by Matt Johnson
It was my turn to be firm. Monaghan’s attitude had changed. He was now giving us orders as if we were, once again, under his command.
‘You know where he is?’ I asked. ‘That’s a bit short notice.’
Monaghan turned to face me. ‘Now you listen to me, Finlay. We have one chance and one chance only to get to this man before he leaves the country. I know where he will be tomorrow night. After that he could go anywhere. If we are to recover the files, you must get him to tell you where they are … you must persuade him to tell you and then you must kill him.’
We stood quietly for a moment.
Again, Kevin spoke first. ‘I guess there isn’t a choice.’
I was starting to lose my cool. Defending myself and my family was one thing. Committing murder was quite another.
‘There’s always a choice,’ I said. ‘Why not let MI5 deal with him the way they always used to. Bring him in, drug him, do what they have to do and he can spill what you need without us taking any more risks.’
Monaghan glared at me. ‘Not getting cold feet are you, Captain? The fact is that we’re in this too deep to get out. MI5 haven’t made it official.’
Kevin held up his hands to silence us. ‘That’s enough. Fact is, boss, Finlay doesn’t have the stomach to kill the Arab. You’ll have to leave that bit to me. Now what I want to know is about these files. I’ve heard there aren’t any files missing.’
Monaghan turned to him. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘An old mate.’
‘You’ve been to Hereford, which I would guess is also how you identified the Arab. You see Kevin, I know that Anwar has only been active for a few years. There was no way you could have recognised him.’
‘OK, so maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But what about the files? How come no one at Hereford knows about any missing files?’
‘Need to know, Kevin. Simple as that. It was decided that the boys at Hereford were better off not knowing.’
It was my turn to speak. ‘Wouldn’t do your credibility much good if they were to find out it was you who had lost the files.’
Monaghan again reacted angrily. ‘What do you mean by that?’
My brain was working overtime. An idea had come to me why Monaghan was in such a rush. I drew breath. ‘The game’s up, boss. My grey matter may be getting slow but I’ve been spending quite a bit of time wondering why you really want this sorted so quietly and quickly. You don’t want anyone knowing the files came from your office and we are going to help you keep a clean slate.’
‘Draw your own conclusions, Finlay. Call my club from a public phone box at midday tomorrow, SO13 are tapping your phone. Be ready.’
Monaghan turned on his heel and walked smartly away. Even with the heavy coat and the ridiculous hat, he looked like a marching soldier.
We watched, silently, until he had left the park gate.
Chapter 66
Kevin and I stood in silence for a moment, taken aback by the strange, irritable figure Monaghan had cut.
‘Tapping your phone are they?’ said Kevin at last.
‘Should I be surprised? Grahamslaw will be watching me like a hawk,’ I replied.
‘So, do you think we’re being watched right now?’
‘Probably … which is why Monaghan was disguised and why he suggested meeting somewhere so open. Nobody could get close enough to hear us.’
‘Telescopic mike, maybe?’
‘A lot of background noise … and the nearest cover is easily a couple of hundred yards away.’
I had a look around. If someone was watching us, they were good. I’d been looking for a tail on the drive into London. Nothing had stayed behind me for more than a few moments. As a precaution, I’d taken a roundabout route using a lot of side streets. At that time of the day, there weren’t many cars around and a lot of the time the road had been empty behind me. I wasn’t sure, but it looked to me like we were in the clear.
‘He wasn’t in a mood to negotiate, was he?’ Kevin folded his arms. There was a look on his face that told me he had accepted the inevitable.
‘No … he’s not really given us a lot of choice.’
‘So you reckon that’s what this is all about?’
‘Protecting his reputation?’ I asked. ‘I think so. What we mustn’t forget is will he be prepared to back us up if things go bent again?’
‘As we’d be the only ones to know his secret?’
‘I don’t trust him. Tell me I’m being paranoid, but I think it would be tidier for him if we were to disappear. Who’d miss us after all? Just our families, and they’d be told some kind of story to keep them quiet.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Kevin looked worried.
