by Susan Lewis
Already she was sensing a degree of resentment at her appointment as head of this hastily formed Special Operations Executive, which was made up of the most senior-ranking advisors, experts and analysts from both the US and Britain’s intelligence services. She’d spoken to each of them individually over the last two days, so knew who her most dangerous enemies were. Ronald Platt of the National Security Council, and Daniel Allbringer of the Defense Intelligence Board.
Once everyone was settled and the support staff had closed and secured all doors, she cut through ceremony and came straight to the point.
‘As you know, gentlemen,’ she began in a raspy Southern drawl, ‘our purpose is threefold. First, we must identify the actual source of the leak. Who, in the upper ranks of the intelligence community, or Government, arranged for those documents to reach a member of the press?’ She looked swiftly around, knowing that everyone was wondering if the culprit sat right here in this room.
She allowed her eyes to alight on no-one in particular and continued. ‘Joshua Shine is now back in this country and has been taken to Camp Peary, where he will be interrogated. Should he prove unhelpful it will become necessary to investigate ourselves and our own departments. As each of you has already assured me that you are fully prepared to do this, we’ll move on our second purpose, which is to retrieve the documents. So far we have no evidence to say that the journalist, Tom Chambers, actually has them in his possession – his computer revealed no communications referring to the P2OG, and his cellphone records showed no contact with anyone to give us immediate cause for alarm. However, it’s been almost a week since his personal belongings were taken from his apartment, and as it’s a matter of record that he met with Josh Shine at least twice in that time, we’re going to be working on the assumption that Chambers does have the documents, or has already passed them on.’ She looked across the table to Michael Dalby, Director of Operations for Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, whose very name was unknown to the British public, and his colleague, Sir Christopher Malton, who was chairman of Britain’s Joint Intelligence Committee.
Understanding what was expected of him, Dalby, a short, trim man with grizzled grey hair and a neat moustache, said, ‘I can report that Michelle Rowe did not transport the documents into the UK, nor did any emails on her computer refer to them.’
‘Phone calls?’ Deborah Gough prompted.
‘None on her mobile to cause any concern. Apparently, she’s in the country to take care of a dying sister who, I feel it prudent to mention, is a journalist of some repute in the UK.’
‘Name?’
‘Katie Kiernan.’
After noting it down, Deborah Gough looked up again. ‘Considering the state of the woman’s health, I don’t see her as a potential cause for concern, but before we dismiss the possibility, would anyone like to comment?’
Daniel Allbringer immediately said, ‘I think we should run a background check, get an update on her health and current political affiliations.’
Gough nodded and noted it down.
Allbringer wasn’t finished. ‘Going back to Michelle Rowe,’ he said, ‘we know what a powerful force she and Chambers have proved in the past in their efforts to expose corruption, fight for human rights and bring world focus to areas that most need it. We can highly applaud a lot of their work, however they’ve made no secret of their views concerning the current US administration and its foreign policies in the past few years, so I don’t think we should dismiss Michelle Rowe on account of her sister’s health.’
Deborah Gough regarded his smooth, handsome features, showing none of her dislike, only close interest in his opinion. ‘I agree,’ she said, finally, ‘but I don’t believe her to be a high-risk priority. However, Chambers is, which brings me to our third purpose, that of damage control. We of course hope that it won’t get that far, but as a precautionary measure I’ve ordered a highly aggressive campaign to be drawn up ready to discredit Chambers and his motives for exposing a covert intelligence and military operation that is, in fact, entirely fictitious.’ She waited for someone to challenge the last comment, but to her satisfaction it received not even a murmur of surprise. She’d always found that believing totally in the message you were trying to get across was a strategy that worked well, and it appeared her fellow Executive members agreed.
‘Before we go any further,’ Allbringer said, ‘can we just backtrack to the retrieval of the documents? There’s nothing about them, as far as I’m aware, to establish their origin, so as I see it, Chambers’s biggest problem is going to be how to connect them to the P2OG, if he indeed knows that is what he needs to connect them to.’
Deborah Gough was nodding. ‘You’re right, of course,’ she said, ‘but unlike the courts, the media doesn’t bear a burden of proof. He can put it out there for public scrutiny and speculation, and we’ll immediately find ourselves on the back foot having to explain. That is something we’d prefer to avoid, which could be done by mounting our own campaign first, which is why I’ve already had one drawn up. However, let’s continue to aim for the best-case scenario, which is to apprehend Chambers and get the documents back.’
There was a general grunt of agreement with that, and after completing the notes she was making, Gough moved on. ‘As you know,’ she said, ‘our own agents, working in conjunction with Pakistani intelligence, failed to apprehend Chambers at the hotel in Karachi. Since then, the only lead we have is a failed attempt to access one of his bank accounts in Peshawar three days ago. We’re going to assume that he’ll raise funds from another quarter, and use them to purchase a fake identity. We know that he manages to blend into Islamic communities with some ease, using the aliases of Omar Qureshi or Asif Karim. Counterfeit passports in these names were seized from his apartment, so he will be unable to use them to leave Pakistan – if that is his intention, and the prevailing opinion right now is that it is.’
