Century of Jihad

by John Mannion

  ‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Lisa. Theo nodded in acknowledgement to the elderly proprietor as they left.

  They spent the next couple of hours on Edgware Road, visiting a number of premises without any significant leads being revealed.

  It was almost noon when they entered the Istanbul Café, a few blocks down from the Blue Nile. The middle-aged male proprietor greeted the two of them as they entered his café. The two officers showed him their badges and once again launched into the questions that they had asked so many times that morning, with varying responses. This time the man was very helpful. Indeed he was eager to assist.

  ‘Yes, Officers, he has been here a number of times in the past month or so. He appeared around here from I don’t know where. He’s not local. Asks a lot of questions about places around here. Directions to places. You know what I mean?’ He paused, looking into the faces of the officers, as if seeking confirmation that they understood. Then he continued, ‘I had to go out one evening. He had just left with his order. As I walked down the road in the direction he had taken just a couple of minutes earlier, I saw he was just a little ahead of me. We were both going in the direction of Marble Arch. I saw him entering a building across the road, a few blocks from here. He went into an entrance, just to the left of a small Persian carpet shop which has living accommodation above it. I don’t know its name. I hope this is of some help to you, Officers. Would you like something? It’s on the house, Officers.’ The man gestured at the food and drink available.

  Theo’s eyes lit up but before he could reply, Lisa responded, ‘Thank you very much for your assistance. But no thanks.’ A disappointed Theo looked at Lisa as they left the café.

  Once outside Theo said, ‘Let’s take a discreet look, then call it in.’

  They both strolled in the direction of the premises identified by the café owner. Once they were directly opposite, they stopped and chatted in a casual way, as would any young couple out walking. They pointed in different directions up and down the street as if lost, but all the while they were both taking in the scene around them, with particular attention to the premises identified to them. They then continued casually on their way, entering an alleyway a few yards down the road. Theo pulled out his mobile phone and called Ed.

  ‘Hi, Sarge, it’s Theo. I think we’ve got something. A café owner has identified our man and the place where he thinks he may live. It’s living accommodation above a small carpet shop on Edgware Road. Access is through an open entrance to the left of the shop and up a flight of stairs. What do you want us to do?’

  A short pause and then Ed replied, ‘I’m going to have a word with the DI. Just keep a discreet watch on the premises for now. I’ll get back to you soon.’

  ‘What did the Sarge say?’ asked Lisa as Theo put his mobile phone away.

  ‘He wants us to act natural, but keep an eye on the place. I think that’s code for having an intimate lunch.’

  Lisa groaned inwardly – natural and Theo weren’t words that sat easily in the same sentence for her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ed passed the information received from his two officers on the Edgware Road up the chain of command. His first point of contact was his boss, DI Russ Ward, and from there the information travelled rapidly to the ears of DAC Braithwaite, Head of Counter Terrorism Command. It was decided that, because of the urgency of the situation, mounting any kind of surveillance operation was not an option. The decision was made that there were enough grounds, under the circumstances, to stage a raid on the Edgware Road address suspected to have been used by the Underground train bomber. There were two other apartments in the building, which would also have to be treated as suspect premises and, therefore, searched.

  While they waited for the cavalry to arrive, Theo and Lisa had found more comfortable surroundings from which to keep an eye on the building across the street. In the warmth of a small café just opposite, they sat sipping warm cups of coffee, their mobile phones switched on, waiting expectantly for further instructions. Conscious of the need to look ‘normal’ Theo began banal chatter – teasing and joking. Lisa played the part but inwardly hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.

  Behind the idle chatter, dark thoughts played on Theo’s mind which he kept to himself. Thoughts of such intensity Lisa would never have dreamed Theo would be capable of having. As he looked around the faces in the café and out of the window at the predominantly Middle Eastern restaurants and passers-by of Arab appearance, he reflected back to the days of his youth in the East End of London. How he and his mates, then in their early to mid-teens, would often find themselves in verbal and, sometimes, physical conflict with local Asian youths. As he grew into his late teens he came to feel that there was no rational reason for this hostility and, in time, it faded. After all, he reasoned, they may eat different food and have strange religious beliefs but, when all was said and done, they were just people trying to get by.

