by Dan Fox
‘What’s your name?’
‘Marcel Jeveaux’
‘I’m Jean McKenzie.’
‘I know. It was in your papers.’
Jean looked at him through her one open eye, ‘what were you doing there?’
‘A little business with someone who didn’t show up.’
‘I heard shots.’
‘Yes, three.’
‘Was that you?’
‘Yes’
‘I hope you killed them all.’
‘No, only three, two at the scene and one died later in hospital.’
‘Did you know them?’
‘No, but I knew their type. They were from the Bangkok Star which left this morning. It will be six weeks or so before she returns.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I’ve been making phone calls.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘You stay here for another day or two, maybe as much as a week, then we have approximately six weeks in which to get you fit enough to get the others.’
‘You said ‘we’.’
‘Correct.’
Chapter 1
Indonesian Tropical Island, 2002
It was hot. Stupidly hot. The kind of hot you only got in the tropics when there’s so much humidity it’s almost raining. Sweat drains out of every pore and the only thing you would willingly die for is air conditioning and a lot of cold beer.
A small white panel van was driven awkwardly and hesitantly towards an unofficially reserved parking space very close to the night club entrance. To an expert onlooker the driver might have seemed inexperienced and nervous, verging on panic, perhaps a first time driver.
This was not quite his first time, but he’d not had any formal driving lessons, nor had he passed any recognised test. He’d only been taught the bare rudiments. He only knew enough to reach his destination, so something else was terrifying him.
The van was low on its axles certainly carrying a heavy cargo. The tyres were almost flat with the load and it took the driver several amateur attempts to manoeuvre the van into position. Fortunately for him there were no traffic police or wardens about or they might have spoken out.
Although it was late in the evening the temperature outside was still in the thirties. Even with the air conditioning ramped up to maximum, sweat soaked the driver’s armpits and ran in rivers down his back. He mopped his face repeatedly with a dirty cloth as he waited for his signal.
A few minutes later another man entered the night club. He was dressed like the club’s other patrons but he wore a lightweight buttoned-up jacket that appeared a little too big. A small backpack hung from one shoulder.
When he was deep inside the night club almost drowning in the heavy techno beat, he prayed to the heavens and triggered a small device which detonated his explosive vest. He was killed instantly as were many others standing close by. Panic broke out and the hoard of survivors, including some who were seriously injured, rushed out of the club and into the street. The local organiser of this spectacular event then decided to override the specific instructions he’d given to the van driver.
The explosives packed into the white van were detonated remotely and a huge quantity of Potassium Chlorate combined with accelerators generated a massive thermal explosion. This reduced the immediate area to rubble, killing and injuring over four hundred people who were either milling around in the street in panic or were still inside the night club.
The crater in the road where the van had been parked was over a metre deep bearing testament to the immense quantity of explosives involved. Over two hundred people had been killed, mainly foreigners who were holidaying in this tropical island paradise.
Islamabad, Pakistan – early 2012
The morning sun, bright and low in the sky, streamed through the windows into the sitting room of the large house. There in his favourite chair enjoying the sunlight and warmth it brought, sat a man the world’s security agencies would all love to have known better. For he was the man ultimately responsible for organising the tropical island terrorist outrage of ten years ago and was conspicuous by his absence from that event, preferring to stay at his home in Pakistan.
He liked to keep himself at arm’s length. Known as Massood Malhi, he lived in a very large dwelling which stood inside a walled compound on the outskirts of Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan. It was a much bigger than average property and in keeping with his status and position in the hierarchy.
Malhi, a short squat man approaching his sixties, was relaxing in his sitting room when a vicious smirk crossed his hard face as he recalled the devastation and the carnage resulting from that heinous act. He sat there enjoying the moment with the sun streaming through his windows, drinking his tea.
The moment faded and he continued mulling over another enormous project he had been given responsibility for in more recent times. He thought it the most ambitious task he had embarked upon and acknowledged it was full of potential pitfalls.
All in all the projects he had been given responsibility for had taken many years of his life which he had gratefully devoted to his cause and to the great Emir he worked for. They had also killed thousands of people.
When the local baker arrived at his home very early that morning with the usual delivery of bread and pastries, the basket contained another important item. It was a pre-paid mobile phone which Malhi had been waiting for. It was a simple signal that the final stages of his project had been approved. It was fully charged with enough credit for its single purpose. Malhi now knew he would shortly receive a most important call which would allow him to expand upon a few necessary details. He also knew that immediately the conversation ended the mobile phone had to be destroyed, broken into small pieces and disposed of where it would not be found.
Thereafter he would wait for another phone to be delivered. This could be in a few days, or weeks. His caller had many more important things to deal with but Malhi knew his project was vital. It looked like all his efforts and those of many of his colleagues were coming to fruition.