‘Three choices,’ I answered. ‘One, we take a chance. Two, we get some kind of insurance – lodge a document with a brief or something, you know, to be opened after our deaths.’
‘And three?’
‘Kill Monaghan.’ I sounded tough. I wasn’t.
‘No chance.’
‘No, I guess you’re right. That wasn’t really a serious suggestion anyway.’
‘Insurance. That’s what we’ll do.’
I agreed.
By ten-thirty that morning, we had signed and lodged affidavits with a solicitor. We gave him instructions that they were to be opened after twelve months if either of us failed to make personal contact. Sworn statements, they told the whole story up to that point, everything we knew and a bit of what we suspected. Later on, I planned to mention it to Monaghan in the hope it would keep us safe from disappearing.
I made it home by noon. It was amazing how quiet the cottage seemed now the builders had gone.
The postman had been. Sitting on the step was a small package. After what had happened, I immediately felt my stomach tighten with fear. I edged forward to take a look without touching. Fear gave way to relief as I saw the address was in Jenny’s writing. I picked it up; it was light. By the shape it was a card with something small in a box. If Jenny had thought, she’d have known that the last thing I wanted to get was a package in the post.
I made my way to the kitchen, flicked on the kettle and started to make a brew. As if on cue, the telephone rang. I had just started to open the parcel. I wanted it to be Jenny but it was the scout leader. I’d completely forgotten him. He wanted to know when I’d be around to do the talk to the cubs. I stalled him and made some lame excuses about work. He didn’t buy it. Now this game I was involved in was starting to cost me friends as well. I only hoped that when it was all over I’d be able to pick up the pieces.
After I put the phone down, I pulled open the parcel. Like I always do, I read the card first. Jenny’s message was simple: ‘Thinking of you’.
My hands were shaking as I continued to open the box. I breathed deeply to fight back the tears. Inside was a small teddy bear carrying a placard. It read,
‘I Love you, Dad, for days and nights
You told me all you know
Those patient words to make things right
Have helped for me to grow.’
My knees buckled. Within seconds, the tears started. Good intentions, sent to reassure me that I was in their thoughts, now backfired in a major way. I sat on the floor, imagining Jenny alone at her mother’s home trying to explain to Becky where her father was, trying to be confident that she was going to see me again. I felt as if I was being torn apart. I needed to be with my family but couldn’t, not if I were to keep them safe. Had I got my priorities all wrong? Wasn’t there some other way? A way I could live in peace without having to fight for it? Without having to risk losing everything?
I pictured myself dead, saw my own funeral. I could even picture Jenny’s face. I vowed to myself then. It wasn’t going to happen. After one try at the Arab, that would be it. Monaghan could find someone else. But then what? How the hell could I make a safe life for Jenny and Becky knowing he was out there looking for me? I couldn’t. I knew that.
Hobson’s choic
e.
Chapter 67
Grahamslaw yelled through his open door into the main squad office. ‘My office, something’s on!’
Across the wide, open-plan space, heads turned and conversations across desks paused. But everyone knew who the order was aimed at.
Within moments, Mick Parratt was walking through the door.
‘Surveillance team has been on,’ Grahamslaw said as Parratt closed the door. ‘Finlay met with two others in Regent’s Park. One of them is a PC from Hornchurch, name of Kevin Jones.’
‘Another one who is retired special forces, maybe?’
‘You bet. For Christ’s sake how many of them are there in the job?’
‘About twenty that we know of, and God knows how many that we don’t.’
‘Well, let’s hope they’re not all involved, eh? The man that Finlay and Jones met was heavily disguised. He gave our team the slip when they had to split up to cover all three. Jones went home and then out into the Essex countryside. He visited and looked over a deserted farmhouse and then made a call from a phone box. Right now he’s back at home.’
‘We going to let them run?’
‘I’d bet the Essex farmhouse is a safe house.’ Grahamslaw’s voice betrayed his excitement. ‘They’re gonna snatch someone and then take him there.’
