Light of the Sun: They always make a mistake and when they do, we kill them...

by David Costa

  Reece did not like to worry her, so he lied.

  ‘No not much, just the odd stab.’

  He didn’t want to say that the pieces of shrapnel that remained in his body hurt like hell much more than usual. The pain killers that used to give him relief did not seem to hit the spot anymore. He knew he would need to see the surgeon again to confirm that the metal inside him had moved.

  Lying close to her, he remembered that first time when he saw her in Newry, then followed her from a suspected IRA meeting house to a meeting with the head of the Provisional IRA Intelligence in the Europa Hotel in Belfast. She had become a person of interest. He made it his purpose to get to know her, the unhappy marriage she was in, and when he had pitched his plan to recruit her as a source within the republican movement, he discovered that gunmen and killers like Sean Costello disgusted her. During the months of danger and covert meetings he had fallen in love with her but couldn’t tell her until after the Peace Process and The Good Friday Agreement. That was when she’d once more searched him out, with the news that there was going to be the attempt to assassinate the British Prime Minister on the streets of Manchester.

  ‘Have you any other injuries you don’t want to talk about?’

  ‘I fell out of a tree once when I was a boy, knocked myself out and broke my wrist.’

  ‘What were you doing up a tree?’

  ‘What does any boy do up a tree. Climb it then pretend you’re a mountain climber or hiding from the searchers.’

  ‘Which were you?’

  ‘Hiding.’

  ‘Not very well, you fell out of the tree.’

  ‘Actually, I was jumping down the last bit, but underestimated the distance to the ground.’

  ‘That will do it.’

  ‘Every time.’ Reece smiled.

  ‘I’m sorry but I have to go again,’ he said.

  ‘Will you be back tonight?’

  ‘I hope so, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘Eating on my own again?’

  As he pulled on his trousers, Reece lifted one of the hotel brochures from the coffee table.

  ‘It says here the hotel has an award-winning Brasserie. I for one want to test the veracity of that statement. If I’m not back by eight, start without me.’

  ‘That’s no fun at all, try to make sure you join me.’ She smiled.

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Is it dangerous Joseph?’ she asked, using the undercover code name he had used when she’d been his agent.

  He did not want to pass her off with a glib answer, but at the same time he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.

  ‘I’ll be truthful as I am allowed because I know you will see through me if I don’t. There is a serious threat of a terrorist attack here in London. We are pulling in every resource we have, not just me and my team, but everything. I’m going to a full briefing at five and I’ll know more. Other than that, I want you to try to enjoy yourself tonight and I’ll make every effort to join you for dinner.’

  She had stood to pull her clothes back on. She shook her head to let her hair fall once more down her shoulders. He felt it would be so easy to stay here with her. To phone his boss and say he was resigning, take her to the airport, catch the next plane back to Malta, and live the rest of their lives making love and walking hand in hand along the beach.

  But that was for the Mills and Boon romantic fiction books. This was real life. His job was, and always had been, to save lives and make that dream a reality for others, not just him and Mary.

  ‘Joseph. I’ve been thinking I need to go see my mother. If you don’t need me here, I should go.’

  This caught Reece off guard. He had been too tied up in his own world and he forgot about Mary’s. She knew that was his life, his work needed his total concentration. Everything else had to wait until the job was done.

  ‘No, I can honestly say on this occasion you can relax. I think we have enough to cover everything. You know I would love you to be here, but to tell you the truth if you were not, I’d be happier, because of the risk to anyone not involved. You know that sometimes I can’t tell you anything but are you sure you want to go to Belfast after what happened in Manchester?’

  Mary had been deeply involved in helping to track down the rogue IRA man Costello and had been there when Reece had shot and killed him. To what extent her name had been blown to the Republican movement in Northern Ireland was not yet known.

  ‘My mother now lives in my old house on the Lisburn Road; a relatively safe area for me. She is getting old, and I’ve not seen her in a while. You don’t need me here. I’ll be careful and phone you every night. I’ll only stay for two days, three at most.’

  ‘If you’re sure you will be safe. I can let a friend in the PSNI know you will be there and to keep an eye on you.’

  Mary knew Reece still had friends in the Police Service for Northern Ireland who he had worked with in the now disbanded RUC, people he could trust.

  ‘I’ll be all right on my own. You’re not the only one who still has friends in Belfast.’

  ‘I know but I would feel better if you had someone there who would get to you quicker than I could if you need help. His name is Tom Wilson, I’ll give you his private number before you go, which is when?’

  ‘I was thinking the sooner the better. Tomorrow morning if that’s OK for you.’

  ‘If you need to go, then go. I think this job will be over in the next few days so maybe I can join you in Belfast. It would be nice to see the city as a visitor instead of a job. I’m glad you’re waiting until tomorrow to go. If I can’t join you for dinner at least we might be able to lie in bed together tonight followed by breakfast, it seems an awful long time since we did that.’

  Reece pulled on his Barbour jacket and put the Smith and Wesson 59 in the holster. Mary knew it was the signal that he had to go and quickly jumped off the bed and putting her arms around his neck kissed him long and hard. Reece felt the warmth of her body and could smell the perfume she always wore. Kissing her back he put his arms under hers and pulled her in to him as closely as he could.

