‘Where were you, Sara?’ Len Styles asked in a manner that could not be described as overly friendly.
‘I couldn’t come back,’ she replied. ‘Emotionally it would have been too much for me. There were no answers, no submarine.’
‘And no body,’ Ray’s father said bluntly, which caused Mavis Styles to break down in another fit of sobbing. It was Sara who leant over to comfort her.
‘I had a nervous breakdown. I loved him so much,’ Sara said.
‘And then what?’ Len Styles weakened his former hard stance against the woman who he felt had deserted his son, who should have at least been at the dockside in the north waiting for news that was never to come.
‘My parents placed me into an Ashram.’
‘What’s that?’ Mavis Styles asked. Her sobbing had subdued and she did love Sara dearly as a daughter.
‘It’s a spiritual hermitage, a monastery,’ replied Sara. ‘It’s a place for inner contemplation, for inner peace.’
‘Why not place you in a hospital?’ Len Styles asked.
‘It’s part of our tradition. A hospital will heal the bodily ailment, not the mental condition.’
‘But your place was here,’ Len Styles said.
‘I wanted to come, but once it was announced that there had been a terrorist attack on Ray’s boat, I collapsed.’
‘Did the Ashram help?’ Mavis Styles asked.
‘It helped, but it doesn’t heal the pain in my heart.’
‘Then maybe I should visit your Ashram. I have no resolution apart from sleeping pills and sedatives,’ Mavis Styles said.
‘I can show you some meditation practices, they may help,’ Sara said.
‘Thank you, Sara. You are welcome here in our house for as long as you like. Your parents, they are well?’
‘They are well, but they will not be returning. My father has taken leadership of our extended family there. It is a great honour for him.’
‘They were good people,’ Len Styles said, finally calm with Sara. He had been to India a few times with the Royal Navy and he was aware that their traditions and customs, alien as they were to him, were no doubt of use to Sara.
‘Thank you,’ said Sara. ‘I would like to stay here with you both for as long as I can. It is as close to Ray as I can ever be. It’s as if he is here with me.’
‘You can have his room,’ Mavis said. ‘It hasn’t been touched since you were here last.’
Chapter 22
It had not taken long for Anne Argento to find out who were the analysts that Rohan Jones had mentioned.
Frederick Vane and Andrew Martin had been walking out of the office on a Tuesday night at ten past eight when they had received the summons to be at the Deputy Prime Minister’s office the following morning at eight o’clock sharp. They had been wrestling with what to do with Shafi, and how the escape of Yasser Lahham from Belmarsh would impact on the plan. They were becoming adept at thinking like a fundamentalist and it was starting to frighten Frederick.
‘I read your report on global warming.’
‘Deputy Prime Minister, the facts are correct. It is what will happen if action is not taken.’ Andrew, an ardent admirer of the Honourable Anne Argento, was both pleased to be in her company and a little nervous. Judging by her reputation, she did not suffer fools lightly.
‘Do you expect any government, any country, to take note of what you’ve reported?’ asked Anne.
‘They should, but the truth is unpalatable, certainly hard to implement and horrendously costly,’ replied Andrew.
‘It’s unpalatable to everyone,’ said Anne, ‘whether they’re government, industry or the voting public. You do realise?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Andrew. ‘We stated the results of our analysis on global warming. What we put forward as a possible scenario will eventuate. It’s inevitable.’
‘Then what the Islamic State is involved in will not make much difference in another seventy to a hundred years. Is that what you are saying?’ Anne Argento adroitly changed the subject.
‘The Islamic State?’ Andrew Martin felt it appropriate not to disclose their involvement with the Counter Terrorism Command. ‘We don’t know about them, but we know about global warming. No action now and the consequences will be severe.’
‘Mr Vane, Mr Martin, let’s not beat around the bush here,’ Anne Argento said. ‘I know that you’re working with Isaac Cook.’
