by Merle Nygate
‘I am,’ Sahar smiled at Petra.
Together they walked out of the café and into the corridor that led to the exit.
‘Do you know what’s going on with Aneeta and Sergei?’ Petra said. ‘Have they had some sort of fight?’
‘A small one, I think. Aneeta wants Sergei to come to Spain with her when the course is finished but Sergei’s father is in London.’
‘It doesn’t seem like a big problem, is it?’ Petra said.
‘I think Sergei is worried that his father may not like Aneeta.’
‘How could anyone not like Aneeta?’
‘Yes. That is true,’ Sahar said. ‘Petra, may I ask you a favour?’
‘Of course,’
‘I am not taking my bag today, it is heavy, but I have my writing book with me with all my work. Will you take it and look after it?’
’Sure, I’ll keep it safe.’
Petra held out her hand for the dusky pink notebook, there were loose sheets and a post card of London slipped out. She picked it up from the floor and put the book in her shoulder bag.
‘Okay?’
‘Yes,’ Sahar said. ‘Okay.’
Outside the front door of the school the bus door was open, Mick was at the wheel and the rest of the class were already in their seats. Petra guided Sahar to go in front of her then climbed aboard.
Standing in the aisle she counted the students. Aneeta was sitting with Sahar leaving Sergei on his own concentrating on his phone and avoiding contact. The bus started to move off.
‘Seat belts, please,’ Petra said. From the bag on her seat, Petra pulled out the promotional material that went with the tickets and handed them around. There were folders for each of the students with their passes on lanyards, information about the various events at the Tattoo, the programme and a map.
Ignoring her own seat belt directive, Petra knelt on the seat looking at the students over the top of the headrest.
‘Has everyone got a pack?’ Petra said. They nodded. ’You need the pack to get in and you need your pass which you have to wear at all times. It’s got your photograph on so check it. When we get there Mick will drop us off at one of the gates. It is VERY important that you remember which gate it is because that’s the gate where we will leave from. There are thousands of people there; if you get lost, find the information tent or text me. Okay?’
There were more nods, although Aneeta was whispering to Sahar and no doubt telling her what the row was about.
‘Aneeta, please. Just give me five minutes. Could everyone check that you have your passes and maps. And my mobile number.’
There was a rustle while the students went through the process that they’d carried out on each cultural excursion giving it about the same attention as frequent flyer air passengers give to safety instructions. While they were leafing through the plastic folders Petra took out her own pass and put the lanyard around her head.
‘Has everyone checked?’ Petra said. There were more nods. ‘Then enjoy the rest of the journey.’
Petra turned around and slumped down on the seat. As soon as she got to the Tattoo she would find the nearest café and grab some thinking time. Having laid out her cards on the table and admitted that she had Wasim in a safe place – risky enough in itself – Petra had to keep him that way. That meant second guessing and third guessing in this human chess game, anticipating the moves that her opponents might make. It was lowering to consider that Benny and Rafi were opponents but that’s how it was.
To locate a café quickly Petra slid the map out of the plastic folder and opened it out on her lap.
The image jumped out at her; it blurred and then came back into focus. She was gaping at a full-colour version of the drawing she’d found in Sahar’s bag.
It took Petra a full minute to calm her breathing to the point where she could think rationally. In an almost detached way she noticed that her right hand – the hand that held the map – was trembling. She used her left hand to still the tremor.
‘Christ,’ Petra said aloud.
They were at traffic lights and Mick turned and smiled at her.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes,’ Petra said. Her voice was tight and didn’t invite further conversation. Disappointed, Mick turned back to the road.
If Sahar had hidden in her bag a hand-drawn map of the Tattoo grounds then the location must have significance for her. Either she was meeting someone there or worse.
‘Operations do not always run smoothly. In fact they rarely do and you will have to be quick thinking and adaptable to changes in the situation.’ That’s what Alon had told her; he liked to quote Von Clausewitz and talk about war. He preferred to sit in her flat where he could smoke. Over endless cups of tea and coffee, Alon would smoke cigarette after cigarette; narrowing his eyes; waving the smoke away and coughing – even then.
‘If there is a problem, you need to think slow and act fast,’ Alon said. ‘Use waiting time to analyse the situation and work out your tactics.’
Petra felt dizzy for a few seconds; around her there was the chatter and laughter of the students and she was desperate to tell them to shut up so she could think.
Then she saw it – as clearly as a plunge in icy water. No wonder the bastards were happy to agree to a meeting on Sunday; all that crap about getting higher authority to sign off; citing organisational bureaucracy. Sahar was going to be arrested at the Tattoo and once that happened there wasn’t much Petra could do.
Petra cast her mind back to Bath; Sahar guided along the street by Benny – carrying a sports bag. A sports bag. Any equipment she might use would be in the bag. That was it. Petra felt the logic of her conclusion in a sense of horrified satisfaction that was visceral.
If they’d deliberately duped Petra about the time and location of this operation, there was no reason to believe that they weren’t going to let the girl blow herself up. And how likely was it that Petra would be allowed to roam free with that information, Jew or no Jew. She wouldn’t be the first whistle-blower who’d disappeared, and for all Benny’s assurances events could escalate out of his control. What had she done?