  However, his contact with them since joining the Police Service had resurrected his hostility, only this time he felt his emotions were completely rational. He was a Londoner. He didn’t like these people, with their strange ways, coming here trying to impose their alien beliefs and culture. His attitude was they should be grateful to be here and if they didn’t like it, they should go somewhere else.

  DAC Braithwaite had personally taken command of the operation on the premises on Edgware Road. He assembled the heads of the various units which would be taking part, these included officers from CO19 Specialist Firearms Command and officers from the Metropolitan Police Bomb Squad, who would be on hand to deal with any explosives that may be found at the premises. DI Ward and Ed were also present to update everyone on the progress of the investigation.

  At 3pm uniformed officers from Paddington and Marylebone Police Stations sealed off Edgware Road from Marble Arch at one end and the junction of Old Marylebone Road at the other end, including all side roads leading onto the Edgware Road in between. The assault team assembled in Forset Street, a narrow side street just off the Edgware Road, awaiting the ‘Go’ order.

  Theo and Lisa had been kept up-to-date with the preparations by Ed, who had been calling Theo on his mobile phone. They had left the café and were now back in the alley opposite the suspect premises.

  Ed called, ‘Theo. Any activity at the address?’

  ‘No, Sarge, no sign of life over there.’

  ‘OK, we will be making our move in five minutes. Keep me up-to-date with any changes.’

  The Edgware Road had become still in the last ten minutes or so. The traffic flow had now stopped and pedestrian movement had all but ceased. There were a few people attempting to leave premises near the suspect’s address, but Theo and Lisa could see uniformed officers containing any further pedestrian activity inside these premises. Armed CO19 officers could be seen stealthily approaching the target address on foot, hugging the wall of the building.

  At precisely 3.30pm, Theo and Lisa heard, ‘Go, Go, Go!’ crackle over their police radios. There was a sudden flurry of activity.

  The CO19 officers rushed the entrance at the side of the small carpet shop and dashed up the stairs leading to the apartments, as police vehicles screeched to a halt outside. Theo could see the DAC, the DI, Ed and Stuart decamping from their vehicles amongst the maelstrom. The armed officers gained entry to the three apartments simultaneously using battering rams, as the element of surprise was essential for the operation to succeed. The CO19 officers shouted, ‘Armed police’, as they entered, moving swiftly from room to room in each of the apartments in search of any occupants. None were present.

  The armed officers, having confirmed the premises were unoccupied and that there was no danger of armed resistance, stepped back to allow other officers access to the apartments. The Bomb Squad, with their sniffer dogs trained to find any sign of explosives, were the next to enter. With tails wagging, the dogs ran excitedly through the accommodation. Each apartment consisted of a tiny bathroom, small kitc
hen, a bedroom big enough for a single bed and wardrobe, and a box-size living room, containing a worn two-seat sofa and equally threadbare armchair. The search came up with no trace of explosives ever having been present in the accommodation.

  As soon as the Bomb Squad officers exited, Forensics Officers entered to begin their examination of the premises. The detectives, DAC Braithwaite, DI Ward, Ed and Stuart, followed them in, ever mindful that it was a possible scene of crime.

  Two of the apartments visited were typical of those occupied by young male students. The apartments were untidy, with clothing left on the floor. Waste bins were overflowing and literature of a distinctly non-religious kind was found.

  Ed commented, ‘Living the dream.’

  In the third apartment, the occupant had kept his accommodation neat and tidy. It was spartan. What little clothing he owned was in the wardrobe and there was no visible sign left behind to identify the occupant. DAC Braithwaite instructed the Forensic Officers to ‘go through this apartment with a fine tooth comb’.