‘That’s correct, as analysts,’ Frederick said.
‘And the Counter Terrorism Command, or at least DCI Cook, is passing on that information to the Prime Minister,’ Anne Argento said.
‘We wouldn’t know that. We’ve only spoken to DCI Cook and DI Pickles,’ Andrew said.
‘I’ve met DCI Cook. He seems a good man, but he kept quiet about you two,’ Anne Argento admitted.
‘We’re the back room boffins,’ said Frederick. ‘We provide our analysis and then he either acts or doesn’t act as he sees fit.’
‘You figured out that they would attack York Minster?’
‘Deputy Prime Minister, not specifically York Minster, just that the Church was a likely target,’ Andrew Martin confirmed.
‘You put forward that it would be a significant target, subject to reconstruction, renovation activities.’
‘Yes, that came from us,’ Frederick agreed.
‘How did you do that?’ the deputy PM asked.
‘We’re analysts,’ Andrew explained, ‘it’s what we do. We take the facts and figures and aim to see a pattern. The pattern invariably projects forward to a future action.’
‘So where will they attack next?’ she asked.
‘I may be disrespectful,’ Andrew broached a difficult issue, ‘but shouldn’t we be giving this information to the Prime Minister as well?’
‘Mr Martin,’ Anne Argento laughed out loud. ‘Who do you think will be the Prime Minister in a few months’ time? What’s your analysis?’
‘Deputy Prime Minister, that’s not an analysis we’ve conducted, although I don’t think it would require much effort to come up with a conclusion.’
‘What’s the conclusion?’
‘You’ll be the next Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.’
‘Correct,’ she smugly admitted. ‘I need to know what’s going on. We’ve got to beat these people with whatever methods we can. This is not a time for pussy-footing around as the Prime Minister does. This is a time for action.’
‘Are you asking us to report to you as well as to Isaac Cook?’ Frederick asked.
‘Yes, I am. Do you have any problem with this?’
‘I think we’re fine with that,’ Andrew answered for both of them. Frederick nodded his head in agreement.
‘So what’s the next target?’ Anne Argento continued.
‘York Minster was unsuccessful,’ Frederick said, ‘so probably a number of small churches. The military, they took out a submarine so they’ll keep clear of them for a while.’
‘What about the police?’
‘You should be an analyst, Deputy Prime Minister,’ Andrew said.
‘Do you believe they would risk attacking the police?’ Anne Argento asked.
‘It would make sense,’ Andrew acknowledged. ‘They’ve left them alone so far, apart from tying up their resources.’
‘It’s got to be big?’ she stated.
‘The biggest,’ Frederick said.
‘You mean they’ll go after New Scotland Yard?’ Anne Argento said. ‘But it’s too heavily protected. They’ll never get near.’
‘They can sink a submarine, nearly destroy a cathedral. If they want to take out a police station, they will, no matter how big or well protected it is.’ Andrew disputed the Deputy Prime Minister’s statement.
‘How will they do it?’ she asked.
‘That’s for us to analyse,’ Frederick said.
‘Then you better go now and work on this. I’ll let DCI Cook know that we’ve met.’
‘And the Prime Minister
?’ Andrew asked.
‘You let me worry about the Prime Minister. You worry about New Scotland Yard, and whatever else these lunatics are attempting to blow up.’
***
‘Shafi, I’m sending you twenty packages.’ It had been a few weeks since any contact from Haji and Shafi had used his time well, the regular pay packet courtesy of the British taxpayer, some decent if basic accommodation, and a few whores. He had even found the two who had visited him in the hospital.
‘Haji, send me the addresses and I will ensure they reach their destinations.’
‘Two hundred pounds for each delivery, that’s what we agreed?’
‘Four grand, that’s fine,’ Shafi replied.
A derelict warehouse off a side street down by the docks in East London had been the agreed drop-off point. Twenty cardboard boxes, taped and marked fragile, were neatly stacked in the far corner with the addresses clearly attached.
