by Alan Porter
He took out his mobile phone and swiped through to a video. He placed it between them on the table.
A young man swathed in a keffiyeh scarf addressed the camera. Leila didn’t need to read the subtitles despite the poor sound quality. He spoke educated Arabic with a slight accent she recognised immediately. She herself had learned the language from speakers with exactly these inflections.
The man made all the usual claims: retribution for British interference in Kurdish Iraq, a threat of the unstoppable expansion of the Caliphate, kill the unbeliever… She stopped the video when the singing started.
‘Bullshit,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, but at this stage we’ve no reason not to believe it. We’re directing all our resources to getting an identity on this guy and moving forwards from there.’
‘You know where you’ll find his identity? IMDB or Equity. This guy’s an actor. He’s no more a terrorist than you are!’
DCI Lawrence shook his head and took a long draft of coffee.
‘He’s just reciting what he’s saying,’ Leila said. ‘How long have you had this?’
‘It first appeared about an hour and a half ago.’
‘Who’s seen it?’
‘Apart from anyone with a computer? Tech are taking it apart as we speak.’
‘Don’t bother. Just get someone who understands Arabic to listen to it rather than reading the subtitles. This, for example: he refers to ‘our beautiful martyr’. Listen.’ She scanned back through the video until she found the section she wanted then played it. She repeated it with the sound turned up.
‘It’s hard to hear, but he says ‘jameel’. Ghada was a woman: it should be ‘jameelah’.’
‘Slip of the tongue.’
‘Or whoever wrote his script doesn’t know a damn thing about the bomber. We haven’t released that information. Clean the sound up and I bet every reference is made in the masculine form. Plus, it makes no sense whatever that a Lebanese man would be speaking on behalf of Islamic State.’
‘How do you know he’s Lebanese?’
‘Dialect. He learned formal Arabic at school, but he can’t completely over-ride his natural dialect form. The glottal stops are a big clue. This is a fake. Even if it wasn’t such a ham-fisted one, I already have evidence that this is not an Islamist plot at all.’
‘And your alternative theory is…?’
‘Black Eagle is real. You may be right that this was a specifically-activated sleeper cell, but it’s a cell of a bigger organism than anything we’ve ever faced before. I don’t know what Black Eagle is yet, but it does exist.’
‘And you don’t think it’s an Islamist cell?’
‘Michael, Ghada Abulafia was Jewish.’
‘Oh, brilliant. So we go public with your theory and we’ve pissed off another whole community. Just what we need.’
‘I’m not saying she was acting as a Jew; I’m saying she was Jewish, which rather mitigates against this being an Islamist plot, don’t you think?’
‘To what end? There’s never been an Israeli-inspired terrorist attack in the West. Ever. So why now?’
‘The Peace Talks. There is a connection. Black Eagle…’
‘Do not exist! And if they do, they’re so far under the radar that they couldn’t possibly function at this level.’
‘Unless they had help.’
‘From?’
‘SIS, MI5, IDF, CIA would be my bet. Hell, Michael, even we’re just a three-letter acronym. Who’s to say someone at CTC isn’t deliberately diverting attention from the real issue?’
‘You’re right, there is someone who’s been trying to undermine this investigation, throw us off the scent.’
‘Who?’
‘You!’
‘You don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you?’
‘You said you’d follow the evidence. I’m just doing the same. And so far the evidence points away from you and towards what we all expected right from the beginning.’
‘How convenient.’
‘Bring me something concrete – Phillip Shaw would be good – and we’ll look into it. Otherwise, I can’t help you. Now, is there anything else?’
‘Has the second passport yielded anything?’
‘It’s a US issue. We can’t get anything out of them. The Foreign Secretary’s lodged a request with Homeland, but they’re not exactly jumping at the chance to help. They’ve really had their noses put out of joint because the peace talks were set up on the ‘wrong’ side of the pond. And your stunt at the Embassy certainly hasn’t helped.’
‘At very least you have to increase security at Mapleton.’
‘You still think there’s a second attack coming?’
‘I’m absolutely certain of it. If I’m wrong, it’ll cost you some overtime. But if I’m right…’
‘We can’t get anyone else into the house. Each of the participants have brought their own people, and every name on the list has been thoroughly checked by the others. The whole process took months. We couldn’t get the Queen herself into the house without the Palestinians and the Israelis raking through her family tree back to the dark ages.’
‘But you can get more people outside.’
‘We already have. There’s Air Support doing regular fly-overs and increased perimeter patrols. There are checkpoints on all roads leading to Mapleton. Although I have to say, we have some of the most sophisticated security systems in place already. The SHIELD system has the entire perimeter locked down. If a stray deer tries to jump over the wall it would be a venison steak before its back legs hit the ground.’
‘What’s the schedule?’
‘Details are classified. All I can tell you is that each party is being flown in on separate helicopters, all RAF, all checked and double-checked. They’re meeting for a dinner tonight at seven and the talks get underway officially at ten tomorrow.’
‘And they’re all staying on-site tonight?’
‘The PM is returning to Downing Street. Everyone else is staying put.’
‘OK. You’re certain there’s no US participation inside or outside the house?’
