by Ted Tayler
The burnt-out BMW attracted several early morning commuters as they drove or cycled into Swindon to work. At the police station, they received one call after another reporting the matter. The desk sergeant tried to fob people off as long as possible; he knew he would not be popular sending someone out until it warmed up. The paperwork in the office was always more appealing on a winter’s morning.
In a flat near the town centre, Sondra Lovett wished she hadn’t downed so many Bacardi’s. It was that bloke at the bar’s fault. He looked alright. If he hadn’t thought she was a tart looking for business, she would have been more careful on the booze. As it happened, she got pissed. She could hear Cyrus in the bathroom. Why couldn’t he aim for the side? Bringing him back had been a disaster. She hoped he would shove off home soon. Sondra hurt all over, he was so big, everywhere. Why was life so bloody unfair?
Colin stood on the station platform. There was still no sign of Andy Partridge. The Paddington train was due to arrive in two minutes. Life really did go on as normal.
Except that is, for the Ahmed and Hussein brothers.
Oh, and the Old Town nightclub would be without a few of their big spenders.
Colin chuckled to himself as he left Swindon station. Life is about balance: good and bad, right and wrong, lucky and unlucky. The brothers’ luck ran out. The clients with those accounts with the gang were the lucky ones. Nobody was left to collect the money they owed.
Colin could still taste the full English he had enjoyed at the Holiday Inn. Very enjoyable it had been too. On the downside, it did not entirely stop him from remembering the smell of the BMW blazing away last night. He looked out of the window and watched the pleasant Wiltshire countryside flash past him.
His senses were working overtime, you might say.
CHAPTER 9
Colin arrived back in his quarters at Larcombe just over an hour later. He returned the kit he had taken on his trip to Bazza in the armoury and congratulated him on his choice. After a phone call to the main building, he got the call to visit Erebus in the meeting room at the manor house.
Erebus stood by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out across the lawns. He looked preoccupied. When Colin entered the room, he beckoned him to join him.
“Good morning, dear boy.”
“Mission completed, sir.”
“Well done Phoenix. What would I do without you?”
“Anything from the meeting this morning I need to be brought up to speed on, sir?”
“Yes, we have received more intelligence from the mole inside the cell, Abdul Rivzi. To fill you in on his background, Abdul runs lucrative traffic in fake brand-name clothing. We overlook this if he provides his handler with useful information on the day-to-day working of the cell. A small cluster such as the one in Milton Keynes is still dangerous; it is empowered by modern communications. It has access to weapons and explosives. Although they are strategically unfocused at present–it leads them to be elusive and unpredictable. His latest intelligence suggests that the militant leaders of his group are less concerned with doctrinal depth than their obsession with their beards. More concerned with developing a distinctive pattern of patois speech, an open disdain for women, and an aversion to jewellery. Many of the cell members are born again Muslims or converts from non-Muslim societies drafted in via the prison system. This worries me Phoenix. Life was so much easier when terrorists were fanatical but predictable. At the weekends, Abdul says they drive into the country and camp out. They pretend to be akin to the Mujahideen in Chechnya and live on pita bread and tuna. They play paintball games mimicking battlefield scenarios where they kill non-believers. These activities are even videoed and sent off to their superiors. Every exercise they undertake has an overt military context. He has had handgun training every weekend. Oxford Circus was already a target when he joined the cell. As that mission failed, his cell is still in training. But they are out of the loop for ‘bang up to date’ information as a punishment. As the London 2012 Games grow closer, though, it is obvious they need to be prepared. At any time, they expect to receive the news they are to be involved in the proposed strikes. At the moment, location and timing of such strikes are unknown. At least to the cell at Milton Keynes.”
“The increased frequency of intelligence coming from Rivzi must inevitably increase the risk of him being exposed as a mole though sir? Do we have any contingency plan for bringing him out if things go pear-shaped?”
“We discussed that matter this morning. It would be unfortunate for Rivzi if he was found to be less sympathetic to the cause than supposed. It could be far more damaging for Olympus if we lost contact with him. We believe he is one of our best assets, in identifying where and when they will hit the Games.”
“Although Rivzi reports that the cell doesn’t have the ‘doctrinal depth’ of a number of their colleagues, ‘unfortunate’ could still be a euphemistic description of what would happen if his double role is uncovered.”
“That is a risk Mr Rivzi has to take Phoenix. We cannot afford to lose him.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“A prisoner transfer will take place between HMP Belmarsh and HMP Wakefield in ten days’ time.”
“What’s behind this, sir?”
“The prison population in England and Wales has hit a record high, Phoenix. The Ministry of Justice says the figure rose another five hundred in the past week alone. Officials are making contingency plans to speed up opening new buildings and bringing moth-balled accommodation back into use. There are now around sixteen hundred useable places left in the system, but prison chiefs say they stay confident they have enough to cope with those imprisoned by the courts. The Prison Service says they are developing contingencies to increase usable capacity. The pressure is most acute in London, so, inmates are to transfer out of the capital to other institutions to free up space. This removal of difficult and dangerous prisoners to Wakefield will be the first in a series of moves.”