‘Do we have an arrest warrant out for him?’ Platt asked the FBI chief.
‘Not at this time. It’ll only alert other members of the press, but the situation will be reviewed hourly.’
Allbringer said, ‘We all know that a large element of Pakistan’s intelligence service is in the pockets of the country’s terrorist network, and as history tells us how they treat American detainees – journalists in particular – might we assume, if they manage to track down Chambers, that there will be an end to this matter in a much more decisive manner than the ones we are proposing?’
Gough smiled at his coyness. ‘It’s true, assassination is not currently a part of our mandate,’ she responded. ‘However, I’m afraid I can’t speak for our Pakistani colleagues, so we shall have to wait and see what develops over the next few days.’ She smiled pleasantly, and leaving Allbringer to wonder if an order had already been given to execute Chambers, she turned to Michael Dalby. He was expressing concern over the UK’s position should this highly sensitive P2 operation come to light – and since the maps in Chambers’s possession were of a British site, Deborah was willing to concede that he had good reason to be worried.
Michelle was speeding through the country lanes, driving Molly to school after they’d all overslept. It was the first time they’d been alone together, but from the instant they’d got into the car Molly had been firmly barricaded behind the pop station she’d tuned into. Now she was tapping madly on the keys of her mobile phone. It was almost as though she were in a taxi, or on a bus, with no obligation even to acknowledge there was anyone else around, never mind attempt any kind of conversation. It had been easier, Michelle was thinking irritably, to communicate with children whose language she didn’t speak, though she had to admit if she weren’t so worried about Tom she might be trying a little harder herself.
‘So what’s on the agenda today?’ she finally ventured, as they turned out of Mill Lane to join the main road.
Though Molly’s eyes remained fixed on her mobile, she didn’t sound particularly hostile as she said, ‘Usual lessons.’
Molly shrugged. ‘French is OK. So’s history.’ She finished tapping into her mobile and turned to look at Michelle. ‘So how long are you staying?’ she asked bluntly.
Michelle kept her eyes on the road. ‘Oh, I’m not sure yet,’ she answered breezily. ‘A few more weeks.’
‘Aren’t you missing it over there?’
‘Yes, but I’m enjoying being here.’
Molly sniffed, as though not really believing it, and turned to stare out of the window. ‘What about Robbie?’ she suddenly blurted. ‘Don’t you miss him?’
‘Of course,’ Michelle answered.
‘So why aren’t you over in America with him?’
‘He lives with his father and stepmother, but I visit as often as I can.’ Then, after a pause, ‘Have you ever been to America?’
‘No. Why doesn’t he live with you?’
‘It’s a long story, but between you and me, I wish he did.’
Molly fell silent again, leaving Michelle to reflect on the subtext of their short exchange, which had been all about Molly finding reasons for her to leave. She wasn’t surprised, but it added to her concern that Katie still hadn’t told her the truth.
Molly suddenly sat forward. ‘This song is wicked,’ she declared, and up went the volume.
By the time they arrived at the school, Molly was already clutching her bag, eager to jump out.
‘I can pick you up later, if you like,’ Michelle offered, as she prepared to slam the door.
‘No need. Thanks.’
‘Do you have everything? Money? Homework?’
‘Got it. See you,’ and throwing the door closed she ran to catch up with the other late arrivals.
Michelle sat watching her, envisaging a time in the future when it would be her, instead of Katie, being summoned to this sprawling, ugly mass of Sixties buildings. Such an event seemed to have no place in reality, nor did she want it to, for it would mean that Katie was no longer with them, so detaching from the thought, she turned the car around. Her mind drifted to another place, another world, where she and Tom had spent so much time together, and wasted so many opportunities to become as intimate as they had on her final afternoon. She longed for him now, and prayed to God that there would be some contact soon, something to tell her where he was, or at least that he was safe.
After picking up the day’s papers, she returned home to find Katie sitting in front of her laptop, still in her dressing gown and apparently engrossed in whatever she was reading on the screen.
‘Something interesting?’ Michelle asked, coming to look over her shoulder.
‘I’m not sure. It’s just the first web site that came up when I typed in P2OG,’ Katie answered.
Michelle frowned. ‘What’s that?’
Katie scrolled down. ‘It was in the message from Tom.’
Startled, Michelle said, ‘You mean he’s been in touch?’
‘Yes. Elliot called about twenty minutes ago.’
Michelle took a breath. ‘And you didn’t think to call me?’ she said.
‘I assumed Elliot would.’
Michelle waited for her to look up.
Finally registering the silence Katie sat back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, realizing how upset Michelle was. ‘When Elliot told me there was an email I just went straight online to read it.’
‘Then I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind,’ Michelle said.
‘Yes, of course.’ Katie immediately stood up for her to sit down. ‘He’s safe,’ she quickly assured her.
Bringing the email on to the screen Michelle started to read, still slightly thrown by the last few seconds, but quickly able to focus on Tom.
Elliot
thanks for arranging money. Will
pay back soonest. Sajid will
contact you with details of bank.
Farukh will meet him and bring to
me. Intend to leave P. in next few
days. This is looking big.