  The forensics team set about their task, lifting fingerprints and examining any items where DNA could be found, bagging it up for closer examination in the lab. DAC

  Braithwaite approached the senior forensics officer at the scene.

  ‘I need feedback on DNA, fingerprints, anything, as soon as possible.’

  He turned to DI Ward. ‘I need close scrutiny of the CCTV footage from around here at about the time the cab driver picked up his fare. Get the cabbie in again and confirm that there were no stops on the way. See if he remembers anything else. If the young man living at this address is our man, he didn’t keep any explosives here. Did he store them somewhere else? Where did he pick them up? Get back to me ASAP on this.’

  With that he left to head back to the Yard to update the Commissioner.

  DI Ward turned to Ed. ‘Let’s get to it, Ed. Get somebody to speak to the landlord and check him and the two students out. See if they can help us, and explain that the intrusion was a necessary evil to protect them and every other citizen from harm. Let’s face it, nobody wants a terrorist living next door, eh?’ And off he went.

  Ed turned to his team. ‘Theo, you and I back to the Yard. More CCTV footage, I’m afraid. See if we can trace an explosives delivery boy. Stuart and Lisa, speak to the landlord. He’s in his carpet store. His two tenants have just been escorted in there as well.’ With that Ed and Theo left the scene.

  Lisa and Stuart entered the carpet store. Lisa wrinkled her nose as she entered; there was a musty smell in the air. There were a number of police officers present in the small and dimly lit premises. The landlord and the tenants were being held by officers in separate corners of the store. Lisa, with Stuart following close behind, approached the elderly, short, dark-skinned owner who was looking very confused, if not traumatised, by the situation in which he found himself. Lisa produced her Police ID for the man to see and addressed him in a soft enquiring tone.

  ‘Mr Talpur, I have a few questions I hope you can clear up for me.’ Lisa looked past the clutter of the store towards a small room. ‘Can we use your office?’

  The man gestured with his right hand and they walked over to the small dingy room.

  ‘Please sit down, Mr Talpur. This shouldn’t take long.’

  As the man sat down, Stuart closed the door. Lisa and Stuart remained standing as there was only one chair available in the small space. Lisa looked into the man’s eyes and gave a genial smile.

  The man responded. ‘I hope I can help, Officer, but I’m not sure I understand what is happening.’

  ‘Your other two tenants are also here to help us with our enquiries. The other young man you have been renting one of your apartments to is implicated in the Regent’s Park tube bombing,’ Lisa explained gently.

  The elderly man was visibly shaken on hearing this statement. ‘My God, how can this be?’

  Lisa enquired, ‘Mr Talpur, how did you become acquainted with this young man? What name did he give you?’

  The elderly man hesitated for a second, trying to rally his thoughts.

  ‘Khanza Mazari is the name he gave me. He replied to an advertisement I placed in a magazine. I had never seen him before that. He has been a tenant for about two months now.’

  Lisa asked, ‘Are you aware of his movements during this time? Any of his comings and goings? Anything that appeared unusual, any visitors?’

  The man, still apparently in a daze, replied, ‘I’m very sorry, Officer, I can’t say I saw much of him at all apart from when he came in to pay his rent. We never spoke apart from pleasantries. He never caused any problems. He was always respectful. I never saw any visitors come or go.’

  Lisa listened attentively to the man’s responses and concluded the interview.

  ‘Mr Talpur, thank you very much for your co-operation. If you think of anything further which may help our enquiries, please call me.’

  With that, she handed the man her card and Stuart opened the door. The elderly man shuffled out of the room. Lisa looked at Stuart.

  ‘Not a lot to be getting on with from that, but I’m sure he’s telling us everything he knows. Did you see him? He was in a right old state!’

  Stuart agreed. ‘Yeah, poor old bugger. Not something you want to be involved in at that age. Shall I call in one of the others now?’

  Lisa replied, ‘Yes, let’s get on with it.’