Petra took out her mobile phone and held it in her hand. Her finger hovered over the keys trying to work out her next step.
The police? Forget it. She was in too deep with Wasim stashed away.
Through the front of the minibus she had a clear view of the road ahead. The steady progression down the dual carriageway had changed as they joined other cars and transport heading to the airfield.
‘How far away are we, Mick?’ Petra called over the chugging of the diesel engine.
He looked at the satnav, ‘Another five minutes and we should be there.’
‘Thanks.’
Five minutes. Not much time to think.
57
RAF Fairborough, Oxfordshire – Ten Minutes Later
Eli tucked the microphone into his ear and tried to shift it into a more comfortable position. Satisfied that its location was about as good as it could be he got out of the car and started to set up the picnic table on the grassy field that was being used for parking. Nearby, Segev and his crew, dressed for the occasion in cut-offs, tee shirts and open sandals, unloaded a picnic. There were plastic containers, a hamper, and a crate of beer. They looked like tourists. Once they’d unloaded and the trestle table was set up the squad lounged against the side of the car and seemed to be using their binoculars to look at the fly past overhead. There was nothing in their manner to suggest that they were anything other than a bunch of kids with their older relative – him – having a day out.
‘Zero Seven,’ Eli said into his tee shirt. ‘We’re in position, with a good view of the event. Copy.’
There was a crackle in his ear that made him want to take the microphone out but then the volume was adjusted and he heard clearly.
‘Tango 28 copy. We have the other entrance.’
‘Good. Any sign of Alpha Four.’ That was Rafi’s call sign. ‘He ha
s the product.’
‘I’m here, Zero Seven,’ Eli heard in his ear. ‘I have the product.’
‘Okay Alpha Four.’
Segev was nudging Eli. It might have looked as if he was offering him his binoculars to look at the fly past of the P149 American biplane that was overhead, but in fact he was pointing Eli towards the track at the main entrance. There, a minibus was being guided by the parking marshals into the section for larger vehicles.
‘We have visual,’ Eli said. ‘70621 coordinates. Heading that way now. Contact at 55209 coordinates. Go.’
Leaving one lad by the picnic table the surveillance team separated into two pairs and two singles and ambled in the direction of the minibus – as if their only interest was to get a good position to watch the next fly past and enjoy the day.
Having been there since the gates had opened, the team had scoped the best positions to survey the grounds. It was an almighty task as the event was spread over twenty-five acres.
The plan was for Sweetbait to separate as quickly as possible from the student group and make her way to the Vintage Village. There Eli would find her and take her to one of the exhibitors’ caravans where she would be given the belt. Then she would walk towards the Techno Zone and long before she reached there she’d be stopped by primed MI5 and police officers.
Even though there was hardly any explosive in the belt and the detonator was set to malfunction Eli had planned the shortest possible distance between picking up the belt and being arrested.
Once Rafi had delivered the belt to the caravan, he was tasked with diverting Trainer if necessary to keep her away from the arrest.
The problems began the moment that Sahar stepped down from the minibus. She was supposed to get through the customer point and then walk along the main concourse on her own – trusting that she would be picked up by a contact who would be holding amber beads like her own.
But that wasn’t happening.
From his vantage point standing on a ladder in the car park, Eli saw Petra take the girl’s arm. She was talking to her intently. Another girl came up to the pair. Dark flowing hair. Animated, Petra seemed to be telling them what they were supposed to do. The dark girl went off leaving Trainer with Sweetbait.
‘Has anyone got a fix on what they’re saying?’ Eli said into his mike.
There was a howl and boom of an overhead jet, then the crackle in his ear. ‘We keep losing it, but Trainer is trying to persuade Sweetbait to do something.’
58
RAF Fairborough, Oxfordshire – Five Minutes Later
‘Sahar, I know why you are here. I know what you’re planning and you have to trust me, you have to get out of here. Now.’
The girl’s eyes opened so wide that they were bulging.
‘I... I do not understand. Why, what are you saying this thing? I have to go. I must go.’
She turned and tried to move off. Petra grabbed the girl’s forearm and was surprised how slight it was. There was nothing on her. No muscle, no fat; she was fragile, like a bird.
‘I know that you met someone in Bath because I followed you. You must not trust him, Sahar. He doesn’t want to help you. If you do what he says you will be in trouble – big trouble. Do you understand?’
‘You followed me? You saw me with... Who are you? You are the one I cannot trust.’
She started muttering in Arabic. Petra couldn’t understand what she was saying but the girl looked wild. Crazed. Like an animal who was trapped and needed to fight her way out.
‘He told to me that you, someone like you would be... you come and you are not true. I know that. You are not true and it is wrong. I must go. You must go. I think you are my friend. I think you are good, but –’
‘I am good. I am true, Sahar. I might not be a Moslem but I want to help and protect you. I understand that this is difficult but they have lied to you so that you do what they want. It is not to help your people. It is to help the Israelis.’
‘The Israelis? I not believe – who are they? Who are you?’
‘Later; now I have to get you out of here before the police get to you. You have to trust me, Sahar. I will protect you. Do you understand?’