‘You’ve got the packages?’ Haji asked.
‘Yes, they’re fine. Are they dangerous?’
‘Not as they are.’
‘I’ll ship them tomorrow.’ Shafi, unable to resist the chance of some extra profit, saw no reason to rent a truck for delivery. Sending them via a courier company seemed a good enough solution.
‘I’m sending you some addresses,’ Shafi said on the phone to DCI Isaac Cook.
‘What are these addresses?’ Isaac Cook asked.
‘I sent some packages for Haji.’
‘Any idea what’s in the packages?’ Isaac asked.
‘The boxes said crockery, handle with care. What do you think?’ Shafi answered a question with a question.
‘I’d say explosives,’ Isaac replied.
‘They were about twenty kilos each,’ Shafi said.
‘They could be suicide vests.’
At around the same time, Haji and the Master were sitting back in the comfort of the Master’s house discussing the situation with Shafi.
‘The packages were received satisfactorily at their destinations?’ the Master asked.
‘Yes, Shafi as usual tried to score some extra money by sending them with a cut-rate courier,’ Haji replied.
‘He really is an unscrupulous individual,’ the Master said. ‘Are you sure we can use him?’
‘Master, we need him,’ Haji replied.
‘But we could never trust him.’
‘Master, he can be trusted.’
‘What do you mean?’ The Master wanted true believers, not mercenaries.
‘We will convert him to the cause,’ Haji said.
‘How can you do that?’ the Master asked.
‘We’ll scare him into conversion.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘We did it on the border with India when I was in East Pakistan,’ Haji said.
‘Explain?’ The Master was interested.
‘We’ll subject him to some special treatment. We’ll brainwash him.’
‘Is it worth it?’ the Master asked.
‘Yes, it’s clear he’s playing us off against the Counter Terrorism Command,’ Haji said.
‘Are you sure on this?’
‘I’m sure. How else could he have got out of Belmarsh Prison? Plus, the judge at the appeals court is a right bitch. She’d throw anyone inside for five years for an unpaid parking ticket. It was all too easy.’
‘Are you suggesting a double agent working for us?’
‘That’s what I’m suggesting,’ Haji said. ‘At the present moment, he’s playing it both ways, mainly their way. How can you know he’s not feeding them information? Master, he’s just shipped twenty packages full of books for us.’
‘What’s the point?’ the Master asked.
‘If they had been intercepted, we would have known that he had passed on the information.’
‘And if he hasn’t?’ the Master asked.
‘We give him the treatment,’ Haji replied.
‘Haji, what about the other twenty packages?’
‘They’re in place. They’re ready for this Sunday.’
***
‘I’m aware that you’ve met the Deputy Prime Minister?’ Isaac Cook said at the scheduled meeting at Frederick Vane and Andrew Martin’s office. Ed Pickles had come along as well. The predicted attack on the churches in the country still troubled Counter Terrorism Command.
‘She called us in to discuss global warming.’ Andrew was a little embarrassed, not sure what to say. On the one hand, there was a confidential agreement in place with the Counter Terrorism Command, yet on the other, the Deputy Prime Minister was asking direct questions.
‘Is that what she talked about, global warming?’ Isaac Cook was not surprised by Anne Argento’s actions, just a little miffed that he had not been consulted by either party about the meeting.
‘No, she knew what we were up to,’ Andrew admitted. ‘She also said that she knew you.’
‘I’ve met her once,’ said Isaac. True, there had been the one official meeting, but there had been a couple of after-hours get-togethers at a discreet pub in the country. Nothing intimate, but very cosy.
‘How do we tell the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom that we are not at liberty to discuss our work?’ Frederick asked.
‘With Anne Argento, it’s impossible. She’d hang you out to dry if you became too smart with her,’ Isaac said.
‘That’s what we thought, a formidable woman,’ Frederick replied.