‘The Iranian. Or Costello, perhaps?’
‘One of them.’ Grahamslaw perched on the edge of his desk and indicated that Parratt should sit. ‘What’s the latest on Costello?’
‘Gone to ground. We have a lot of people looking for him but nothing so far.’
‘And we’ve still no idea where the Arab is?’
‘None.’
‘Shit.’ Grahamslaw pushed himself off from his desk and walked to the internal window looking onto the main office. He surveyed his large team as they worked, some on the telephone, others beavering away on computer consoles, all of them in shirt-sleeves or blouses, jackets hanging from the backs of their chairs. ‘I bet he’s their target. That’s why they were studying his picture. They’re going to grab him, find out who stole their files and then…’
‘Kill him … what else could they do? They still think that the missing files story is genuine.’ The disgust was clear in Parratt’s voice. ‘I know I keep harping on, but murder is still a crime, guv, even in the name of national security and even if the cause is noble. I still say we should bring them in.’
‘Accepted, Mick, accepted.’ Grahamslaw turned round and paced the carpet between door and window. ‘No … you’re right. But if they know where the Arab is we can use them. We’ll have the firearms teams on full stand-by from now. When they make the attempt on the Arab, we nick ’em. Coppers or not.’
‘They haven’t sussed the surveillance then?’
‘Not if this meeting in Regent’s Park is anything to go by.’
‘What about the man they met? You said he was heavily disguised.’
‘Like he didn’t want to be recognised.’
‘Or like he knew they were being watched.’
Chapter 68
I telephoned Monaghan later the same day.
As he had suggested, I used a phone box, a different one from that which I had used before. My plan to tell him about the affidavits blew out. As soon as he had given me the information I needed, he hung up. It was going to have to wait.
The Iranian was due to be staying in the St Pancras hotel at Kings Cross. He was using the Selahattin Yildrim identity and a Turkish passport. Of key importance was the fact that there was no surveillance on him yet as the Anti-Terrorist Squad had not yet learned his location. Our instructions were crystal clear. Yildrim was to be captured, taken to the farmhouse and then Monaghan would be out to see us within a day. It all sounded straightforward. Too simple, in fact. The simplicity of it worried me. Operations like this required planning. Contingencies needed to be covered, mishaps allowed for, problems anticipated. We had less than twenty-four hours to kidnap a terrorist, drive him to the remote Essex countryside and then start to interrogate him. And there were only two of us. If the Iranian was armed, and it was likely he would be, he might put up a fight. We couldn’t kill him, as that would defeat the object. We needed a plan.
That evening, over a take-away coffee, Kevin came up with one. A black cab. The front door of the hotel opened up onto a taxi rank. Kevin would act as driver. I would intercept the Arab as he came out the front door, bundle him into the cab and then drive away with him.
‘Just like in the movies,’ I said, and it would have been. In real life it would never have worked.
So we modified the idea. Figuring that Kevin’s plan could only work if the Arab appeared when we were ready, I suggested we went in and persuaded him to come outside. I would pretend to be from MI5. If I bluffed Yildrim into thinking he was surrounded, he should come quietly. Then we’d get him into the taxi. No rough stuff, just a threat in case he should decide that he didn’t want to come. Before we reached the outside, I’d have to find somewhere to search him. The lift would do. Then I’d walk him out to the taxi rank. Inside the cab we’d plasti-cuff his wrists and blindfold him. The more we talked it through, the better I felt. It could just work.
Chapter 69
I was still watching my back. It was driving me crazy, but after what Monaghan had said, I really felt there would be some form of surveillance on me. In Grahamslaw’s shoes, it’s what I would have done.
Driving away from town, I watched the cars behind me and then described them to myself out loud. It was an old technique. Using short-term memory, I might just notice if a car appeared behind me more than once on the journey.