  The two other tenants, both students, told the officers a similar story. Neither had any real contact with the suspect, nor had either seen a visitor to the suspect’s apartment. They were not aware of anything suspicious about the man.

  Police checks on the landlord and his two student tenants produced nothing untoward.

  CHAPTER 9

  Fayaz stood staring for a moment out of his office window in the extensively renovated, Grade II listed building that is the HQ of the British Security Service, or MI5. Thames House, a substantial building on the north bank of the Thames, is located at the corner of Millbank and Horseferry Road in Central London, overlooking Lambeth Bridge. The MI5 officer could see the lines of cars crossing the bridge, their headlights glaring in the darkness. Office workers were leaving their places of work and heading home to the outskirts of the city and to the surrounding counties. He reflected that, now the Christmas lights had been switched on, the streets of the capital would throng with Christmas shoppers and revellers well into the evening on a daily basis.

  Fayaz Dhavi, aged forty-five and of portly build, was a senior officer in the Counter Terrorism Branch of the British Security Service, commonly known as MI5. His area of responsibility was Islamic extremists operating, or people suspected of operating in this capacity, in Britain. He was a British-born Muslim, his parents having moved to Britain from their home in Pakistan shortly after Indian independence and the partition of India and Pakistan into two separate and hostile states, divided by hostility between Muslim and Hindu. His father had subsequently done very well in his adopted country, building up a very successful textile business. Fayaz joined ‘Five’ on leaving university, where he had studied politics. At the time he was one of the few non-white, non-Oxbridge members of the organisation.

  At first he had found his colleagues either patronising or, in some cases, hostile. However, with time and the changing world MI5 found itself operating in, post the collapse of the old Soviet Block, he found acceptance from his compatriots in their new operating environment against Organised Crime and Counter Terrorism. The fight against Organised Crime, particularly drug trafficking, which absorbed approximately ten percent of resources in the decade leading up to 9/11, was eventually pushed aside by the growth of Islamic fundamentalism, and the international terror campaign mounted in its name. The Security Service had taken over the lead role in Intelligence gathering in the fight against terrorism. The police were still running the investigations and executing the arrests, while ‘Five’ used its Intelligence gathering skills to good effect. The Service had developed finely tuned
analytical skills and great experience, gathered over many years, in agent running, surveillance and the use of phone taps. With the change of direction, the Security Service had doubled in size and in the scope of its recruitment pool. These changes had proved extremely beneficial to Fayaz’s career and to many others in the organisation. Like many of them, he found himself rising rapidly through the ranks.

  He turned to DI Ward. ‘Well, Russ. The investigation will take its usual course. Following leads. Some will be fruitful; others dead ends. We have lots of CCTV coverage in London, the biggest such coverage anywhere in the world, and that gives us an edge. You will soon have the DNA results and that should confirm, or otherwise, whether or not the man at the morgue did, or did not, reside at the Edgware Road address. We at ‘Five’ are checking the movements of the usual suspects. Unfortunately, thus far, we are not seeing anything unusual or of interest out there to connect with the bombing. GCHQ have noticed no increase in ‘’chatter” either. He may not have previously appeared on our radar. It could prove fruitful to check with the Fixated Threat Assessment Centre (FTAC). He may be known to them. We are, as you know, stretched rather thin on the ground. We can’t follow everybody who appears on our radar. We have more than two thousand suspects on our books at any time and, as you know, it takes a team of twelve or more people for round-the-clock surveillance on any one of those targets. So even with the help of the Army’s Special Reconnaissance Regiment and, of course, you people – ‘’the biggest gang on the street”– things do become rather stretched.’

  DI Ward detected a hint of sarcasm in the man’s use of a term the Police sometimes used to describe themselves. He felt Fayaz was more than a little condescending towards the Police in these joint operations. He stared at the MI5 officer for a moment, his eyes focussed on a scar on the right side of the man’s neck.