. “I owe you one.”
Henry nodded and they entered the prayer room together. Fajr lasted only a few minutes and both men moved slowly to the lounge. There would be nothing consumed now until after dusk, but it was good to sit in this comfortable place. Henry scanned the room quickly… Wasim had not come down for prayer.
“You might be able to help. I’m looking for a new truck, something much better than what I have now. Perhaps one of the trucks that the fighters took to Mosul.”
“No problem.” Ali’s constant use of English sounded out of place, perhaps even provocative, but Henry enjoyed it and replied gratefully.
Henry walked through the large reception area, into the gardens, and found a quiet area underneath a cedar tree. He sat on the ground and took his mobile out.
“Any news?” The fixer had answered almost instantly.
“The UK has agreed to ask for the release of two women.”
“Much better…” Henry picked up a stone and threw it at a large fly that had landed on the dry grass near him. “These dogs are running scared.”
“They are, Abu Shabh… and they are running very quickly. I thought I would have to negotiate a lot harder.”
“Let us be grateful for the might of the caliphate.”
“Of course, praise Caliph Ibrahim.”
“Go back to them and tell them we’re thinking about their offer.”
Henry killed the call and smiled. Whoever was listening to his phone could not have faulted the rhetoric of his replies. Perfect as a way of buying him more time.
His next call was to Hamza. The young man was surprised to hear Henry. His voice betrayed irritation and something Henry was not expecting… fear. Henry asked him to check whether The Treasurer was busy. Yes, he was. Could he please leave a message for him to call back? Henry asked about their latest plan regarding the routing of oil through Jordan, the movement in oil prices. Hamza’s responses were curt. Henry kept going, determined to find out why this was.
“I have done all we have spoken about.” The wobble in Hamza’s voice encouraged Henry.
“But we need to start showing results. Let’s push to make sure we exceed $1 million a day.”
“Why don’t you come to the office and I can show you all that I have done.” Hamza sounded keen.
“I will, later.” Henry pondered. Hamza did not want to be heard speaking to him.
The phone rang again and this time The Treasurer was calling back. “Salaam alaikum.”
“Alaikum as salaam.”
“The UK government has agreed to drop their requirements for a male hostage. They are trying for a second female hostage instead.”
“What do you think?”
“We could probably succeed with only one hostage, the female journalist, but it will take more time. Abu Maeraka is a loss to our cause. His liberation would be one more success for Caliph Ibrahim.” Henry squeezed the phone hard. If only he could save just one more person.
“I will think about it. Let us not be too hasty about making our next move.”
“A very wise decision.”
After he had hung up Henry threw the phone into his rucksack. He wished he could have simply smashed it on the ground.
Fighters had started to drift into the hotel gardens and these would soon be mobbed by a crowd he did not want to mix with. Henry waited for a moment and stood up. He lifted his head towards the rooms that he and Wasim occupied. He had not heard him get up. Henry started walking towards the lounge again, rode the lift to floor 5 and jogged to reach Wasim’s room. He knocked… no answer. He entered his own bedroom, vaulted over the small partition wall separating the terraces of their rooms and tried to look through the window. The curtains were still open. Wasim had not been back since they had returned from their evening investigation. Henry knocked at the window. Unsurprisingly, there was no reply.
Henry returned to his room and sat on the bed. A trickle of cold sweat ran along his spine. Something had happened. He had to find out what without sounding alarmed.
Henry went down again, walked around the lobby, hung around the lounge, and surveyed the gardens one more time. No one around he recognised. The truck was still parked where they had left it the previous evening. Wherever he was going Wasim had gone on foot. The obvious place was the tearoom a few blocks from Malahi Avenue. Henry jumped into the truck and drove slowly in that direction. He had no plan, no clear idea as to what to do. The environment felt so much more hostile without someone as experienced as Wasim at his side.
Henry reached the tearoom. He stopped opposite and watched for a short while. It was too early for any sign of activity. No one would be coming to enjoy a tea and a gossip until after dusk and it was way too early for an internet session… the tea rooms now, no longer serving tea, would not be opened for a while. Henry got out of the truck, crossed the street and walked past the shop. The only sign of life was an old man sitting on the terrace. He looked straight ahead, leaning slightly over a stick that looked as old as he was, his fingers going through his prayer beads in a slow yet rhythmic motion. Henry walked past again and realised the old man was almost certainly blind… thick cataracts casting a shadow over his eyes.