  Standing back Reece kissed her on the forehead and turned for the door.

  ‘I’ll try to get back for dinner, if not, definitely for later, either way I’ll call you.’

  ‘I’m counting on it.’

  On the drive back to MI6 Reece thought deeply about the future and especially the one he wanted to have with Mary. He knew he needed to get away from work and spend some time alone with the woman he loved and to really discuss their future together.

  The MI6 conference room at Vauxhall Cross was set up as a theatre, with two rows of chairs facing a lectern and a large screen on the wall. One of the control room operators was sitting at a computer linking images to the screen as they were needed. Sitting on the front row of chairs were Jim Broad, Caroline Aspinall, Helen Francis, and Sir Martin Bryant, representing the Prime Minister and Chair of the JIC. Reece knew that Bryant would be reporting through the Prime Minister to the Home Secretary nominally the overall political boss of MI5 and the British government’s Foreign Secretary nominally the political boss of MI6. Matthew Simons stood at the lectern and Reece sat in the second row between Anna, and Geoff Middleton. Reece could see others he knew including Joe Cousins and Steve Harrison before Matthew Simons interrupted any more hellos and introductions.

  ‘Good afternoon everyone I’m Matthew Simons the MI6 Officer in Charge of our Middle East desk. I intend to brief everyone with what we have so far. Some of you may have more information to add, if you could wait until I finish to ask any questions or contribute to the briefing that would be helpful. Before I start, I would like to introduce Dr Ian McLeod. Dr McLeod is one of our senior biological and nuclear scientists at Porton Down, our scientific research department.’

  A slightly balding man, wearing a three-piece suit with the chain of a pocket watch showing, who had been sitting on the front row beside Bryant stood and walked to the lectern. Facing the ro
om, he put on half-moon spectacles and reading from his notes, looked over them when he addressed the room. The accent was Scottish, his back was slightly bent. He reminded Reece of his old headmaster at his secondary school.

  ‘Good afternoon. Prior to coming here, I’ve been to Downing Street to brief the Prime Minister and Sir Martin Bryant on an update we received from the Israeli Government and Mossad. The original intelligence received indicated the terrorists had brought in plutonium for a dirty bomb. Such a device is not viable, as it would be almost impossible to assemble and transport without severe radiation damage and death to the perpetrators. Therefore, the material needs to be transportable with enough shielding to protect the carrier, but not so much that it would be too heavy to transport. The update we’ve had now indicates that these people have transported plutonium-238 which has been produced illegally in Iran. More easily transportable, and what is more can be used to make a dirty bomb. What is a dirty bomb you may ask? Put simply, on detonation, the explosives combine with the plutonium-238. The radioactive material is vaporised (or aerosolise) and is propelled into the air. This is completely different to a nuclear detonation. Plutonium-238 is not particularly dangerous as a radiation source on its own, but, when used with explosives it becomes what we call alpha particles in the air, which if ingested or breathed in as dust is very dangerous and carcinogenic. It has been estimated that 454 grams or one pound of plutonium inhaled as plutonium oxide dust, could give cancer to two million people. However, ingested plutonium is less dangerous as only a tiny fraction is absorbed in the gastrointestinal tract, 800 mg would be unlikely to cause a major health risk as far as radiation is concerned. So basically, what we believe these people have, is not nuclear, but more of a device based on terrorising the masses and damaging us economically. Nevertheless, hundreds could still die and the damage to not only this country, but to any country that values freedom and democracy would be devastating. Sorry about the political speech there, but I think you understand what is at stake. If you have any questions?’

  The SAS Captain raised his hand.

  ‘So, what you’re saying is we believe these people have a small amount of this plutonium-238 and if it’s used with an explosive device, apart from the initial blast, the main danger is what people breath in. Do we need to wear any special equipment if we are close to such a blast?’

  Looking over his glasses at Geoff Middleton, McLeod spoke to everyone in the room.

  ‘If you’re not injured in the blast, get yourself and everyone to a safe distance which would be outside half mile perimeter from the blast. We have people on standby here in London with the right sort of clothing and equipment to go in and spray down the area. Unfortunately, such a spray down will take some time before we can give an all clear and depending on the size and where the blast takes place that could take months.’

  With no more questions Doctor McLeod sat down, and Simons stood at the lectern once more.

  Holding the red dot pointer in his hand he pointed to the screen and pressed a button at the side of the device. The screen was filled with a collage of photos showing the clear faces of the Arab, a woman, and an unknown man.

  ‘You should already have these photos and a small page of intelligence showing their connection to each other and where the photos were taken.’

  Everyone opened the folders that were sitting on the chairs before they sat down.

  ‘I don’t have to tell you that this operation, now known as Operation Search, is for the time being top secret. Between our own intelligence and Mossad, we are sure that these three people, possibly more, are now in this country, most likely London to carry out a terrorist attack involving a dirty bomb. We already have people out on the ground looking for them and I’ll ask that MI5 and the Met update us on anything they have to add.’