The girl was crying and shaking. Petra put her hand on her shoulder to try to steady her. ‘Listen to me, I promise I will look after you. Nothing bad will happen. But do not go with whatever the man called himself. If you see him, stay away. Okay? See that stall there, the one with the vintage hats – stay there for one minute. Where I can see you.’
Petra took two steps away from the shaking girl and took out her phone. She dialled, she waited. She called again, the phone was answered.
‘Deanna, where are you? I need to borrow your car. There’s been an accident and I need to get one of the students –’
‘Which one?’ Deanna said.
Petra could hear clinking glasses in the background. ‘Sahar. Serious enough for the St John Ambulance people. Yeah, she’s in the tent with them now. No, no, you don’t need to come over.’ Petra looked over at Sahar quivering by the vintage hat stand. The girl’s face was grey with fear. Petra smiled at her as she continued talking to Deanna. ‘If you tell me where you are I’ll pick up your keys and get her out of here.’
Transport arranged Petra took Sahar’s arm, ‘I’m going to take you somewhere safe but we must go quickly. Come.’
Sahar took five steps, tripped and then seemed to buckle at the knee. ‘I’m sorry, I... I cannot go fast. I am not good. I am sick.’
Petra looked her over, could she carry her? No. Drag her along, hardly. And if Sahar went slowly, at the pace her quivering limbs could manage, then the chances of being picked up by Benny and the gang were multiplied. Regrettably Petra had no choice; it would be faster to leave the girl and come back with the keys. Petra could run; the girl couldn’t and at the moment Sahar looked as if she would collapse to the ground.
Petra eased Sahar back towards the vintage hat stand and smiled down at the shaking girl. ‘Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. I’m going to get some transport. Okay? You stay here, wait for me, keep out of sight at the back of the stall. I promise I’ll protect you. Nothing bad will happen. Do you understand?’
‘Yes... yes... I understand.’
The deep frown line splitting Sahar’s brows softened, ‘You are true. I know that you are true.’
59
RAF Fairborough, Oxfordshire – Three Minutes Later
‘Zero Seven to Alpha Four. Trainer has left the perimeter. Tail her and detain her.’
‘Alpha Four to Zero Seven,’ Rafi said. ‘Negative. I am just fixing the product.’ He sounded preternaturally calm. ‘One thing at a time, Zero Seven.’
‘Alpha Four – it’s daylight with Trainer.’
‘What?’ Rafi said. ‘I can’t leave this, really not... not even for a few minutes.’
‘Understood.’
Eli walked across the decking that had been laid across the ground between the stalls. People were all over the place, right and left and straight ahead. Breaking into a jog, Eli realised how out of condition he was, but there was Sweetbait ahead of him; standing by a hat stand looking lost and out of place. Before he drew up to her Eli wiped the sweat off his face on his shirt and schooled his features into one of calm and reassurance. As if everything was normal and everything was going to proceed as planned.
‘Maha’ba, shaheeda,’ Eli said softly.
The girl was holding a green felt hat in her hands; she dropped it as if it was on fire.
‘It is normal for martyrs to feel fear before Shihada,’ Eli said. ‘But the fears will go when we pray together. We have a sacred place set aside to do this. It will be my honour to lead you there.’
She looked panicked and confused to the point of being speechless.
‘Allah, hear us, hear your humble servants,’ Eli said. ‘Most blessed shaheeda, I must ask, were you spared, or did the devil come to you? How often that happens. How cunning are the forces against us. I wish I migh
t have been here to face the devil by your side and we could have sent it on its way standing together.’
‘She is... she is not; she said the people I will help are –’
‘She? The devil in the form of a woman? Ah habibti, that is the cruellest form that Iblis can take. I see it now – maybe she was like a mother to you. Someone you thought you could trust, someone honourable and true. But they wouldn’t be devils if they were not cunning, would they? Come, come with me; I will protect you. I am here now and I will stay by your side until the end; until the final moments. How blessed we are that today you will be taken aloft to the arms of Allah.’
60
RAF Fairborough, Oxfordshire – 11 Minutes Later
Petra found Deanna waiting for her outside the hospitality tent. She was chatting animatedly to a tall man. Hovering, Petra allowed Deanna to disentangle herself; aware that she was sweaty and dusty and stank from the run. After a few moments, Deanna gave her empty glass to the man and looking pleased with herself strolled over towards Petra.
‘There’s always one, every course, there’s always one problem student,’ Deanna said. ‘Where is she?’
‘I left her with the St John Ambulance people,’ Petra said.
‘What on earth happened? You said accident?’
‘Not exactly accident. She had a panic attack when she heard the first supersonic boom from the F16 fighter plane display. Luckily St John Ambulance was right next to us but they can’t prescribe. They just said the best thing would be to get her away from the Tattoo as quickly as possible.’
Deanna sighed, ‘This is all very awkward, but on the other hand Rod won’t feel like driving back after lunch so it might all be for the best. I’m sure I can shepherd the rest of them back on the minibus. Very well.’ Deanna fished into her tiny bag and handed Petra the keys to the Mercedes Estate.