‘No. Which is a big problem for your theory. If the CIA are behind this, they must have help from either the Palestinians, which seems highly unlikely, or the Israelis, which granted is possible, but what’s their end game? If the CIA and IDF want the talks to fail, then there are better ways of going about it than bombing London.’
‘Maybe they were trying to shift the blame onto the PLO.’
‘It’s too intricate. Too risky. No, there’s no evidence that the talks are in any way linked to the bomb, or at least not by the same people.’
‘Richard Morgan agrees?’
‘He won’t hear of delaying or cancelling. He’s spent years bringing this together. His efforts damn nearly got him assassinated five years ago when he was Shadow Foreign Secretary. He’s got a lot riding on it.’
Leila sat for a moment looking our across the river.
‘What if he’s got more riding on it than just his reputation?’ she said.
‘Like what?’
‘Ruth.’
‘His daughter?’
‘Yes. Has she been found yet?’
‘There’s not been any report that she’s missing.’
‘I told you that she needed to be looked into.’
‘There have been no reports backing you up. The PM hasn’t mentioned her.’
‘So you’ve ignored it?’
‘We haven’t given it priority. It’s not a CTC issue.’
‘I think maybe it is. Look at what we know: Ruth Morgan was on her way to the Palace when the bomb went off. Her personal security left her unguarded, saying she was only a few seconds from safety and he had to get to the hotel. Then nothing.’
‘Maybe there was nothing to report. She’s fine.’
‘No, listen: less than twenty-four hours later, the PM makes a unilateral decision to move the talks to a new location. Why? Maybe someone’s en
couraging him.’
‘You think Ruth was kidnapped?’
‘Yes. She rode in Hyde Park at the same time every Wednesday. The bomb would be perfect cover for a kidnap.’
‘Listen to yourself! You’re seriously saying that this Black Eagle would bomb a hotel, risk killing dozens of people, to cover one kidnap? There were plenty of opportunities to snatch her if they’re that sophisticated.’
‘I’m not saying that at all. The bomb was just that: a terrorist attack. It’s brought chaos to the streets and tied CTC and the rest of us up controlling the fallout. But it’s not the what you need to be looking at: it’s the when. It was timed to give them cover for the kidnap.’
‘Then why was Abulafia there? If they were aiming the bomb to coincide with Ruth Morgan’s schedule, why would they put someone back into the field and risk blowing their cover?’
‘I don’t know. But there will be an explanation, I’m certain of it, and it’ll point back to Ruth’s disappearance.’
‘OK, then how do you account for the presence of Ruth’s personal security Byers? How would they know he would not accompany her to the Palace before going to play the hero?’
‘Because he was in on it.’
‘Oh, come on!’
‘No, listen. Byers facilitated the kidnap. It makes perfect sense. He was there to make sure she stuck to schedule and was in the right place at the right time. The kidnappers then have the talks moved to Mapleton while all the time CTC are chasing shadows and the rest of the Met are stretched to breaking point covering the riots.’
‘Leila, you need to take a break. Your instincts on the ground are usually good, but there’s no way we can tie all this together like that. It’s absurd!’
‘Then let me talk to Morgan. Five minutes and I’ll know whether his daughter’s safe.’
‘There’s no chance I’m letting you anywhere near the PM. Not today. We will look into Ruth’s situation and act if we find anything.’
‘It’ll take too long. If you won’t let me talk to Morgan, do it yourself. Ask him right out. You’ll know if he’s lying. And if Ruth has been taken and there’s any connection at all with the talks, then shift all your efforts onto getting her back. They’re planning to hit Mapleton House and they’ll kill Ruth once they’ve done it. But if you can get her secured, Morgan might be persuaded to move the meeting back to London. We might still have time to stop this.’
‘That’s too many ‘mights’ and ‘ifs’, Leila. If I can talk to the PM I will. But on one condition.’
‘What?’
‘You back off. For your own sake and the sake of this investigation, back off. I don’t want to see you again until this is over.’
‘Last time was a mistake. I don’t make the same mistake twice.’
‘Last time was a royal fuck up, Leila. That’s why I’m ordering you to stand down. You’re too close to this, too…’
‘Hysterical?’
‘That’s not my word, but there are those who would paint it that way, yes. You go in front of the IPCC twice for the same catastrophic lack of judgement, I can’t bring you back. You’re finished. So, as I say, back off. We can handle this.’
‘Be careful who that ‘we’ is, Michael.’
‘If there’s a security services mole, it’s not within CTC.’
‘Just the same, be careful, because if I am right and you’ve ignored my intel…’
‘Don’t threaten me DS Reid. And from now on, stay away from the investigation.’
He drained the last of his coffee, left a pile of coins on the table and walked briskly out into the crowds. Leila watched him go then unplugged the jammer and headed back over the bridge. She needed to get to Broadwater Farm and find Phillip.
34
‘Could you patch me through to Gavin Byers, Ruth Morgan’s personal protection, please?’
‘Please hold.’
Michael Lawrence had called the PM’s personal secretary as soon as he got back to Scotland Yard. There was no substance to Reid’s theory, but there was a feeling. Ruth Morgan represented a gap in the investigation. Hopefully it was an irrelevant gap, but it was a gap.