  Simons continued with his briefing for another twenty minutes, bringing everyone up to date with what he had so far, from the initial intelligence after the Barcelona suicide bomb, to the operation in Malta and finally to London.

  Having finished for now Simons stood to one side and Caroline Aspinall stood at the lectern.

  Speaking in her intellectual clipped accent she took the screen pointer from Simons.

  ‘Thank you, Matthew. This operation may be moving fast but we are catching up. MI5 now has some more information which may be of help. We have a CI inside the Finsbury Mosque. His duties are to allow access to people coming through the main front door. Yesterday afternoon a young man wearing the Arab shemagh arrived at the Mosque. The interesting thing was that when this man arrived and left, he had the headdress fully pulled up to protect his face from identification. Like most people who attend the Mosque, they know that we try to take photos of everyone who goes in and out of the building. The confidential informant described the young man as being of Middle Eastern appearance but speaking with a London accent. He asked for Mohammed AAyan telling the CI he was expected. AAyan is the Imam at the Finsbury Mosque, and we have a thick file on him at Thames House. The CI reported that both men held a meeting for about fifteen minutes in a room which is used for special meetings and swept for bugs regularly, so we do not have the conversation. I can confirm that photos were taken of the man entering and leaving. We have them in colour as you can see but not of much use.’

  Again, she pressed the button, and the screen was filled by the man leaving the Mosque. Reece thought that with the way the photo was taken with the Mosque behind, and the man’s face covered by the shemagh he could be looking at a photo taken in any of the Middle East capitals. Aspinall continued.

  ‘We have done follow-up checks on the woman who landed in London and took a taxi from the airport. Using the airport and traffic CCTV and APNR coverage, we were able to track down the driver and the cab and follow his journey. He picked up the woman and dropped her off at the bottom of Edgware Road. The anti-terrorist people spoke to the driver. He confirmed the journey. He does not know the woman and could only say she spoke English with an accent, only speaking to give him the location where she wanted dropped off, no specific address. He said she was young no older than thirty using a silver walking stick and dressed as a European. Unfortunately, the cameras didn’t cover the drop-off or where she went afterwards. That’s as far as we have her.’

  ‘Why did the cameras lose her?’ asked Martin Bryant.

  Aspinall looked to where the question had come from.

  ‘The drop-off and her movement from the car were in what we call a dark zone for our cameras. I do not know if she was aware of this but either way, we lost her. The good thing is we have a small area where we need to pay particular attention to.’

  This seemed to satisfy Bryant. No more follow-up coming.

  ‘If I could continue. We have some news on the other two men which I have only just received. One of our surveillance teams covering the Iranian Embassy were just taking up their positions when they spotted a man, fitting the description of the one we call the Arab, leaving the building. The team tried to follow him, but he was surveillance aware and made several attempts to lose the watchers. He knew where he was going, using the nearby Underground at High Street Kensington where he jumped on a Circle Line train before we could get to him. We put the word out for all the stations on the line to be covered before our teams could get in place, but we think he got off at the very first station on his route at Notting Hill Gate. We are looking at the station CCTV to confirm this, but we are fairly sure that is what he did.’

  ‘You lost another of our targets?’ again the voice of Bryant broke through the room this time a little higher pitched.

  This time Aspinall looked straight back at Bryant. Her expression was that of a schoolteacher having to deal with a naughty schoolboy.

  ‘Surveillance is never going to be perfect in a city the size of London. With millions of people getting in the way, and an Underground system which can move a suspect to numerous locations throughout the city. It is even tougher if the person you’re followin
g is surveillance aware as our friends will be. On this occasion our teams were just beginning to get into their positions after having received the basic information. The fact that they spotted this target, and at least have confirmed his awareness, and that we can confirm him in London, is a start, considering the circumstances I’ve mentioned. One of the stops on the Circle Line is Edgware Road, another pointer to that area so we should put extra resources into there. This meeting is to pull everything together that we have so far. The picture is starting to clear, we have two of our targets possibly working in the Edgware Road area of the city. The next time they’re spotted we will have the resources on the ground and the camera coverage in support.’

  With that Aspinall retook her seat and handed the pointer back to Simons who stood once more at the lectern.

  ‘As you will know we will be running the operation from our control room here. All communications will be linked to our people running the boards. You should all know that this operation will be followed closely by number ten, but the final say on how it will progress will be with the MI6 Director, Jim Broad, who you all know. Mister Broad would you like to say anything?’

  Jim Broad stood and turning to face the room and those seated behind him. He looked at Reece before speaking.

  ‘Really it does not matter who runs this operation, because we all have the responsibility to work together if we are to succeed in our mission. Find these people, find them quickly because we do not have much time. In fact, we do not know how much time we really have. The operation will be running twenty-four hours a day so organise your plans to that schedule and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. We will also be working closely with our friends in Mossad. Anna here, being their contact and another of their team Palo, who will be with our tech people in the control room. It is hoped that Mossad using their own people will be able to add to the information we already have. Now I believe the head of the Met anti-terrorist unit wants to say something.’

  Helen Francis stood beside Broad and faced the room she looked into the eyes of Sir Martin Bryant. She wanted to make sure he understood the people in this room were united in their work, and that the message for number ten would recognise that unity.