He had received excellent news from his good friend and colleague in New Delhi, India, that a recent visit from America by one of their protégés reported extremely good progress and that a cohesive plan was being put together. When this audacious plan was enacted, the World would stop in its tracks.
Over the years Massood Malhi had been instrumental in project managing a number of events which the rest of the world referred to as Terrorist Attacks. To him they were nothing of the kind. They were clear statements from the organisations he represented that the imperialist policies of the western powers would simply no longer be tolerated and neither would the constant berating and isolation of the Islamic world. The West should not be interfering in Muslim countries. It was none of their business. Their religion was the almighty Dollar which was an affront to all right minded people.
These statements were a declaration of war.
He knew for a fact that his God was on his side and that all the others he held in contempt were agents of the Devil. It was a simple philosophy and it had spurred him to organise some of the worst atrocities ever seen on the planet in modern times. He had been a sizeable cog in the organisational wheel for the despicable events of 9/11 and had played a very significant role in the Bali bombings amongst others. In more recent times part of his attention had been turned to the perpetual increase in the supply of arms and munitions to the lawless North West region of Pakistan and then over to the Taliban.
His current major project which took precedence over all others was to strike at the heart of the Great Satan and bring it whimpering to its knees.
He had yet to make his latest report on its progress, but the arrival of the new mobile phone that morning paved the way for that all-important call. He would be asked many searching questions about the project. The content of that phone conversation would be of great interest to many people and it was vital that the call and all of the others he made and
received remained absolutely secret.
Malhi was a careful man by nature and believed that the steps he had taken, and would continue to take, would protect him from unwanted attention. Several of the world’s security agencies had been studying him for years but his vigilance had given them nothing in the way of evidence. Whilst they continued to suspect him, he had given them no probable cause. He remained an enigma and hoped he would stay that way for many more years to come.
He checked that the new mobile phone was fully charged and the signal strength was good. He needed to be patient and wait, thinking he might ask his housemaid for some more tea but then considered that he could need to use the toilet at the wrong time if he drank any more. Sitting in his favourite chair, he continued to think through the project. Studying everything in the most laborious detail was the only way to ensure success.
In his previous reports about the project he had eluded to an audacious scheme which would ensure that the world sat up and took notice. He had people in many countries all striving towards the same overall objective and he could now see a clear plan as to how they could achieve what had been a long term goal.
Over the past few weeks he had welcomed a number of important visitors. These were not all particular friends of his but they worked for him on various strategic points. The enormity of the plan meant that there were more people involved than he would have ideally liked, but he felt he could handle the additional complications. He was confident that the right result would be achieved.
Very few of his visitors arrived at his front door as that would be simply asking for trouble. There was always someone watching his premises and Massood Malhi knew he had to be most careful. His visitors arrived at the compound disguised as tradesmen, or entered the compound hidden inside a pre-arranged delivery vehicle such as the butcher’s van.
Very occasionally they gained access through a house in an adjoining street and through an underground passageway or more accurately a very small and narrow tunnel which was so claustrophobic that only the bravest visitors would risk it. Occasionally Massood Malhi would meet people elsewhere in the area which required extensive and painstaking counter surveillance but was nevertheless still very risky.
His first visitor had been a senior lecturer and academic for New Delhi University in India who was of Pakistani origin. They had known each other for many years and he was one his most trusted aides. The man had come to report on their most important scheme which involved two boys, as they were referred to, and their work. To avoid the possibility of anything being picked up by eavesdropping devices, all general conversations avoided specific references to people or places which meant that anyone who didn’t know the subject matter would be hard pressed to understand any of the detail.
After they had exchanged the normal pleasantries, Malhi asked, ‘How are the boys getting along?’
His smartly dressed and imposing visitor replied, ‘They are doing exceptionally well which is why I wanted to talk with you in person. The opportunity which I discussed with you previously now has a real chance of success, but there are ‘additional needs’ which is why I am here today.’
‘Please elaborate’ said Malhi.
At that point the visitor took an ornate Sheaffer fountain pen from his traditional jacket pocket and started to write key words on his bright yellow notepad. When Malhi realised what was being written he beckoned his visitor to join him in the soundproof cellar where they could speak more freely. They would still be careful, paranoid some would say, and would avoid overt references to sensitive words. No-one could be absolutely sure just how far the ears of the CIA and other agencies could reach.
‘The boys’ had been planted into the USA over ten years ago on an educational pretext. They were nothing less than a sleeper cell in waiting and had worked hard both at college and in their respective careers. Their hard work and diligence had paid dividends leading them to positions of significant responsibility, but more importantly, trust and access. That access was to some of the most secure assets on the planet. And no-one had a clue as to their real background or intentions.