‘DCI Lawrence?’ a voice said.
‘Yes. Mr Byers?’
‘Yep. How can I help you?’
‘We’re just following up a loose end from the bombing. You told one of our detectives you left Ruth near Kensington Palace, is that right?’
‘Yes. No more than a hundred yards from the gates.’
‘But you didn’t actually see her arrive?’
‘No, I went straight to the bomb site. I got a call, I don’t know, three-ish from security at Windsor to say she’d just arrived with the royals by helicopter and that they’d keep an eye on her.’
‘Good, that’s fine. Have you been in contact with her since?’
‘No. Rostered days off yesterday and today.’
‘But you still answer your official phone?’
‘I’m never completely off duty when it comes to Ruth Morgan. I can always use the overtime. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m fishing with my son, Sir. I would like to get back to it.’
‘Certainly. Thank you for your help.’
Lawrence placed the phone back in its cradle thoughtfully. It could be the truth. He could be fishing with his son, but the fact that he answered his phone when off duty wasn’t fully explained by his dedication to his employer. If there was something wrong with this picture, Byers would want to be the first to get his story into the mix. Delay an investigation, dampen suspicion.
And who was to say father and son were sitting in a sheltered spot by the Thames? By now he could be anywhere.
He dialled the internal number of SO14, the unit responsible for royal protection. He was put through to the officer in charge at Windsor Castle and immediately the already over-loaded investigation took a whole new dimension. Ruth Morgan had not been helicoptered in because she had never arrived at Kensington Palace. SO14 had already been in contact with the PM who had reassured them that his daughter was safely at Downing Street.
He picked up the phone again then immediately put it down. This was probably still just a misunderstanding. There had to be a logical explanation. He wouldn’t take it up the line yet. Commander Thorne would dismiss anything Reid had said without good concrete evidence, and there wasn’t any yet.
For the second time in two hours he logged out of the department and made his way towards Westminster. A few minutes walk, just check it out, look the PM in the eye when he asked… Or was he really trying to bypass protocol? Was there a doubt in his own mind about the security of his own department? Was he being infected with Reid’s fantasies again?
As he walked he dialled the front desk at the Palace of Westminster. The PM was due in at 2pm when he would address the House. He was working at Downing Street on final preparations for the start of tomorrow’s peace talks.
Lawrence arrived at Downing Street three minutes later. The door officer let him in without question and he was taken to the waiting room by Jane Marks, one the PM’s most trusted aides.
‘Sorry to arrive unannounced like this,’ Lawrence said. ‘I just need five minutes.’
‘I’ll see if he’s available.’
Two minutes later Jane came back and took him through to the rear of the building. Richard Morgan met him on the stairs and led him up to the private flat on the top floor.
‘If you want to speak to me up here, I take it you know why I’ve come?’ Lawrence said.
‘You people don’t make unannounced visits, especially in the middle of a crisis. How did you find out?’
‘Well, until you said that, I hadn’t, not for sure. One of my officers had a hunch and something Gavin Byers said didn’t add up. I wanted to hear what you had to say before I made it official.’
Richard dropped into the sofa and half-heartedly motioned for Lawrence to take the armchair opposite.
‘This can’t be official,’ Richard said. ‘They’ll kill her
. You know that, don’t you? You’ve seen what they’re capable of.’
‘Who? Who are we dealing with here?’
‘They didn’t say. You probably know as much as I do, and that’s not much.’
‘Ransom?’
Richard shook his head.
‘And no time-scale?’
‘It’s ongoing.’
‘Was there anything that might get us any closer to knowing who they are?’
‘The man I spoke to sounded English, home counties, Eton, but then the Shoe Bomber was born in Bromley, wasn’t he? You get two lunatics killing a soldier in London and we no longer know who the hell the enemy is. It’s everyone. Christ, they kidnapped my daughter in broad daylight! How can this be happening?’
‘Planning. And that’s what sets them apart from Richard Reid and Lee Rigby’s killers. Harakat al Sahm, for want of a better name, are sophisticated. They are meticulous, well-funded, and highly organised. If you’ll excuse my saying so, they’ve even got the Prime Minister dancing to their tune. SO14 tell me you confirmed that Ruth was safely here.’
‘What should I have done? If I’d come to you, they’d have killed her. If I’d told anyone, done anything, they’d have killed her. They made one very simple demand. It was so simple I would have been insane not to comply.’
‘So moving the peace talks to Mapleton House was part of this.’
Richard nodded.
‘It seemed so… I even convinced myself that the move was a good thing. Security’s better at Mapleton, the atmosphere more conducive to a positive outcome. I just can’t see what they’re trying to achieve.’
‘Nor can we, unfortunately. But they’re going to a lot of trouble to achieve something.’
Richard hauled himself out of the chair and walked over to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a whisky and took a sip.
‘What have I done?’ he said, still with his back to his guest.
‘You’ve done what any father in your position would do. They backed you into a corner and gave you no time to think.’
‘I honestly thought the move to Mapleton was the least worst option under the circumstances. This can’t be a simple assassination ploy. The security is second-to-none.’