Henry sat down a few chairs away. “Salaam alaikum.”
The old man nodded. “Alaikum as salaam.”
“The tearoom is not open?”
The old man shook his head, not bothering to face Henry.
“Do you sit here every day?”
Again a nod.
“Until late… until it shuts?”
The old man nodded again.
“Something unusual happened last night?”
The old man stayed silent for a long moment. Henry was about to leave; perhaps the old man was not entirely with it. “They took him away.”
“Who?” Henry shot back, but the old man did not say more.
Henry ran across the road and climbed into the truck. There was only one place where they would have taken Wasim.
* * *
“Rise and shine. I have some bad news for you.” Ahmed’s call felt like a cold shower. Amina sat up in bed, glancing at the clock. It was barely 6am.
“What have you found out?” Her mouth felt dry and she drank from the water bottle that she always kept at the side of her bed.
“I’m glad your brain can engage so quickly.”
“M
y brain is fine… What have you found out?” She was out of bed, hopping around the room trying to get dressed as she spoke to him.
“That domain you wanted to trace… It’s using a succession of VPNs that bounce around the world and it finishes with a TOR.”
“Can you crack the TOR encryption?”
“Possibly, but that’s going to take some time and we must be careful not to make whoever is at the other end aware that we’re trying to nail him… it will take a few days at least, maybe more.”
“Shit… I’ll be with you in 15 minutes.” Amina hung up, brushed her teeth quickly and forgot about make-up. There was something to be said about living next to Vauxhall Cross, no matter what her ex-husband thought.
Ahmed had brought two strong cups of coffee and presented her with one as she walked through the door of his small office. He had activated the large screen on which a series of boxes had been highlighted over a map of the globe.
“Someone has put in a lot of time and effort to hide this address. It starts with a simple VPN, in case someone becomes too curious and does a check… but then goes no further. You need to dig a lot deeper to find the TOR. Whoever it is knows what they’re doing and they’re good.”
“It’s the sort of set-up used for surveillance and analysis.” Amina was not asking. She was taking in the enormity of the discovery.
“If you’re worried about these people cracking the code embedded into the website used for your assets on the ground, you should be. Although I’m not certain they would have had the time to do it so quickly.”
“But they have gone through our messages and realised that we too are using a TOR.”
Ahmed nodded. “Definitely.”
Harris was on his way when she got hold of him.
“Someone is tracking MOTHER’s conversations with Wasim.” There was no other way of breaking the news.
“Have they broken our code yet?”
“No, but it’s only a question of time.”
“Fuck.” Harris didn’t even feel like having a smoke. “I’ll speak to The Chief, we need to accelerate the exchange.”
“What about Wasim and Henry?” Amina’s face had grown paler.
“I’m aware… And I’m working on a plan. In the meantime, tell Wasim they’ve been busted. We need to move to the emergency protocol.”
“You mean placing a call on Crowne’s phone?”
“If that’s what it takes…”
Harris left for Sir John’s office without calling first. Even in his overflowing diary, his PA would find a slot.
* * *
“How quickly before we know the location?” Harris and Sir John had moved to Level -2 to discuss the latest development.
“I don’t know yet.” Sir John’s tight jaw could hardly let a sound through.
“And the timescale?”
“I’ve not been told either since it is a US operation. The Home Secretary informed me simply because she’s concerned; we have assets on the ground.”
Harris moved to the digital map of Syria and Iraq. He highlighted three cities.
Raqqa.
Mosul.
Aleppo.
“Assuming the Yanks go through within the next few days…” Harris moved closer to the map.
“You think they have a SEAL team there already?”
“They have SEALs and Delta Forces in Iraq still… These teams will be operational as soon as they are given the order.”
“On the base of what intel though?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I’m pretty sure that Colmore would have given them as much as he knew himself. We know the hostages were moved a few days ago. I called Jack at Langley again. A couple of French hostages have been released. Perhaps they were able to help.”
Sir John approached the map too. “Whatever the outcome, IS will suspect there’s a leak. The hostages have recently been moved… They’ll want to find someone to blame.”
“This is compounding the issue I highlighted to you earlier… The team on the ground in Raqqa is no longer viable.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We are moving to our emergency protocol. This means less communication with the team.”
“We have already agreed the hostage exchange.”
“But we have not received an answer yet. Whatever happens, we also need to think extraction… soon.”
Sir John crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you’re right… Options?”