Two days later and after much deliberation, Malhi left his compound by taxi and was driven to the University of Islamabad. There he met with the head of the Science Faculty, again someone he had known for several years. Malhi was a frequent visitor to the University and one of their most prominent benefactors. His visit was therefore not unusual. Malhi explained to the Professor what was required and gave the scientist a few minutes to consider his needs. There were three main tasks to achieve and they would surely test the ingenuity and imagination of the several people who would need to be involved. Malhi also explained that on delivery of his requirements a large sum of money in American dollars would be handed over.
During their discussions the scientist made copious notes and heavily questioned a number of the principle points and how they could be executed. Malhi indicated that he wanted an answer, either a yes or a no, within a week. The scientist agreed to try.
Within a week Malhi received a message from the scientist saying that the two more straightforward requirements could be achieved within a few weeks, but that the third one could prove extremely difficult if not impossible and that he would be able to give Malhi a better idea in another week or so.
It was ten days later that an anxious Malhi received another message from the scientist saying a way had been found to produce the third requirement but it would take two or three months to generate a prototype and even then it might not work sufficiently well. The message also indicated that the developments would require substantial funding. Malhi acknowledged the message, re-iterated its importance to him, and arranged for a transfer of funds for the development work. Malhi again mentioned the substantial payment he was prepared to make for a successful conclusion.
After the best part of three months had passed Malhi received a message indicating that all three requirements were available and had been successfully and exhaustively tested. Malhi was ecstatic at the outcome and called his academic colleague in New Delhi to say that his discussions with the University had been successful.
Two days later the boys were informed via a coded message on an Internet chat site. All that was needed now was an opportunity. As long as Malhi had sufficient notice to organise the final links in the plan they had a real chance of success. Although he didn’t know it yet, the opportunity they needed was not too far away.
‘Careless talk costs lives’, was a saying that emanated during World War II in an attempt to make people more careful about what they said and who they said it to. Rumours and interesting tidbits of information spread like wildfire. Apparently private conversations could be overheard, e-mails could be intercepted and phone calls could be monitored. It took surprisingly little effort to gain the information you wanted if you had willing people in the right place at the right time.
The network that Malhi worked for was good at eavesdropping and ascertained that a much travelled and important celebrity would soon be on tour. They had even found out the one critical venue on the itinerary. What they didn’t know at this point was exactly when the tour would commence. Past intelligence suggested that the departure date could be four to six weeks ahead. That would give Malhi sufficient time to prepare for their master stroke. He would need to consider all the strands of the plan and be extremely careful how he drew them together.
Malhi was a good thinker and would sit for hours contemplating every cause and effect. That was his recipe for success in the past. This time it was even more important as there was no bigger prize. Eventually, after he had deliberated enough, he made a few rough notes and drew in a timeline of events. He called for a messenger and gave him one simple request that must be delivered with the utmost urgency. Less than forty-eight hours later another new mobile phone arrived hidden amongst another normal domestic delivery.
When the call came through he detailed the plan as much as he dared. The caller was impressed and wished
him luck. Malhi had now received assent for the final plan. He was almost dizzy with excitement and rested whilst he regained his composure.
He needed to get a message to his man in New Delhi, and similarly to his employee in Tehran. He also needed to make arrangements to meet with another colleague, an Intelligence Officer, who was at that time supposedly working for the Pakistani Government on a drug smuggling project based in Colombo, Sri Lanka.
This colleague was a crucial link in the chain and Malhi contacted him as quickly as possible and indicated that it was most important that they meet very soon as there was important work to be done. Malhi agreed to make one of his rare journeys away from Islamabad and meet up in the coastal city of Karachi. It would take a couple of days to organise their respective itineraries, but he reminded his colleague that time was of the absolute essence.
His colleague would book into a large but random hotel near the port of Karachi on arrival and Malhi would join him there. Malhi knew he was likely to be under surveillance but it would be virtually impossible for any trackers to bug a random room in an equally randomly chosen large hotel in another city at short notice. Any trackers were also unlikely to know the identity of his colleague and therefore were even more unlikely to make the link.
When Malhi met him at the chosen hotel his colleague had already changed rooms and had made doubly sure that he was not being watched. Their brief conversation concentrated on his colleague’s ability to secure a vessel that could be at sea a few hundred miles east of Sri Lanka at a certain point in time in the near future. Malhi gave him brief details of the requirement and being careful not to divulge too much critical information, gave his colleague the reasons why the vessel was needed. Someone who could be trusted needed to send a radio signal whilst the ship was at sea. Without giving any more away at this point Malhi added that the signal would have to be sent at an exact time and from an absolutely precise position.