“It seems daft that logically, we need more prisons, so we can lock up the scum I’ve just been handling. Along with the other lowlifes, we meet. Who thought it a good idea to stop building prisons? Or more to the point, who reckoned it a good idea to give the government’s hangman his P45.”
“We must handle things as they are, Phoenix, not as we wish them to be,” said Erebus. He moved away from the window and sat in one of the easy chairs by the fireplace. Colin took a seat opposite him as the old man continued.
“The rapid increase in prison numbers means that parts of the system are little more than human warehouses. They do nothing more than lock people up in overcrowded conditions, with regimes that are hard-pressed to offer any employment or education. A few first-time offenders will undoubtedly take a fast track to a criminal career. Rehabilitation work to tackle re-offending will go by the board as jails try to cope with the rapid rise in prisoner numbers. Prison and probation officers are increasingly overstretched. It is vital that these staffs get the resources and support they need.”
Colin was well aware of the negative effects that prison had on a large percentage of offenders. But he still believed it better for them to be banged up than to receive a pathetic non-custodial sentence that seemed in favour these days.
“The system is what it is, sir, as you pointed out just now. How much do we know about this proposed switch? Have we any intelligence on who might be on board the van? How long does the journey take? Which route do they follow? Perhaps, more importantly, do we have a plan for ensuring these prisoners do not reach their intended destination?”
Erebus smiled.
“Always eager to get on with things aren’t you, dear boy? As we understand it, the trip takes around four hours. They negotiate the M25 and then take the M1 North via Newport Pagnell. They leave the motorway at Junction 40 and then they take the A638 towards Wakefield. About the makeup of the transferees, they will be Muslims with known terrorist affiliations. There will be a maximum of twelve prisoners. There may be the
odd empty place in the vehicle due to illness on the day.”
“Twelve, are they sure they can round up that many?” asked Colin. He knew in his heart of hearts that the number would be a drop in the ocean. He liked winding up Erebus; the old man didn’t fail him. He walked over to the main table and picked up a file. He launched into ‘statistics-mode’ and read from a sheet he pulled from the file.
“HMP Belmarsh is one of our most secure prisons and is home to many of its most dangerous offenders–including a large swathe of terrorism convicts. Many high-profile terror suspects have passed through the high-security jail of late. Muslim prisoners made up just one in seven of Belmarsh inmates two years ago. That proportion has climbed to one in five, with no signs it has stopped climbing. The number of foreign nationals in HMP Belmarsh, in general, has increased by a third. The situation at Belmarsh mirrors a nationwide shift, with data suggesting a doubling in Muslim inmates across the country over the past decade. There were around ten thousand in our jails at the end of last year.”
“Right then,” said Colin getting up from his chair and joining his boss at the table, “how are we going to reduce that number?”
“We talked through a few ideas this morning Phoenix. The route that the van takes virtually negates any realistic opportunity of an attack until they leave the motorway. So, one way suggested we concentrate our efforts in the tiny window between Junction 40 and HMP Wakefield.”
“Sorry, sir, but don’t talk daft, that’s no more than a five-minute drive from the junction.”
“Hold your horses Phoenix. I didn’t say it was an option to which we gave any credence. We thought of stopping the transfer vehicle on the motorway, perhaps by arranging an accident, followed by an attack designed to release the prisoners. The assailants would be wearing clothes suggesting terrorist sympathisers carried out the raid. There are several pitfalls with that idea too, I’m sure you will tell me what they are.”
Colin shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, the first problem is causing an accident without hurting innocent people. The volume of traffic on the M1 during daylight hours is substantial.”
“It is used by ninety thousand vehicles per day.”
“Enough said. Even if you stopped the truck without incident, you would have an audience. Let us assume everyone sits quietly in their vehicles as the traffic builds up behind the accident, or breakdown, whichever you arrange. The security of prisoner transport vehicles is paramount. Two communication systems run without the need for opening windows or doors. The driver's comms operation is usually fully hands-free. The rear of the truck can also be hands-free or the vehicle could be fitted with headset sockets or telephone handsets. Most of the ones they use these days have high-security locking and unlocking systems with stainless steel electronic bolts. To stop the vehicle will be the easy part. To get inside and release the prisoners is one thing. The task of emptying the driver’s cab and removing the truck to a more convenient place would be a different kettle of fish. The officers inside the vehicle could call for back up by mobile phone before we could gain entry. We need more ingenuity.”
“Do you have something in mind, Phoenix?” asked Erebus.
“Give me a day or two, sir. I believe we can do this without any accidents. Without there being any spectators. Olympus will stay off the radar too as far as any responsibility for a dozen terrorists disappearing into thin air.”