“Two ways… The more obvious, Aleppo… but it means travelling through well-established IS territory. The second way…” Harris had moved closer to the map, looking for the town he had in mind.
“Come on, Steve… I’m not going to get pissed off even if it is unconventional.”
“They move inland, reach the Kurdish Territory.” Harris was tracing the route with his fingers on the map. “From there they move to Al-Hasakah on the Turkish border and are extracted through there.”
“Is that a well-known route?”
“Not for people but for art trafficking.”
“That’s a very different ball game though.” Sir John frowned.
“But if the price is right…”
Sir John looked sceptical. He had not yet been told about a price. Before he could respond, his phone rang. He picked it up and listened to the voice at the other end without saying anything. He chucked the phone on the table where it slid perilously near the edge.
“The window’s narrowing… Extraction has to take place in the next 24 hours…”
Harris nodded slowly. He knew what this meant for his assets on the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It took Henry less than 15 minutes to reach Raqqa Stadium. He stopped the truck and sat in it for a while. He checked his mobile: not yet 8am.
The guards at the only entrance that was still open looked young and yet full of assurance. They were not new recruits. Henry fingered the piece of paper The Treasurer had handed him. It was the only ace he had to play. It would have to do.
Henry parked the truck a few blocks away from the stadium entrance and walked casually along the road, checking the door handles of cars. If he was to play Mr Big he had to present himself at the gates with the right motor. Much to his surprise, a couple of new SUVs had their doors open. Perhaps losing a hand or worse did the trick to dissuade thieves from stealing from ISIL fighters. What about borrowing? He hoped he would not have to find out.
Henry drove to the gates of the stadium. He pulled the dark window down and asked to be let in.
“I am here to interrogate a man that was brought in last night… Wasim Khan.” Henry was glad he had chosen to dress in his black shirt and headscarf. The only part missing was a weapon but there was nothing he could do about it. He handed over the letter from The Treasurer. Both men took a look at the piece of paper. It looked official enough. One of the guards grabbed his walkie-talkie and walked away from earshot.
He returned the official paper to Henry. “You have to come back. The prison is closed.”
“No, I will not.” Henry had spoken without anger. He was a senior member of The Treasurer’s team. He would not be made to come back. “I will disturb Abu Hamia if need be, but I will not be made to come back.” Henry took his phone out. His fingers scrolled down what looked like a list of names. He was poised to press on one of them.
The guard’s close face looked a little less assured. He used the walkie-talkie again without bothering to walk away this time. Henry made a quick move of the hand, wanting the guard to hand over the device. He shook his head and killed the conversation.
“As an exception, you can go in.”
Henry eased the SUV through the gates. He parked next to the broad steps that led to the stadium. He walked in and reached another set of guards. He showed his paper again but this
time he was escorted towards steps that led into the cool belly of the building. Henry hesitated for an instant. He might never come back up again if he followed the guard. He shook off the sense of dread that had started to creep inside his belly. He needed to find Wasim.
Henry walked down three flights of stairs and stopped at the bottom. The guard kept going along the corridor but he stopped him. “I will wait here.” He spotted an empty chair and seated himself on it. “You can fetch him for me.”
The guard hesitated but Henry’s assurance defeated his resolve. He shrugged and walked towards one of the cells that was close to the entrance. He turned the key and called the man within.
Henry recognised Wasim’s tall frame. His walk told him he had been in a fight and the swollen face confirmed it.
“Leave us.” The guard moved away a little and Henry jerked his head with impatience. The guard disappeared towards the end of the corridor.
Henry jumped to his feet. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Wasim hobbled closer. “Serves me right for going back to the tearoom next to the hotel… I knew it was a bad place.” His speech was a little slurred.
“But what are they saying you did?”
“I wanted to buy a USB key from one of the fighters who seemed to be selling them. It was fine until some nosy bastard asked me whether I had my emir’s authorisation to make the purchase.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to try to help me out of this.”
“Are you serious? There’s no way I’m leaving you behind.”
“You may have no choice.” Wasim’s calm shut Henry up. What was he saying? Henry shook his head. He did not want to consider the outcome.
“Did you pay for the USB keys?”
“Of course…”
“Did they take them back from you?”
Wasim frowned. “They did.”
Henry nodded. “It’s a con…”
“You think…” Wasim did not finish his sentence. He could see it now. “Bastards.”
Spy Shadows Page 31