Intelligence driven. Start with
P2OG. Need all the b/g we can get.
Other web addresses to follow. Not
in my keeping right now. Will fwd
soonest.
M.? ZX & ZP HTAJWY TV NS QNP B
OJR?
QTAE DTZ
It took Michelle a few minutes to unravel the code, which ended with the two words ‘love you’, then turning the pad round for Katie to see the rest of it, she said, ‘I should put it in an email to Elliot.’
As she typed it in, Katie read the words aloud. ‘“?US and UK covert op in link with JEM?” Who’s JEM?’
‘It’s a fundamental Islamist group based in Pakistan,’ Michelle answered, sending the message then reaching for the phone.
Katie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Is he saying that our intelligence services are in cahoots with terrorists?’ she asked incredulously.
‘He’s suggesting it. The question marks mean he isn’t sure. What did you get from P2OG?’
‘I still haven’t read much, but I’ll go back to it now. Was Molly OK, by the way? Did you get there on time?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. She wants to know how long I’m staying.’
Katie’s head came up again, but before she could respond, Elliot had answered the phone.
‘Hi, it’s Michelle,’ she told him. ‘I’ve just sent you a translation of the last line. I think you’ll find it interesting. What are you getting from P2OG?’
‘It’s an acronym for Proactive Pre-emptive Operations Group,’ he told her, ‘which seems to be a secret counter-intelligence unit for dealing with terrorists and rogue states, though I haven’t come up with anything yet to say it actually exists. It just seems to be a recommendation from the Defense Science Board to the US Defense Department dating back to early 2002. I’ve sent it all on to Max, in Washington, to see what he can come up with.’
‘But essentially, if it does exist, what would it be?’
‘A kind of elite task force comprising intelligence and military whose primary function, as I see it, would be to stimulate terror attacks in order for the US to stage a quick response in any country it chose.’
Immediately registering the horrific potential of that, Michelle’s eyes moved to Katie, who could hear what was being said. ‘So do you think Tom’s found proof of its existence?’ she asked.
‘That’s not what he says. If anything, it’s what he’s looking for.’
‘What about the UK connection?’
‘I haven’t found one yet, but looking at your email, Tom obviously thinks there is one.’
Speaking loudly enough for Elliot to hear, Katie said, ‘Is it worth making a few calls to see if P2OG rings any bells here?’
‘Let’s hold fire for the moment,’ he answered. ‘Tom’s saying he should be out of Pakistan in the next few days, and we don’t want to alert anyone to the fact we’re on to this until we know what we’re actually dealing with.’
‘Of course,’ Katie responded.
‘Listen, I have to go now,’ Elliot said. ‘Don’t do anything until you hear from me again. Is Laurie with you by any chance?’
‘No, but we’re expecting her any minute,’ Michelle replied.
‘OK. If I haven’t spoken to her by the time she gets there, ask her to call.’
After ringing off Michelle went to pour herself a coffee.
‘I’m sorry,’ Katie said, watching her and sensing she still wasn’t quite forgiven. ‘I should have called you the minute I knew he’d been in touch.’
‘Yes, you should,’ Michelle responded. ‘But we’ll let it go now, mainly because you’re looking very pale. Are you all right?’
‘Hung-over,’ Katie confessed, ‘which you must be too.’
‘A bit.’
Katie smiled and nodded towards the dresser. ‘There’s a letter for you from the airline,’ she said.
Breaking it open Michelle read the few lines quickly, then tore the page into sma
ll pieces and stuffed them in the bin. ‘They’re sorry they haven’t been able to find my suitcase,’ she said, ‘so perhaps I’d like to get in touch with my insurer.’ Her voice was taut with anger. ‘That’s all my personal records gone, not to mention the computer itself and everything else that was in the bag.’
‘Don’t you need the letter to make a claim?’ Katie asked, glancing at the bin.
‘Do you seriously think I was insured?’
Katie inhaled, not entirely sure what to say next, partly because she knew that a lot of Michelle’s anger was still directed at her. ‘I should go and make myself presentable before Laurie arrives,’ she said, and getting up from the computer she left Michelle to continue reading the scant information she’d found so far regarding the P2OG.
Laurie had accessed Tom’s email through her Blackberry before leaving the hotel and was now on the phone to Elliot as she drove into Membury Hempton, sunglasses on to protect her eyes from the dazzling sun, and the windows half open to let in some air.
‘The fact that Tom’s getting out of Pakistan,’ Elliot was saying, ‘means he’s happy to leave that end of it to Farukh, who’ll be able to go deeper into the mosques and madrasas than he can. So my guess is, he’s decided there’s more to be gained from being here, or in the US, but until I’ve spoken to him we can’t know anything for certain.’
‘So you’re waiting for Sajid to be in touch now with the bank details?’ she said.
‘That’s right. The money’s already in Pakistan so it’ll only require a local transfer. Hang on, let me check who this other call’s from.’ A moment later he was back on the line. ‘No-one important,’ he said. ‘Now, since this is taking on all the hallmarks of a highly suspect joint-intelligence operation, I’m questioning the wisdom of allowing Katie to be involved.’