“Forty-eight hours then Phoenix. Bring your detailed plans and present them to the executive at the morning meeting. I shall be away tomorrow but hope to return before then. Elizabeth has not been well; her condition has deteriorated. The doctors at the nursing home are concerned that she may have given up, old chap. It does not seem possible that a person could will themselves to die. But, Helen’s death was so catastrophic for her it appears to be the case.”
Colin understood now why the boss had been standing by the window when he arrived, and why he had looked so distracted. Colin knew about loss. He and Erebus had found a mechanism through which they could cope. They fought back against the injustices. Now and then, the loss overtook them. Erebus had been gazing across the immaculate lawns of his family home. He may have imagined himself and his wife sitting together on the patio as they watched Helen riding her horse across the estate.
Colin often heard a song that reminded him of Sharron singing a track by her favourite group. He caught a scent that reminded him of his second wife, Sue. Whatever challenges these next few months brought; Colin knew he could never lower his guard. While the threat of terrorist attacks existed, and criminals remained unpunished, he must stay focused. There was no time for emotion.
Erebus returned to the window. He had removed the honeymoon picture of him and Elizabeth in Ibiza from the drawer of the table under the window. The picture he had shown Colin on his first full day at Larcombe Manor.
Colin left Erebus with his memories.
CHAPTER 10
The first person Colin saw when he left the room was Athena. She made it clear she was pleased to see him. Athena pushed him back against a massive painting of Trafalgar and kissed him passionately.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she purred.
“I’ve missed you too,” said Colin, pushing her gently away. A steward emerged from a doorway further along the corridor, but fortunately, they were far enough apart to appear as if deep in conversation. Rather than recovering their breath after an amorous clinch. “But we need to cool it. Erebus will have kittens if he hears we are involved.”
“Ooh,” sighed Athena, with a pout, “we are involved then?”
Colin realised that this was the moment. He had known ever since the night they slept together that this conversation would come. After meeting with Erebus, he was in no doubt any emotional distraction would harm the chances of Olympus making it through the summer without significant loss of innocent lives.
Colin suggested he and Athena walk over to the orangery. He always enjoyed meeting there with Erebus. It was comforting and as private a place as one could find on the estate. They strolled over, side by side, in silence.
When they arrived indoors once more, Colin took Athena’s hands in his.
“Athena,” he began, “the other night was something both of us wanted and enjoyed.”
“I need to be with you again, soon.”
“We have to focus on the enemies that this country faces. These next few months will present Olympus with a series of challenges. Any of them could be a disaster if we are more concerned with our emotions than with the cold, hard facts surrounding any potential terrorist strikes.”
“What about us?”
“There'd be plenty of time for us after this is over.”
They kissed.
“Can we still spend quality time together if there’s a chance?”
Athena raked her fingers down Colin’s back and her tongue fought its way into his mouth. Her hips pressed against him and from the response she got from Colin’s body, she knew there was only one answer he could give.
“Are you doing anything tonight?”
“Not sleeping, that’s for sure,” she grinned, cupping his erection in her hand.
“Hold that thought,” he said, breaking away from her grasp. “I have work to do. Erebus has to visit Elizabeth. I need to plan the direct action on the prison transfer in time for the morning meeting, the day after tomorrow.”
“All work and no play,” whispered Athena as they walked hand in hand to the door of the orangery.
Colin gave her a quick kiss goodbye before they left the building. They arranged to meet up later and Colin headed for his quarters. What he needed now was to keep a clear head and find background data. He rang Giles in the intelligence section and put in a request. Giles said he would email the information to him within the hour.
Colin wondered about a cold shower, but opted instead, to run to the old worker’s cottages. A visit to the pool was required to clear his head and to stop him thinking how
good it felt to hold Athena again.
Twenty lengths of the pool sorted him out, but all that time splashing from end to end started him thinking of Therese Slater. Now he and Athena were a reality; might it be time for Therese to go?
Colin sighed as he towelled himself dry after his swim and got dressed. Not for the first time he wondered why this ‘relationship’ lark was so complicated.
When he got back to his room, he found that Giles had furnished the details he needed. Colin set to work analysing the procedures that HMP Belmarsh needed to follow.
• Select named prisoner for transfer
• Check prisoner meets criteria for receiving establishment
• Obtain the name of a person with the authority to accept the prisoner at receiving establishment
• Complete the booking form
• Fax booking form to the office by noon Thursday for moves the following week
• If the trip can be completed in a day, a contractor faxes both establishments on the day before the move
• The contractor collects as specified in the movement fax and delivers the same day
Colin made a note to double-check HMP Wakefield’s criteria. Then he listed the actions he needed Giles and his team to carry out over the next few days. Colin had been educated in the KISS principle–Keep It Simple and Stupid. His plan was simplicity itself, provided the information he requested was to hand. With one problem sorted, he lay on his bed and wondered what to do about Therese Slater.
He remembered that morning in Blackpool when she asked those questions and he had tap-danced his way around the truth.
He could hear her now, saying, “I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand how you could be dead, but now you’re not. Do the people you work for know who you are? How have you become entitled to the holiday so soon? What kind of job is it, anyway?”