As I approached Potters Bar, I turned down a lane that was a dead end. Parking at the end, I stopped and waited for ten minutes. Nothing appeared. I checked the sky for a helicopter. Again, nothing.
Speeding back down the lane, I headed for the A1. Nothing attempted to keep up with me. As I got onto the A1, I put my foot down and pushed the car to over a hundred. Still, nothing tried to keep up. It looked good. If I was being followed, I didn’t know how.
The light was starting to fade as I reached the cottage. There was no time to waste. I jogged down the garden, into the field and past the old oak tree where my kit lay hidden. The damp grass felt slippery beneath my feet.
In the hedge at the bottom end of the field, I started looking for an observation point. It’s where I would have hidden to keep watch on the cottage. Keeping it as casual as I could, I started checking through the places where a man could lay hidden. I tried to make it look as if I were having a walk, enjoying the late-evening air.
When it came to setting up covert observation, the police had come on leaps and bounds in recent years. Nowadays they employed specialist CROPs officers – trained in Covert Rural Observation Point surveillance and issued with the latest equipment. I knew they would be hard to spot, even though I had a good idea what to look for. If I was lucky, I might hear a cough. But any specialist worth his pay would lie perfectly still as I walked passed. He would keep his breath slow and shallow and trust his camouflage. I knew, I’d done it myself.
Beneath the hawthorn hedges it would still be stiflingly hot. Anyone watching me would need to have taken steps to deflect the anger of disturbed insects. Horse flies were the worst. For some reason, cammo cream seemed to attract them. The little buggers would bite at the worst possible moment. Many a time, I had winced as the fly’s mouthparts stabbed into my flesh and then had to move my hand ever so slowly to squeeze the life out of their tiny bodies. Any sudden movement was strictly a no-no. On observation in open country, movement more than anything was likely to give away your presence.
I wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. Everywhere I looked, the grass was untrampled and the ditches empty. Although the trees and shrubs were full in leaf, which made seeing into and out of the undergrowth difficult; if someone was hiding from me, he was good.
After about twenty minutes, I gave up. There was no sign
of any observation or anywhere that might have been recently in use. I really did expect Grahamslaw to have me followed. The fact that he wasn’t could mean something or nothing. I wondered if he didn’t suspect me, or maybe he did but didn’t want to pursue it. It was possible he was under orders to let me run. Maybe someone higher than Grahamslaw was pulling the strings. All these maybes … and no answers.
I could only guess.
Chapter 70
That night, I didn’t sleep well.
The air was hot and humid, and my thoughts were full of ‘what ifs’, ‘whys’ and more ‘maybes’. I’d made it through the tears. Now I just felt numb. I was having trouble filtering the confused thoughts and emotions that occupied my mind. I knew there had to be more to what was going on than met the eye, but I couldn’t work out what.
I hadn’t called Jenny. If the telephone was bugged, which by now it ought to be, our conversation might hint that something was on for the next day. I didn’t even dare send her a text message. If the shit hit the fan, Special Branch would know where to come looking. Grahamslaw could guess as much as he wanted, but so long as he couldn’t prove it, I was relatively safe. If we got the Arab away quietly, the Anti-Terror Squad wouldn’t even know that anything had happened.
When the alarm wrenched me awake at seven, it was as if I’d only just dropped off. I felt like death. A hot shower warmed life back into my body but, with no appetite, I gave breakfast a miss.
Kevin and I had picked Potters Bar rail station as our meeting point. It was closed while workmen did some repairs. As a result, the car parks were much quieter than normal. We parked at the rear of the station and quickly moved all the equipment into the boot of Kevin’s car. There was a lot of kit. I’d planned, or so I thought, for every eventuality. Hoods, equipment belts, boots and respirators. Two pistols, spare clips and about two hundred rounds. Shoulder holsters and some stun grenades. There was rope, plastic handcuffs and some chloroform. Kevin also had an MP5 with him. Everything we needed was in two bergens to make it easy to carry and in case we were picked up by a CCTV camera somewhere. I hoped we wouldn’t need it.