‘Did you like her?’ Isaac asked.
‘We both did,’ Andrew said.
‘That’s my opinion of her as well.’ Isaac liked her, both professionally and personally. He had no intention of elaborating on the latter.
‘She said she’s going to be the next Prime Minister,’ Frederick said.
‘Which means she will be,’ Ed said.
‘Okay, let’s get back to the matter at hand.’ Isaac directed the conversation back to Frederick and Andrew’s analysis. ‘Shafi’s shipped some packages for Haji.’
‘What sort of packages?’ Andrew asked.
‘Cardboard boxes, according to Shafi.’
‘Suicide vests, is that what you are thinking?’ Frederick asked.
‘That’s what we would assume. We don’t want to blow Shafi’s cover, but we can’t let them be used,’ Isaac said.
‘It’s a dilemma,’ Frederick said. ‘You need to be careful here. It seems unlikely that they would trust him with a shipment of this importance. They know he’s not a believer in their cause.’
‘You suspect it’s a test?’ Ed Pickles asked.
‘It may be, but how are you going to find out without blowing Shafi’s cover?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Ed answered.
‘You need to check out at least one of the packages. Do you have the addresses?’ Andrew asked.
‘Yes, we’ll make a plan to check one of them,’ said Isaac.
‘You know what this means?’ Frederick said.
‘No, please explain.’ Isaac wasn’t sure where Frederick was heading with his question.
‘There are three possibilities,’ said Frederick. ‘The first is that they intend to involve Shafi more deeply if he passes this test. Secondly, if the boxes are proven not to contain explosives, then another twenty or so have been sent to other locations…’
‘And thirdly,’ Isaac interjected, knowing the answer before Frederick gave it. ‘They intend to hit the churches this Sunday?’
‘That’s correct,’ said Frederick.
‘But we don’t have a clue where they will be,’ said Isaac. ‘And if we issue an ultimatum, even an order to close all the churches, it may weaken Shafi’s cover.’
‘We’re between a rock and a hard place on this one,’ Ed acknowledged.
‘You better hope,’ Frederick said, ‘that Shafi’s boxes contain explosives. At least you’ve got a chance, however slim, to reduce the number of fatalities.’
‘That’s our best hope, but how Shafi will survive is anyone’s guess.’
‘I don’t think he is our primary concern here, do you?’ Andrew said.
‘No, of course not,’ Isaac replied. ‘But he was our best hope of getting someone inside the organisation.’
‘Shafi’s only on Shafi’s side, you know that?’ Andrew said.
‘Of course we do,’ said Isaac. ‘He’s a creature of the street. He’ll do whatever is best for him, and that means working for those who can keep him out of prison.’
‘It’s either the Islamic State or us,’ Andrew said.
‘You make out that this is still possible,’ Ed said.
‘It is possible,’ Andrew replied. ‘It’s a long shot, may not happen next year, may take ten, twenty years, but it’s coming unless we fight back.’
‘Did you get that from Anne Argento?’ Isaac asked.
‘No, but she’s right and we all know it.’
‘You’re right,’ said Isaac. ‘But for now, we’ve got to protect some worshippers and one disreputable murderer and sodomiser of pretty boys.’
‘And patron of local whores,’ Ed added.
‘The problem,’ Andrew added, ‘is that the sodomiser is more important to us at this present moment than the pious worshippers.’
***
‘I’m meant to be your loyal deputy and yet again you keep these meetings secret from me,’ Anne Argento was furious.
‘Loyal? You’re stabbing me in the back every opportunity you’ve got,’ Clifford Bell responded angrily.
The main entrance area of 10 Downing Street was not the ideal place for a prime minister and his deputy to conduct a slanging match, but the situation between them had become untenable.
‘I suggest we go into my office and discuss this in private.’ The Prime Minister tried to maintain some civility.
‘Don’t try and stop me having my say, and don’t tell me to respect your position,’ his deputy said.
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